The House on Black Lake (12 page)

There are no commercial establishments along this raw cement corridor, although there is an occasional oddly shaped door with a symbol. The tunnel grows more narrow and steep as it twists and turns downward. The air is damp, cold, steeping with a raw undercurrent of the subterranean. I grasp onto the steel railing and struggle with claustrophobia, and a powerful desire to turn back, to race up to fresh air and sunlight. I cannot fathom an existence beneath the earth.

Ruth stops in front of a door pinned with a clover talisman and knocks three times in quick succession. A woman with a girlish face opens the door and reaches out a slender hand.

“I am Sophia, Kevin’s assistant. He is ready to greet you.”

“Go ahead,” Ruth says. “I’ll wait in the lobby.”

“I will introduce you,” Sophia says, and guides me through a door leading to a cramped office.

The clairvoyant sits at a desk scattered with papers, books, and crystals in all sizes and shapes. A painting of a muscled angel in a red loincloth hangs on the wall above him. The gorgeous spirit shoots up from the sea with wings thrust toward the clouds; his head arched back, gilded hair flowing, with shackled wrists, clenched fists and torn chains. Kevin turns to face me, and I see he is a small man with a compact muscular build and a well fed midsection. His short brown hair is flecked with gray and he is dressed in a plaid cotton shirt and khaki trousers. Around his neck he wears an engraved silver amulet.

“Alexandra,” he says, then gestures to a worn leather chair in the center of the room. “Would you like a glass of water?”

“Thank you. It’s hot outside. But I don’t suppose you concern yourself with the outer elements.”

He moves to a water cooler where he pours me a cup.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Very.”

“First, let me tell you a little about my background and how I work. I come from a clan of psychics, astrologers, and soothsayers originating in the highlands of Ireland. The clan was inbred for generations and the secrets and powers grew within the closed group. For many centuries my people actually lived underground, hidden in natural caves and caverns, and later in an infrastructure of catacombs built into the hillsides. Religious persecution spared no one at an earlier time in our country’s history. To save themselves from annihilation and protect their rituals and beliefs, they were forced into subterranean habitation. That may be why I feel the need to live beneath the earth for a full season each year.

“I am a medium, although I dabble in all forms of the paranormal. However, the gift to communicate with the departed is a rare one, so I focus most of my energy on keeping in close communication with the other side. My experience has taught me that blood relatives, those who carry a direct line of DNA, are the best conduits. Although any spirit can be an excellent guide, as we all carry strands of the same elementary matter. Many times, a number of spirits wait at the gates. Often, it is the noisiest that gets to speak first. If you have psychic tendencies and are open to receiving transmissions, our work here can be quite powerful.”

He looks at me with deep intensity in his sparkling blue eyes. “Have you ever experienced a psychic episode?”

“I have powerful dreams. On occasion, a premonition.”

“Do they frighten you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Interesting. I’m surprised you aren’t aware of certain gifts.”

“Such as?”

“Alexandra, I do not wish to alarm you, but are you aware that there is a spirit in the room that walked in with you?”

I return his direct gaze and attempt to ascertain if he is serious.

“There is a spirit standing next to you on your right side. Can you feel its presence?”

“What does this spirit look like?”

“It is not in human form. I am going into a channeling to see if I can make contact. Relax, sit quietly, and wait until I’ve finished before asking any questions. We do not want to interrupt the flow.”

Kevin closes his eyes and rocks rhythmically, while lightly humming. As the rocking grows in intensity, his voice deepens and his face twists into an expression of severe pain. He opens his mouth and lets out a long sigh as a damp air creeps into the room. “I have made contact with the woman,” he says in breathy voice, devoid of the lyrical qualities of his native tongue.

“She tells me her name is Paget, and she is your cousin and your aunt.”

“I have neither a cousin nor aunt named Paget.”

“She says she is the daughter of your grandfather and your aunt Rhonda.”

I shift in my chair, take my gaze from him and search the room for... something, I don’t know what.

“Do you have an aunt named Rhonda, Alexandra?”

“How did you know?”

“Would you like to hear her story?”

“Yes, please.”

His eyes focus on a spot above my shoulder, and he tips his head a bit, as if to listen intently.

“Paget tells me she was conceived through incest. One day, after learning she was pregnant with her boyfriend’s child, she took a small fishing boat out onto a lake on the property of her adopted family home, jumped into the deepest part and drowned herself. It was the only way she could destroy the legacy of the tainted union of father and daughter, from which she was given her wretched life.”

“Drowned?”

He raises his hand, as though to quiet me.

“Her spirit, tormented by a fateful act, was not able to pass over to the other side. She has stayed as a troubled spirit in the land of the living. Her purpose has been to guide and protect. Paget has followed you throughout your days. She has been there through your struggles, and has witnessed both the cruelties endured as well as the acts of kindness. She has interceded many times on your behalf.”

