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Authors: F. Paul Wilson

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BOOK: The Haunted Air
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Jack found an empty spot and pulled into the curb.
Junie was out the door before he'd put the car in PARK. “Come on, guys! Let's go talk to dead folks!”
Karyn and Claude piled out, but Jack stayed put. “I think we'll pass.”
“Aw, no,” Junie said, leaning toward the passenger window. “Gia, you've got to come meet him. You've got to see what he can do!”
Gia looked at him. “What do you say?”
Jack lowered his voice. “I know this game. It's not—”
“You were a psychic?”
“No. I just helped one once.”
“Great! Then you can explain it all afterwards.” She smiled and tugged on his arm. “Come on. This could be fun.”
“Fun like that party?” Gia gave him a look so Jack shrugged his acquiescence. “All right. Let's see if this guy lives up to Junie's press release.”
Junie cheered and led Karyn and Claude toward the house while Jack closed up the car. He joined Gia at the curb. He started toward the house but stopped when he saw it.
“What's wrong?” Gia said.
He stared at the house. “Look at this place.”
Jack couldn't say why, but he immediately disliked the house. It was colonial in shape, with an attached garage, but made of some sort of dark brown stone. It probably looked better during the day. Jack could make out a well-trimmed lawn and impatiens and marigolds in bloom among the foundation plantings along the front porch. But here in the dark it seemed to squat on its double-size lot like some huge, glowering toad edging hungrily toward the sidewalk. He could imagine a snakelike tongue uncoiling through the front door and snagging some unwary passerby.
“Definitely creepy looking,” Gia said. “Probably by design.”
“Don't go in there,” said an accented voice from his left.
Jack turned and saw a slim, dark Indian woman in a royal blue sari, strolling her way along the sidewalk, being led by a big German shepherd on a leash.
“Excuse me?” Jack said.
“Very bad place,” the woman said, closer now. Her dark hair was knitted into a long thick braid that trailed over her right shoulder; a fine golden ring pierced her right nostril. “Bad past. Worse future. Stay away.” She didn't slow her pace as she came abreast of them. Her black eyes flashed at Jack—“Stay away”—then at Gia—“especially you.”
Then she walked on. The dog looked back over his shoulder, but the woman did not.
“Now
that's
creepy,” Gia said as an uncertain smile wavered across her lips.
Jack had always believed that in confronting a fear and facing it down, you weakened it. Recent events had given him second thoughts about the wisdom of that belief. And with Gia along …
“Maybe we should listen to her.”
Gia laughed. “Oh, come
on!
She probably works for this guy; he sends her out to get us in the mood. Or maybe she's just a local wacko. You're not taking her seriously, are you?”
Jack looked after the retreating saried figure, now barely visible in the shadows. After what he'd been through lately,
he was taking a lot more things seriously, things he'd laughed at before.
“I don't know.”
“Oh, let's go,” she said, tugging him up the front walk. “Junie's been seeing him for a couple of months and nothing bad's happened to her.”
Jack put an arm around Gia's back and together they approached the house. They joined the others on the front porch where Junie had been jabbing at the bell button with no results.
She jabbed it again. “Where is he?”
“Maybe he's not home,” Jack said.
“He's got to be! I can't—”
Just then the front door eased open a crack. Jack saw an eye and a sliver of dark cheek.
“Ifasen! It's me! Junie! Thank God you're here!”
The door opened wider, revealing a tall, lean black man, maybe thirty. He wore a white T-shirt and gray slacks; his hair was woven into neat, tight dreads that brushed his wide shoulders. Ifasen reminded Jack of Lenny Kravitz in his dreadlock days.
“Ms. Moon,” he said with an unplaceable accent. “It's late.”
Jack hid a smile at the obvious statement. This guy was experienced. The normal response would be,
What are you
doing here at this hour?
But if you're supposed to be someone who knows all—or maybe not all, but a helluva lot more than ordinary people—you don't ask questions. You make statements.
But he wondered at the man's expression when he'd opened the door. He'd looked … relieved. Who had he been expecting?
“I know. And I know my appointment's tomorrow, but I had to come.”
“You couldn't wait,” he said, his tone calm, exuding confidence and assurance.
“Yes! Right! I need your help! I lost my good luck bracelet! You've got to find it for me!”
As he considered her plea, his gaze roamed among Jack and Gia and the others on the porch.
“I see you've brought company.”
“I told them all about you and they're dying to meet you. Can we come in? Please?”
