[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
. I never read them.It didn t seem rightsomehow, to pry into her private thoughts.But I feel now that maybe she waswriting them for you.Somehow she knew you would need her guidance. Oliver nodded.He didn t actually agree, didn t think his grandmother hadthought much about him one way or the other.He d rarely seen her.But if itcomforted his mother to think that, then so be it. Might I go up and fetch them? She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. May they bring you a senseof commonality my poor mother never experienced.She seemed so solitary andalone in this world. What about Great-uncle Paul? Did they never talk together about theirexperiences? Not to my knowledge.He was& very odd.The less said about him, thebetter. With that cryptic response, she rose and led the way upstairs.She leftwww.samhainpublishing.com 75 Bonnie Dee and Summer DevonOliver to mount the narrower steps to the small space under the eaves wherekeepsakes from their old house were stored.It wasn t a full attic, and he had tonearly crawl to the chest she d described.Inside was a stack of small books bound in cloth and leather.He opened oneand beheld his grandmother s spidery, old-fashioned writing He d never beenmuch interested in learning about his crazy forebears, but now a fillip ofexcitement twisted inside him.What might he learn from these yellowed pages?What if he could develop his ability and become a medium in truth and not afraud? Surely the fruits of his labor would be even more lucrative.And of course, he d be helping people.Oliver made his crooked way back out of the crawlspace, carrying anawkward armful of the books.He did not wish to linger and visit with hismother now, so he thanked her for the journals, bid her good-bye and hurriedback to his rooms with the booty.For the next three hours, he was engrossed in Grandmother Silver s mind.He skimmed passages about the minutia of running the house, hiring servants,paying bills, buying hats, visiting her few friends, and zeroed in on the bits abouther psychic experiences. Visited Mrs.Cawley today and one of my spells overcame me.I saw in her drawingroom the spirit of a woman who had ended her life there perhaps generations before.Iexperienced the spirit s pain, relived for countless years, the broken heart that led her todrink poison, her distress and her desire to take back what she had done.I have becomequite adept at hiding the results of my affliction but this time I found myself muttering, Too late.Too late, much to my mortification. I went into a faint and had to be revived with smelling salts.It was a shamefuldisplay, and I m quite certain Mrs.Cawley will never be in to receive my call again. 76 www.samhainpublishing.com The Psychic and the SleuthThe more Oliver read, the more he realized that over the span of sixty years,his grandmother had grown no more able to control her spells than he could.She couldn t summon the spirits at will nor dispel them when they visited her.They came at odd times in unexpected places and made her life a misery.Itconfirmed what he d suspected that being near a person or place that had beenpart of the death experience was what triggered the spell.Damned Robert Courthad been with his cousin.Oliver could hear the word echoing in his own headthe memory of a memory.Robert, Robert.He slammed closed the third book, one representing an early part of her life,and sat back in his chair.Perhaps this was a door he did not want to openfurther.Not even to help Robert Court.The idea of being a real psychic no longerseemed appealing.Inventing stories and false messages was much better thansuffering long-dead pain and coming away with a headache.Oliver noticed the afternoon light was waning and checked his timepiece.Itwas far later than he d expected, and he had an appointment across town thisevening.Lady Markham s good friend Mrs.Veda Stull was having a smallmeeting at her house tonight.Oliver was the guest of honor, invited to explainSpiritualism to the uninitiated among the guests and then to give a display of hispowers.It was the last thing he wanted to do tonight.He d had enough ofotherworldly nonsense, both real and imaginary.He d like nothing better than toforget it all, go to a pub and drink himself under the table with a cheerful crowdof strangers.No.What he d like even more would be another bout with RobertCourt.No talking about Lily and murder, only fierce, grunting, thrusting, violentsex between two willing men.But that wasn t likely to happen.www.samhainpublishing.com 77 Bonnie Dee and Summer DevonOliver put the journals aside and went to prepare for the evening.Hebrushed his second-best suit with all his new engagements, it was time for atrip to the tailor and put on a fresh shirt, collar and tie.He put on his coat and hat and walked around the corner to the pie shop,eating the greasy mutton pie carefully so he wouldn t spot his shirt.Then hestarted toward Veda Stull s house [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl centka.pev.pl
