Read To Touch a Thief (An Everly Gray Novella) for Free Online Page B

séance over to me.  
    When had the room become so warm? I rested my hands on the table, fingers interlaced. With all the skepticism about séances, I didn’t want anyone to wonder what my hands might be doing under the table.  
    I asked Mitch to dim the lights, and the room relaxed in the peaceful, cozy glow.
    “Good evening. As we progress through the séance, I’ll stand behind each of you in turn and place my hand on your shoulder. My touch indicates that I’m working with your friend or relative who has passed beyond the veil.”  
    I stood and circled the room. “As we begin, allow your eyes to close. You’ll want to keep them closed throughout the séance, because it will help you to focus inward on your memories, rather than on my movements as I select participants.”  
    “Deep, even breathing will help to welcome the spirits surrounding us. Bring your attention to your inhalations and exhalations, the air moving through your lungs. When you’re comfortable, hold an image in your mind of the loved one you’d like to contact this evening.”
    An agitated feminine voice cut into the quiet. “We’ll all get a chance won’t we? You won’t leave anyone out?”  
    “Everyone will have an opportunity.” I paced my answer to re-set a calm atmosphere. “Some spirits are easier to communicate with than others, and we must respect their limitations.”  
    Mitch grunted softly in the background, and I had to swallow a laugh. He was obviously focused on my limitations, not those of the dearly departed.  
    I selected my first participant, an elderly gentleman who radiated deep loneliness, and rested my hand on his shoulder. Images flowed onto my internal monitor. A big, empty house, a classic photograph of an elegant bride done in black and white, and a family portrait that included a daughter. The next image flashed in front of me, a warning clearly attached. The daughter was gazing at one of North Carolina’s more ruthless politicians—a besotted smile on her lips.
    “Is it your wife you’d like to contact?” I asked.  
    He shivered under my fingertips, and the faint scent of mothballs tickled my nose. “Yes, miss.”
    “She is at peace, is waiting patiently for you to join her. She’s concerned, though, about your relationship with your daughter.” His shoulder muscles tensed, and a wave of discomfort tugged on me. I shrugged it off. There was no turning back now. “Your wife says that you must not let her sway your convictions. That you must remain strong in your beliefs and true to your heart.”  
    A tear trickled down his cheek.
    “Thank you, miss.” He brushed at his face with trembling fingers. “She’s a difficult one, our Callie.”  
    I patted his shoulder and moved to the other side of the table to select the next participant.
    Two long hours and one headache later, there were only a few people left for me to read. Unlike the other participants who had followed my instructions and kept their eyes closed, Parker’s gaze had followed Jayne as she wandered around the room, keeping watch over the participants. When I placed my hand on his shoulder, he growled, low in his throat.  
    I bent to his ear. “You, thinking about Jayne, is clouding the whole room with hormonal vibes. Focus on memories of your grandfather. Now.”  
    His eyelids fluttered closed.  
    I spoke up, hoping a pointed question would clear his mind of the X-rated images. “What was your grandfather’s name, Parker?”  
    “Thomas Steele.”  
    Cloudy pictures of an elderly gentleman with Parker’s gray eyes replaced the semi-nude images of Jayne. I breathed easier. There had been way too much Jayne in my life lately.  
    It was sometime during the reading of Thomas Steele that my neck started to prickle.  
    I tried to scrub the sensation away, but it worked its way under my skin until I couldn’t ignore it.  

 
    EIGHT
     
    Everly Gray
     
    I finished the reading on Thomas and bent to Parker’s ear