Kelley Armstrong - No Humans Involved

Cold reading uses statistical probability to make random guesses about a person or an audience. For example, if I say I see the spirit of a man, someone you've lost, it's a given that you've lost a male friend or relative in your lifetime. If I say his name started with J-first name, but maybe a middle or nickname-there's a good chance you can find a dead male relative with that common initial. Then I'll throw out "details" supplied by your dead relative, talking fast, shaping my responses by reading your reaction, and soon you'll be convinced I am indeed speaking to your dearly departed second cousin Joey… who, by the way, misses you, but is happy and in a good place.

Then there's warm reading, which uses prior knowledge. Maybe you chatted to one of my staff on the way into the show-they're so helpful and friendly. Maybe they overheard you telling your companion about the person you wanted me to contact. Or maybe you wrote it on that questionnaire you sent in, the one that was supposed to be anonymous. However it happened, I know that you, in seat D45, are praying that your second cousin Joey comes by with a message. Well, he has, and he misses you, but he's happy and in a good place.

When summoning a specific spirit, though, like Tansy Lane, you can't use statistical probability, so the tool Angelique needed was knowledge-memories of what she'd heard about the case. Which posed a problem, considering she'd been born after Tansy died. If she'd gotten the spot after me, she could have built on my "revelations." Without that, she was in trouble.

"Tansy? Is that you?" Angelique squinted as if straining to see in the dark. "She's having difficulty passing over. That's common with traumatized ghosts."

After two minutes of this, Becky told the cameraman to stop filming. I took a seat on a stone bench and waited my turn. At this rate, it wouldn't be long.

"I think I see her," Angelique was saying. "Her hair… it's light. No, maybe dark…"

A whisper rushed past my ear and I spun, nearly falling off the bench. I fought the urge to look around and kept my gaze straight ahead. The whisper seemed to circle me, a pss-pss-pss that made the hairs on my neck rise.

Fingers brushed my arm. I narrowed my eyes, withdrawing into that most primitive response-mentally stopping up my ears, squeezing my eyes shut and repeating, "I can't hear you. I can't hear you." As silly and immature as it felt, there was nothing else I could do with people all around me. Just ignore it and hope it went away.

Someone slapped me. A smack across my cheek so hard I reeled, gasping. Fury followed surprise as I pictured my mother's face above mine, heard her voice: "Don't look at me that way, Jaime. I was only getting your attention"-even as her slap still burned.

My hand went to my cheek.

As I looked up, I saw all eyes on me and realized I'd gasped aloud. Even Angelique had stopped and was glaring daggers at me.

"Sorry. I thought I…" I shook my head. "Never mind. Sorry."

"Oh, my God, your cheek!" Becky said. "There's a mark. Brian, get the camera over here."

Damn it. There was nothing more unprofessional than derailing a colleague's seance. Angelique's glares turned lethal. Worse yet was Grady's frown, one that said he hadn't expected such dirty tricks from me, and would need to be wary from now on.

"It's not-" I rubbed my cheek. "Something stung me. I'm so sorry. Please, Angelique, continue, with my apologies."

"Actually, I was just going to ask Angel to take a rest," Becky said. "But maybe you can give her a hand instead. Help her pull Tansy out of limbo."

"I'm not sure I should interfere…"

Angelique wheeled, frustration blazing in her eyes. Her first big shot and she was blowing it. Damned if she was going down alone.

"Oh, Jaime," she said, gripping my hands. "I would be honored if you'd help. Unless you think you can't. I'd heard you've been having some trouble lately…"

I laughed. "I'd love to know who told you that. Let's see what I can do."

After a few minutes of intense concentration, I wiped sweat from my forehead. Unlike Angelique, I'd been at this long enough to make it look like I was working hard. When I "finished," my hands were trembling, and the cameramen zoomed in on them and my glistening brow. Even Grady looked impressed-though maybe that's because his gaze was glued to my heaving bosom.

"Oh, I think-" I said finally. "Yes, here she… Can you hear me, Tansy?" I paused. "Good. I was just checking. We had some trouble making contact there."

Another pause. Then a grave nod. "I completely understand."

Around me, all had gone silent. Even the most jaded leaned forward, hoping. That's the appeal of ghosts. Hope. That prayer for proof that we exist-in some conscious form-after death. With ghosts, even the staunchest paranormal skeptics wouldn't mind being proven wrong.

I played into that with the conviction only a necromancer can have-the knowledge that the spirit of Tansy Lane really was out there somewhere. Just not here. Not now. A minor hurdle easily overcome with decent acting skills.

"I have someone here who'd like to speak to you, Tansy." I moved aside.

Angelique glanced around, then took a slow step back. "You brought her through. You should talk to her first."

Becky motioned the cameraman forward. "No, Jaime's right. She helped. It's your turn."

After a few protests, Angelique gave in and started fumbling almost immediately, now unable to hide behind the pretense that Tansy was out of reach.

I took my spot on the bench and braced myself against the ghost. It was the only thing I could do, short of claiming illness and forfeiting my segment. Even if this was only going on the DVD, it would be seen by people who mattered, and knowing something about Tansy's background gave me the edge I'd need to outperform an amateur and an Englishman who, I hoped, knew little of the case. So I was staying put.

The spirit left me alone for a few blessed minutes, then started up again. No slaps this time, just the whispers and gentle strokes on my hand that seemed oddly apologetic.

I'd have to deal with this. Not now, but tonight, when everyone had retired. Get out my kit and do a full-scale summoning. As much as I longed to ignore it, I couldn't risk this ghost interfering with the shoot.

When a young woman slid up beside me, close enough to get on camera should it pivot my way, I gave a distracted smile and stepped aside to give her room. I'm used to that-people sidling into camera range.

The girl edged toward me again. "You wanted to talk to me?"

I motioned that I couldn't speak right now. Bad enough I'd already interrupted Angelique. I couldn't be seen chatting with guests during her segment.

"Who is she talking to?" the young woman asked.

I leaned over. "She's contacted the ghost of-"

I stopped as a nearby guard turned to stare at me. I recognized that look all too well. It starts with a frown of confusion, followed by a sweeping glance around me, then the cautious look one bestows on people who carry on conversations with thin air.

By now you'd think I'd be able to recognize a ghost. But here was a seemingly corporeal young woman in a party gown appropriate for tonight's event. The only sign that she was a ghost was that no one else was paying attention to her, despite the fact that she was young and beautiful.

"Who-?" I stopped as her first words came back. "Tansy?"

She grinned. "Who else? You're lucky I got your message. You must have done something wrong, because it didn't come straight through to me. Someone watching the show came to tell me. Too cool. I've never been summoned by a… What do they call you guys again?"

"Necromancer," I said, trying to speak without moving my lips.

"Freaky." She waved at Angelique. "Speaking of freaky, what's up with that chick?"