“Very well,” Ifasen said. He stepped back and opened the door the rest of the way. “But only for a few minutes. I have to be rested for my early clients tomorrow.”
That's right, Jack remembered. Weekends are busy times for psychics.
Junie led the way, followed by Karyn and Claude. Jack and Gia were just stepping over the threshold when a deep rumble filled the air, vibrating through their bones and shaking the house.
“Bomb!” Ifasen yelled. “Out! Everybody out!”
Then another sound, a deafening, high-pitched, echoing scream—whether of pain, fear, or joy, Jack couldn't say—filled the air.
Didn't sound like a bomb to Jack but he wasn't taking any chances. He grabbed Gia and hauled her back across the porch and onto the lawn. Junie, Claude, and a shrieking Karyn scurried behind them.
Ifasen was still at the front door, calling for someone named Charlie.
Jack kept moving, pushing Gia ahead of him up the walk toward the car. Then he noticed something.
He stopped. “Wait. Feel that?”
Gia looked into his eyes, and then at her feet. “The ground …”
“Right. It's shaking.”
“Oh, my God!” Junie cried. “It's an earthquake!”
Just as suddenly as the tremors had started, they stopped.
Jack looked around. Across the street, up and down the block, lights were on and people were spilling out into their yards, standing around in all states of dress and undress, some crying, some looking simply bewildered.
Gia was staring at him. “Jack. An earthquake? In New York?”
“Don't you remember that one on the Upper East Side back in ‘01?”
“I read about it, but I never felt it. I felt
this
. And I didn't like it!”
Neither had Jack. Maybe people in places like LA got used to something like this, but feeling the solid granite bedrock of good old New York City rolling and trembling under his feet … pretty damn unsettling.
“What about that other sound? Like a scream? Did you hear that?”
Gia nodded as she moved closer and clutched his arm. “Like a damned soul.”
“Probably just some old nails tearing free in the quake.”
“If you say so. Sure sounded like a voice though.”
Sure did, Jack thought. But he didn't want to add to her unease.
He looked around and saw Ifasen approaching with another, younger black man who bore a family resemblance. Both had similar builds and features, but instead of dreads the newcomer's hair was cut in a neat fade. He wore black slacks, black sneakers, and a lightweight long-sleeve turtleneck, also black.
“An earthquake, Ifasen!” Junie said. “Can you believe it?”
“I knew something was going to happen,” Ifasen said. “But impending seismic activity interferes with psychic transmission, so I couldn't get a clear message.”
Jack nodded approval. The guy ad-libbed well.
Close up now, Jack noticed a horizontal scar along Ifasen's left cheek; his milk chocolate skin was otherwise flawless except for the stipple of whiskers shadowing his jaw.
“Can we go back inside now?” Junie said.
Ifasen shook his head. “I don't know …”
“
Please?
”
He sighed. “Very well. But only briefly.” He put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. “This, by the way, is my brother Kehinde. He lives in Menelaus Manor with me.”
Menelaus Manor? Jack thought, staring at the old house. This place has a name?
Kehinde led the way back to the house. Jack hung back with Gia so he could talk to Ifasen.
“Why'd you think it was a bomb?”
Ifasen blinked but his onyx eyes remained unreadable. “What gives you that idea?”
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you yelled ‘Bomb!' when the house started to shake.”
“I'm not sure. Perhaps I was startled and it was the first thought that came to mind. The pre-seismic vibrations—”
Jack held up a hand. “Yeah. You told us.”
Jack sensed Ifasen was telling the truth, and that bothered him. When your house starts to shake, rattle, and roll, it could be a lot of things, but
bomb
should not be first on your guess list.
Unless you were expecting one.
“And where's Charlie?”
Ifasen stiffened. “Who?”
“I heard you calling for someone named Charlie while we were evacuating.”
“You must have misheard me, sir. I was calling for my brother Kehinde.”
Jack turned to Gia. “Let's split. I don't think this is a good idea.”
Before Gia could answer, Ifasen said, “Please. There's nothing to fear. Really.”
“Let's do it, Jack.” She glanced at Ifasen. “It'll take us, what—half an hour?”
“At most.” Ifasen smiled. “As I said, I need my rest.”
Half an hour, Jack thought. Okay. What could happen in half an hour?
“This is my channeling room,” Ifasen said with a sweeping gesture.
Impressive, Jack thought as he looked around.
