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to me.”
    “I’ve never been able to converse with spirits before. But
others might know your name. The psychic should know how to attract them and
ask if they know you.”
    She shuddered. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that. It
sounds…frightful.”
    Christian laughed. “Surely you can’t be frightened of other
spirits.”
    The ghostly girl frowned and her lips puckered with
concentration. “I have a vague memory of this. Ghosts were always seen as evil
spirits, and do not move on. They linger because of their tormented soul over
whatever horror happened to them, or what they did.” Her expression shifted,
and this time she looked distraught. “What if I—?”
    “Nonsense!”
    “Then what if this…?” The corners of her pale mouth angled
down, and he understood she might be unfamiliar enough with the term to repeat
it, or had simply forgotten it.
    “Psychic,” Christian supplied.
    “Yes, what if this psychic attracts bad spirits?”
    He didn’t know what to say to that, and had to admit that he
didn’t want to consider the possibility. He’d never really believed in psychics
before, had gone to the on-stage séances and knew those were simply trickery, a
sort of magic show. And he’d heard that some considered these in-home séances
to be similar. False and foolish folly, but she was proof ghosts did exist, and
perhaps she and Jackson were right, that he should be careful about such
things. “But how else can we discover your name?”
    “I know not,” she answered after a short pause.
    “I believe most psychics are frauds anyway and I don’t see
how that could really cause any harm.”
    “Then how could one help me?”
    With an exhale that blew the hair from his forehead,
Christian frowned. “Please, humor me?”
    After another, longer hesitation while she studied his
expression, she said softly, “If you wish.”
     
    Christian didn’t wait for either her or Jackson to further
protest this. He sent a missive to a psychic, the cheapest one he could find,
with an invitation to arrive that evening. She’d requested he set-up a round
table in the sitting room with candles.
    After making a final adjustment to the cloth covering the
quaint table surrounded by four chairs, Christian lit the candles, and then
opened the door for the psychic when she rang.
    “Hello, my name is Luna,” said the woman with a black,
feather-adorned hat on her head, and purple gloves covering her arms from the
tip of fingers to her elbows.
    A stage name. Great, this just might be a waste of time and
money after all , Christian thought.
    “This way, Luna,” he said, trying to hide the doubt in his
tone.
    When he sat at the table with Luna and Jackson, the psychic
asked in an airy voice, which again made him wonder if he’d invited an actress
to his home, “You did not invite all of your friends to this event?”
    “I wanted something more private.”
    “Very well,” she said, stroking a skinny, gloved finger over
the moon-shaped pendant hanging from a chain around her neck, “but the fee is
still the same.”
    For her offering of parlor tricks, he was sure. “Yes, yes,
let’s begin,” he said, almost shortly.
    Luna ordered them to set their hands on the table.
    His gaze slid to his ghost in the chair next to him. She was
very quiet, as was Jackson, and he sensed that neither one of them were very
pleased.
    The psychic noticed his look at the seeming empty seat and
studied him and the chair curiously. Christian offered a grin, hoping to
distract the woman.
    Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Christian wanted to
smirk at how the approaching storm added to the spooky atmosphere in the room.
    “We shall begin,” Luna said ominously, fluttering her
fingers over the candle in front of her. The movement caused the many bangles
around her wrist to tinkle noisily. The black feathers protruding from her hat
bobbed.
    Christian smothered a laugh, and tried to hide the sound
with a cough.
    He got a dirty look for