Victoria Thompson: Murder On Waverly Place

“No, please! I have to know! What is she saying?”

“Something…” Yellow Feather sounded as if he were struggling. “Something she gave you.”

“What? What is it? She gave me so many things!”

“Something special…” Yellow Feather paused. “What? I can hardly hear her.”

“Please, what is it?” Mrs. Burke nearly sobbed.

“Something… valuable.”

“The brooch?” she asked in surprise. “Not the diamond brooch!”

“I don’t know… Wait, yes… Yes, she says it’s all right,” Yellow Feather reported, slightly puzzled. “Do you know what she means?”

“But it’s been in the family forever!” Mrs. Burke protested.

Yellow Feather moaned. “She’s fading.”

“Are you sure it’s the brooch?” Mrs. Burke pressed frantically. “And she said it’s all right?”

“Yes, it’s all right,” Yellow Feather confirmed faintly.

Mrs. Burke made a sound that could have been a sob.

“I’m tired, so tired… but someone else is here, a spirit I’ve never seen before.” More moaning. “Pain,” Yellow Feather said. “Someone in pain. A child.”

“Abigail?” Mrs. Gittings called out desperately.

“A baby,” Yellow Feather said, his voice thick. “A tiny baby, just born.”

Mrs. Decker gasped.

“Mother, don’t,” Sarah said before she could think.

“A tiny baby,” Yellow feather said, his voice stronger now, as if to overpower Sarah’s protest.

“It’s Maggie’s baby!” Mrs. Decker cried.

“Too small to speak, but pain, I feel so much pain.”

“Is Maggie there?” Mrs. Decker called. “Maggie, can you hear me?”

Fury boiled up in Sarah’s chest. It wasn’t Maggie, it couldn’t be!

Yellow Feather moaned. “Someone is here, but she will not speak. She is too angry.”

“Maggie, I’m sorry!” Mrs. Decker cried. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know!”

Sarah opened her mouth, ready to stop this farce, but a new sound shocked her, and the words died in her throat. At first she didn’t know what it was or where it was coming from. It began like a screech from a poorly played violin and then broke into a more familiar sound, a sound Sarah heard so often that she couldn’t mistake it, but she still couldn’t believe it. A baby’s cry. A newborn baby’s cry!

“My God,” Mr. Sharpe said beside her.

No! Sarah wanted to scream, but she could form no words. Her throat seemed paralyzed. Tears flooded her eyes. This was too cruel! Too horrible to bear!

Someone was sobbing. “Maggie!” the sobbing voice choked.

“Stop it!” Sarah said and tried to break free, but Mrs. Gittings’s fingers tightened on her wrist, refusing to let go, and when Sarah released Mr. Sharpe’s wrist, he grabbed hers in a bruising grip.

The baby’s cry stopped abruptly.

“She is too angry,” Yellow Feather’s deep voice proclaimed solemnly. “She can’t forgive you.”

“Sarah,” her mother’s voice pleaded. “She’ll talk to you!”

“No!” Sarah felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. She wouldn’t let herself be drawn into this nightmare.

“Please,” her mother begged. “She’ll talk to you. Tell her, Sarah. Tell her I’m sorry!”

“Sarah doesn’t believe,” Yellow Feather said sadly.

“Yes, she does!” Mrs. Decker insisted wildly. Sarah could hardly believe it was her mother’s voice. “Sarah, tell him! Tell him you believe! Talk to Maggie for me. Tell her!”

Mrs. Gittings shook Sarah’s arm. “Tell her!” she commanded.

“For God’s sake, tell her!” Cunningham’s voice begged.

Sarah’s mouth was so dry, she could hardly force her tongue to work. “Mag… Maggie?” she tried, hating herself, hating all of them.

Yellow Feather moaned.

“Maggie, they…”

Yellow Feather moaned more loudly, as if his heart were bursting in his chest.

Sarah tried to swallow and then forced the words past her reluctant lips. “They didn’t mean to hurt you!”

Yellow Feather’s voice exploded in a piercing shriek that froze Sarah’s blood in her veins and then someone else screamed.

“Madame Serafina!” Mrs. Burke cried. “She’s fainted!”

MRS. GITTINGS AND MR. SHARPE RELEASED SARAH’S wrists, and she jumped to her feet, not really certain what to do next but knowing that she must do something. Someone had managed to find the door in the dark and opened it, letting in enough light to see that Madame Serafina had slid out of her chair and fallen to the floor in a heap. Sarah’s mother seemed to be fine. She was still in her chair, staring down at Madame Serafina in alarm.

“Professor!” Mrs. Gittings was calling out into the hall. She was the one who had found the door. “Madame fainted!”

The man ran into the room. “Don’t touch her!” he commanded. “Is there any ectoplasm?”

“No,” someone said.

“We didn’t see any,” someone else confirmed.

He knelt down on one knee, pulled the stopper from the small bottle he carried, and passed it under Madame’s nose. Sarah could smell it from here. Smelling salts. Madame stirred, instinctively recoiling from the harsh odor.

“Madame, are you all right?” he asked.

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing those magnificent eyes. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Mrs. Burke said, wringing her hands nervously.

“ She did it,” Cunningham said angrily, pointing at Sarah. “It’s all her fault. She doesn’t believe!”

Sarah resisted the absurd impulse to apologize. She’d done nothing wrong.

“You were the one who told Yellow Feather not to mind her,” Mrs. Gittings reminded him fiercely. “Madame, are you all right?”

The Professor was helping her sit up. She looked dazed, her eyes not really focusing. “I think so.” She looked at Cunningham with concern. “Was it your father?”

“No! He didn’t even speak to me,” Cunningham reported indignantly. “It’s all her fault.” He glared at Sarah again.

“Can you try again?” Mrs. Decker asked to Sarah’s surprise. “My daughter… I need to speak to her.”

Madame Serafina looked at Mrs. Decker, studying her face as if trying to look into her soul. “Did Yellow Feather contact her?”

“Yes, she was there,” Mrs. Decker said with a certainty that pricked Sarah’s heart. “Don’t you remember?”

Madame smiled sadly. “I never remember anything that happens when Yellow Feather is speaking through me. But perhaps I can summon him again.” She took the Professor’s arm and let him help her to her feet, but as soon as he released her, she swayed dangerously.

He caught her and lowered her into the chair she’d occupied previously. “She can’t possibly do another session now,” he said. “It would be far too dangerous. Can’t you see how weak she is?”

She did look weak, which was just fine with Sarah. She had to get her mother out of there.

“I’m very sorry if I caused any trouble,” Sarah said just the way she had been taught to as a child-say you’re sorry even if you don’t mean it.

Madame looked up at her in surprise, her dark eyes unreadable. “You still don’t believe?” she asked in amazement.

Sarah didn’t want to lie, and she didn’t think she needed to. Madame seemed to already know the answer. “Mother, we should go so Madame Serafina can rest.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” her mother said, suddenly remembering her manners. She rose from her chair, and Sarah was alarmed to see that she also looked a bit unsteady. Mr. Sharpe solicitously took her arm, but she didn’t even notice. She was looking at Madame Serafina. “Thank you so much. I’m very grateful.”