Kevin takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, nodding his head as he seems to listen carefully. His closed eyelids flicker.

“Paget says a hidden truth, such as hers, is like the seedling of a giant tree. It germinates quietly in darkness and sends out long tangled roots to suck up nutrients. Finally, it bursts forth, casting branches and leaves to steal sunlight from other vegetation. A hidden truth can taint and pollute for generations; its effects can ripple out into the universe. Only a catastrophic act of nature, or man, can destroy it for good.

“She withdraws when she feels you are safe and is drawn back when she senses imminent danger.

“You have a strong tie to the spirit world and are capable of powerful communication, but are not participating. Her greatest wish is for you to learn to use your powers, to protect yourself and illuminate others. She will leave the world of the living forever on the day of illumination. Her life, created in evil and ended in self-destruction, will be absolved when you take action.” He slowly opens his eyes and looks directly at me.

“Do you have anything you would like to ask of her?”

“What does she see in my future?”

He blinks rapidly and his cheeks drain of their ruddy color.

“If you accept your unfolding fate, you are in profound danger. You must take another path, one that is foreign—beyond your imagination. You must recapture the bold spirit that helped you survive your childhood and use it to dispel the dark opposing forces. It will lead you to those who share the wisdom, the secrets of the cosmic forces of our universe.”

“I don’t understand. What does that mean?”

“There is a child...” he pauses and knits his brow into an expression of concern.

“She says there is a child who shares the gift, the power to feed into the spirit world, to receive messages through dreams, instinct, and psychic telepathy. He shares the knowledge of the ages, and is the son of the son and the architect of the shift.”

“None of it makes any sense.”

“She is fading away.” His voice now carries the melodic tone of his native tongue.

“The spirit has left, Alexandra. I am speaking now as an adviser.”

Kevin’s face has regained its color and he sits with legs crossed and elbows relaxed on the armrests of his chair.

“The language of spirits is often difficult to interpret. It is filled with words and symbols from the past and future, with a cosmic point of view. Their world is not encumbered by place, time, or matter. Interpretation of the language is individual; you must find the answers for yourself. Unfortunately, in this time of history, most cultures do not incorporate the Shaman, who dedicate their lives to spiritual matters. Your path will become clearer when you begin your search for your personal truth and find others who share your vision.”

“I have no vision, or even a plan. How do I search for my personal truth if I have no clue what I am looking for?”

“Devote yourself to your intuitions. The path to peace is not through ease and comfort; it is through acquired knowledge and self-discovery.”

A pleasant smile and nod are all I can muster. I will bear my hopeless prognosis and leave the box of tissues on the floor for the next lost soul.

“We must end now.”

I stand from the chair and move towards the door.

“Alexandra...”

I turn back to Kevin.

“You must protect the child.”

“Which child?”

“She didn’t say.”

With that, I exit the room.

“I
N THE
U
NDERGROUND, YOU CAN HAVE SEX WITH A YOUNG LOVER
and not worry about looking like an octogenarian when the sun rises. This is my favorite bar.” We enter a cocktail lounge lit entirely with black lights. The bras, miniskirts, and lipstick of the waitresses glow strangely in the dark.

“I’ll have a double martini with an olive and a twist,” Ruth says to a waitress with the lips of an enormous sea bass.

“Make that two.”

I turn to see a flash of red cloth and a radiant head near the front of the bar.

“Ruth, look... there at the entrance... do you see the woman in the red sweater with white hair? She has been following me all day.”

She glances behind her. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Standing by the door, behind the plant.”

I look back to an empty space.

“I think I’m going mad.”

“Kevin would say, ‘Show me someone who isn’t.’ I believe it’s all a matter of degree.”

“He told me I have a friendly ghost at my side.”

“Don’t look so glum, dear. And for God’s sake, don’t take it seriously. Kevin can get a little dramatic, a bit over the top occasionally. It’s really just entertainment.

“If you think your story is far-fetched, you won’t believe what he once told Ramey. He said he is a direct descendant of the great King Ramses of Egypt. Even more outlandish, he told Ramey that Ramses was a descendent of a master race of people from a distant planet, who colonized the earth eons ago. Of course, my dear husband loved that one; I couldn’t get him off his pedestal for weeks.”

The waitress sets down two frosty martinis in wide-rimmed glasses with double olives. Ruth hands the waitress a fifty, takes a couple of pills from a silver case, and dismisses the girl with a flick of her wrist.

“Kevin likes to shake people up and move them out of the status quo. His mission is to empower his clientele.

“Oh dear, your poor little ghost, standing here next to us and unable to take a sip of this delicious cocktail. That is a fate worse than death, I do declare.

“Here’s to life!” Ruth raises her glass in the air to join me in a toast. She pops the pills into her mouth, throws back her martini, and exhales a wicked, throaty laugh.