Ifasen had decked out the high-ceilinged first-floor room with a wide array of spiritualist and New Age paraphernalia along with some unique touches. Most striking were the host of statues—some looked like the real deal—from churches and Indian temples and Mayan pyramids: Mary, Saint Joseph, Kali, Shiva, a totem pole, a snake-headed god, cathedral gargoyles, and a ten-foot stone Ganesha holding a gold scepter in his coiled elephant trunk. Drapes covered the windows. The oak-paneled walls were festooned with paintings of spiritualist icons. Jack recognized Madame Blatavsky, the Mona Lisa of this Louvre of phonies.
At the far end of the room sat a round table surrounded by chairs; an ornate, pulpitlike podium upon a two-foot dais dominated the near end; Ifasen took his place behind it while Jack, Gia, Junie, Karyn, and Claude seated themselves among the chairs clustered before it.
“I am Ifasen,” he said, “and I have been blessed with a gift that allows me to communicate with the spirit world. I cannot speak directly with the dead, but with the aid of Ogunfiditimi, an ancient Nigerian wise man who has been my spirit guide since I was a child, I can bring revelations and messages of peace and hope to our world from the place beyond.
“Ms. Moon's sitting with me was scheduled for tomorrow, but due to her dire need, I have moved it up to tonight. In gratitude, she has made a generous donation to the Menelaus
Manor Foundation on behalf of you, her friends, to allow you to become part of her sitting.”
Karyn and Claude clapped; Junie, alone in the front row, turned and waved.
“I will answer her question and yours in the form of a billet reading,” Ifasen said. “My brother Kehinde is passing among you with billets, envelopes, and pens.”
The billets turned out to be index cards. Jack took a couple from Kehinde for Gia and himself. He knew this game but decided to play along.
Ifasen said, “Please write your question on the billet, sign it, fold it, and seal it in the envelope. I will then contact Ogunfiditimi and ask him if he can find the answers in the spirit world. This is not a time for prank questions, or schemes to test the spirit world. Do not waste Ogunfiditimi's time by asking a question to which you already know the answer. And realize this: the mere fact that you have asked a question does not obligate the spirits to answer. They pick and choose. The worthier the question, the more likely it will be answered.”
Great hedge, Jack thought. The perfect out.
“May I ask a question?” Gia said, raising her hand like a schoolgirl.
“Of course.”
“Why do we have to seal the question in an envelope? Why can't we simply hand you the card and get the answer?”
Ifasen smiled. “Excellent question. Communication with the spirit world is not like a long-distance call. Words sometimes filter through, but often the communication is in the form of hints and feelings. To open the clearest channel, I need to empty my mind. If I'm thinking about the question, I'll muddy the waters with my own opinions and prejudices. But if I don't know the question, then my own thoughts can't get in the way. What comes through then is pure Spirit Truth.”
“Smooth,” Jack whispered. “Silky smooth.”
Jack scribbled
How is my sister?
on his card and showed it to Gia.
“Is that fair?” she said.
“It's something I'd like to know.”
Before he folded the card he tore a piece off the top left corner. As he slipped it inside the envelope he glanced at Gia and saw her sealing hers.
“What did you ask?”
She smiled. “That's between me and Ogunfiditimi.”
He was about to press her when a soft musical chime filtered through the room. He looked up and saw Ifasen holding what appeared to be a large bowl of beaten brass on the tips of his fingers.
“This is a ceremonial bell from a temple deep in the jungles of Thailand. It is said that if properly mounted it will ring an entire day from a single stroke.” He flicked a fingernail against the shiny surface and again the soft chime sounded. “But tonight we will be using it as a bowl to collect your billets.”
He handed the bell to Kehinde who passed among them, collecting the envelopes. Jack kept an eye on him, watching closely as the younger brother placed the bell behind the base of the podium. He fiddled with something out of sight, then shook out a white cloth. The bell reappeared, covered with the cloth, and was handed up to Ifasen.
Jack leaned back, nodding.
Gotcha.
Kehinde walked off and the lighting changed, the room growing dark while an overhead spot brightened, leaving Ifasen towering above them, bathed in a glow from heaven. He whipped off the white cloth and stared down into the bowl. After a moment he reached in and removed an envelope. He held it before him.
“I have the first question,” he intoned. He lowered his head and raised the envelope on high where it gleamed like a star in the brilliant light. “Ogunfiditimi, hear me. These supplicants come before me, seeking knowledge, knowledge that only you can provide. Heed their requests and furnish the answers they seek.”
He shuddered once, twice, then spoke in a flat, sepulchral tone.