. I never read them.It didn t seem rightsomehow, to pry into her private thoughts.But I feel now that maybe she waswriting them for you.Somehow she knew you would need her guidance. Oliver nodded.He didn t actually agree, didn t think his grandmother hadthought much about him one way or the other.He d rarely seen her.But if itcomforted his mother to think that, then so be it. Might I go up and fetch them? She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. May they bring you a senseof commonality my poor mother never experienced.She seemed so solitary andalone in this world. What about Great-uncle Paul? Did they never talk together about theirexperiences? Not to my knowledge.He was& very odd.The less said about him, thebetter. With that cryptic response, she rose and led the way upstairs.She leftwww.samhainpublishing.com 75 Bonnie Dee and Summer DevonOliver to mount the narrower steps to the small space under the eaves wherekeepsakes from their old house were stored.It wasn t a full attic, and he had tonearly crawl to the chest she d described.Inside was a stack of small books bound in cloth and leather.He opened oneand beheld his grandmother s spidery, old-fashioned writing He d never beenmuch interested in learning about his crazy forebears, but now a fillip ofexcitement twisted inside him.What might he learn from these yellowed pages?What if he could develop his ability and become a medium in truth and not afraud? Surely the fruits of his labor would be even more lucrative.And of course, he d be helping people.Oliver made his crooked way back out of the crawlspace, carrying anawkward armful of the books.He did not wish to linger and visit with hismother now, so he thanked her for the journals, bid her good-bye and hurriedback to his rooms with the booty.For the next three hours, he was engrossed in Grandmother Silver s mind.He skimmed passages about the minutia of running the house, hiring servants,paying bills, buying hats, visiting her few friends, and zeroed in on the bits abouther psychic experiences. Visited Mrs.Cawley today and one of my spells overcame me.I saw in her drawingroom the spirit of a woman who had ended her life there perhaps generations before.Iexperienced the spirit s pain, relived for countless years, the broken heart that led her todrink poison, her distress and her desire to take back what she had done.I have becomequite adept at hiding the results of my affliction but this time I found myself muttering, Too late.Too late, much to my mortification. I went into a faint and had to be revived with smelling salts.It was a shamefuldisplay, and I m quite certain Mrs.Cawley will never be in to receive my call again. 76 www.samhainpublishing.com The Psychic and the SleuthThe more Oliver read, the more he realized that over the span of sixty years,his grandmother had grown no more able to control her spells than he could.She couldn t summon the spirits at will nor dispel them when they visited her.They came at odd times in unexpected places and made her life a misery.Itconfirmed what he d suspected that being near a person or place that had beenpart of the death experience was what triggered the spell.Damned Robert Courthad been with his cousin.Oliver could hear the word echoing in his own headthe memory of a memory.Robert, Robert.He slammed closed the third book, one representing an early part of her life,and sat back in his chair.Perhaps this was a door he did not want to openfurther.Not even to help Robert Court.The idea of being a real psychic no longerseemed appealing.Inventing stories and false messages was much better thansuffering long-dead pain and coming away with a headache.Oliver noticed the afternoon light was waning and checked his timepiece.Itwas far later than he d expected, and he had an appointment across town thisevening.Lady Markham s good friend Mrs.Veda Stull was having a smallmeeting at her house tonight.Oliver was the guest of honor, invited to explainSpiritualism to the uninitiated among the guests and then to give a display of hispowers.It was the last thing he wanted to do tonight.He d had enough ofotherworldly nonsense, both real and imaginary.He d like nothing better than toforget it all, go to a pub and drink himself under the table with a cheerful crowdof strangers.No.What he d like even more would be another bout with RobertCourt.No talking about Lily and murder, only fierce, grunting, thrusting, violentsex between two willing men.But that wasn t likely to happen.www.samhainpublishing.com 77 Bonnie Dee and Summer DevonOliver put the journals aside and went to prepare for the evening.Hebrushed his second-best suit with all his new engagements, it was time for atrip to the tailor and put on a fresh shirt, collar and tie.He put on his coat and hat and walked around the corner to the pie shop,eating the greasy mutton pie carefully so he wouldn t spot his shirt.Then hestarted toward Veda Stull s house [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]