“You are not yet ready. You must work harder, hone your craft, and above all, be patient. It will come.”
Ifasen looked up and blinked. He lowered the envelope and picked up a slim gold-plated letter opener. He slit the top of the envelope and pulled the card from within. He unfolded it and, to Jack's chagrin, held it by the upper left corner. After reading it he smiled down at Karyn. “Does that answer your question, Karyn?”
She nodded enthusiastically.
Clause said, “What did you ask?”
“I wanted to know when I'll be as successful as Junie.”
Junie turned to her. “Didn't I tell you? Isn't he just so amazing?”
“How does he do that?” Gia whispered.
“Later.”
Knowing pretty much how the rest of the act would go, Jack pulled out a folded pamphlet he'd picked up downstairs. The cover read
THE MENELAUS MANOR RESTORATION FOUNDATION
over a grainy picture of this old stone house. So that was where the donations went.
He opened the yellow tri-fold brochure and out fell another, smaller pamphlet, almost the size of the three-by-five billet he'd just filled out. The cover showed a crude illustration of a human silhouette falling into a pit next to the title, “The Trap.” He flipped it over and almost laughed aloud when he saw the words “Chick Publications.” A Born Again mini-comic. The opening pages showed a Christian character debunking a self-described channeler.
Some prankster was slipping Jack Chick's fundamentalist tracts into Ifasen's brochures. How rich.
Jack checked Ifasen, who had a fresh envelope held on high, but this time he skipped the incantation. Maybe he
was in a hurry. He shook his head as if trying to clear it, scrinched up his eyes, then shook his head again. Finally he lowered the envelope and cast a disapproving look at Claude.
“The spirits refuse to answer this. They want me to tell you to buy a calculator.”
He slit the envelope and unfolded the card—again holding it by the upper left corner. He read: “‘What is the square root of 2,762?'” He frowned at Claude, his disdain palpable. “What did I say about frivolous questions that waste the spirits' time?”
Claude grinned. “It's a question that's plagued me for years.”
Junie gave him a fierce look and slapped him on the knee. Jack decided he liked Claude.
He put aside the Chick pamphlet and was starting to read Ifasen's propaganda on this house and its history when Gia nudged him.
“Pay attention. You might be next.”
Jack refolded the brochure and trained his attention on Ifasen who had raised another envelope. He gave a couple of shudders, then, “Your sister sends you her love from the Other Side. She says she is well and to get on with your life.”
Jack couldn't help feeling a chill. He knew the game, knew Ifasen was winging it here, but this was exactly what Kate would say.
Ifasen was unfolding a card, holding it as usual by the upper left corner. “Does that answer your question, Jack?”
“Completely,” Jack said softly.
Gia looked at him with wide eyes and grabbed his arm. “Jack! How could he—?”
He cocked his head toward her and whispered, “An educated guess. He's very good.”
“How can you write that off as a guess?”
“Easy. Of course, if he'd said, ‘
Kate
sends her love,' that'd be a whole other ballgame. Big problem writing
that
off.”
Another envelope had been thrust into the light, and now Ifasen was frowning again.
“I'm having trouble with this. I sense a number trying to come through, but the seismic static has increased. I'm not sure, but I believe the number is two.” He opened his eyes. “And that's all.”
Ifasen wore a puzzled frown as he slit this envelope, but when he read the message, he smiled. “Two.” He looked up. “Does that satisfy you, Gia?”
“I … I think so,” Gia said.
Jack glanced at her and thought she looked a little pale. “What did you ask?”
“Tell you later,” she said.
“Now.”
“Later. I want to see if he knows where Junie's bracelet is.”
“The last envelope,” Ifasen said, thrusting it up into the light. He closed his eyes, went through the shuddering deal, then said, “It is not stolen. You will find it in the large blue vase.” He looked at Junie who was on her feet. “Do you have a large blue vase?”
“Yes! Yes!” She had her hands pressed against her mouth, muffling her words. “Right next to the door! But that can't be! How could it possibly get in there?”
“The spirits didn't say
how
, Ms. Moon,” Ifasen told her. “They simply said
where.”
“I've gotta go! I've so gotta get home and check that vase!” She ran up to the podium and threw her arms around her psychic. “Ifasen, you're the best, the greatest!” She turned to Jack and Gia and Karyn and Claude. “Isn't he fantastic! Isn't he just so incredible!”
Jack joined the applause. Nothing incredible about Ifasen, but he was good. He was very good.
BOOK: The Haunted Air
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