The Sphere Chronicles: A Holding Kate Series Book (9 page)

The gypsy-looking woman closed the large book and blew out the candles, whispering in a strange language.

“Euphemia, what is all of this?” Donnie stepped toward the concierge.

“Madame Contessia is a spiritualist. She sensed the presence of the gray lady strongest in this room. We decided to have the séance here.”

“I go now.” Madame Contessia hunched over her big book and waddled from the room.

“I will contact you soon, Madame,” Euphemia called to her back.

“Listen, I don’t know how I feel about this,” Donnie said, passing a hand through his hair. “Does Corey know you are doing this?”

Mel slipped her small hand into his. “Euphemia, I don’t think I can sleep here anymore. It’s just too weird.” She stared at the center stage of the strange rite, just inches from her bed. A shiver passed through her, and she turned pleading eyes onto Donnie.

He gathered her under his arm.

“Of course, we will move you to the Bell Tower wing.” Euphemia pulled the cord twice. “Follow me.”

She whisked from the room with Donnie and Mel following hesitantly. They crossed to the farthest side of the corridor. Euphemia called out in Italian to two butlers who answered her summons. She withdrew a skeleton key from her pocket and opened another set of double doors.

“You may stay here for the remainder of your visit. Once again, I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Donnie and Mel stepped into another lush apartment, this one draped in shades of icy blue. Euphemia closed the door behind her, and Mel collapsed onto the satin bedspread.

Mel woke with a start. Moonlight filtered through the sheer drapes, caressing Donnie’s slumbering brow. She watched him sleep, and her heart melted in tenderness toward her husband. She touched her belly and said a prayer for the new life that grew there.

Muffled sounds came from somewhere in the mansion. She lay still and listened. A creak on the stairs, a scuff of a shoe. Low murmurs trickled down the corridor. Mel quietly slipped out of bed and into her robe and slippers. She pressed her ear to the arched walnut doors but couldn’t hear anything else.

Silent as possible, she opened the door and peered through the dim light of the wall sconces to the master suite. Candlelight flickered from beneath the doors and shadows passed through the spilled light.

“What are you doing?” a voice spoke in her ear.

She jumped and clamped her hand over her mouth before she realized it was Donnie. He chuckled at her reaction.

“Shh,” she scolded. “Something is going on in there.”

Donnie rubbed his eyes and squinted at the doors. “You think they resumed the séance already?”

Mel nodded and opened the door. Donnie clamped a hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing, Mel?”

“I’m going to investigate.” She yanked her head toward the master suite.

Donnie sighed, then followed.

Mel turned the knob to the adjoining bathroom. It was unlocked so they crept in and shut the door. The curtain that separated the bath from the bedroom fluttered. An inch opened between the two panels. Mel and Donnie took stations behind the fabric shield and peered into the bizarre scene in their old room.

Madame Contessia hovered in her spot, hunched over the grimoire. Candles belched waxy smoke as the Madame chanted and swayed. The servants held hands around the table, eyes pressed tightly together.

The Madame’s chant shifted back and forth between the strange language and Italian. Mel could only make out a few words;
spirito
, for spirit, and
fantasma
, which she assumed meant ghost. The hair on Mel’s arms stood straight. She shivered, and Donnie draped over her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

The medium’s voice rose higher and louder until the chant reached a crescendo with a loud, “
Sii libero
!
Sii libero
!
Sii libero
!”

“I must speak to you.”

Mel and Donnie jerked around. There was no one there. Donnie pulled Mel under his arm. They stared around the dark bathroom, wide-eyed.

“I must speak,” a high-pitched female voice whispered. Mel followed the sound to the highest point in the far right corner of the bathroom. Nothing was there.

“Did you hear that?” Donnie asked.

“Over there.” Mel pointed to the ceiling.

“I heard it over there.” Donnie pointed to the opposite side of the room where the large bathing pool sat empty.

Mel didn’t dare breathe. She and Donnie stood in silent apprehension, waiting for the voice to speak again. The séance in the bedroom broke up, and the servants filed through the double doors and down the hall to their respective service areas. Euphemia and Madame Contessia were the last to leave the room. They moved past the bathroom door, voices deliberating as they descended the stairs.

“Come on.” Donnie opened the hallway door, checked for stragglers, then they stole back to their new room.

“Donnie, what just happened?” Mel discarded her robe and crawled into bed.

“I think they call that a disembodied voice.” Donnie scooted to the middle of the king-size bed and drew Mel close.

Mel arched a brow at him. “I think you’ve been watching too much
Haunted Hunters
.”

“Are you kidding? We’ve been on a technology fast since the beginning of summer!” Donnie nuzzled Mel’s hair. “Besides, what would you call it?”

“Scary.”

“Don’t be scared, my love. She doesn’t seem dangerous.”

“I wonder what she wants to tell us.” Mel tucked the blanket under her chin and snuggled into Donnie’s warmth.

“Hmm,” Donnie answered, well on his way to slumber.

Mel shivered at his side. Donnie woke in a cloud of his own breath. Frost crept over the dewdrop-shaped crystals of the chandelier over the bed. Mel woke as he jostled to a seated position.

“What’s wrong?” She sat up beside him, teeth chattering. “Gah! It’s ice cold in here.”

Her breath trailed a fog, tentacles dissipating into the darkness. Donnie reached for her but couldn’t take his eyes off the figure at the foot of the bed.

The Gray Maiden stood as if catatonic, pointing to Mel. Eyes glowing toxic green, they fixed on her belly.

Mel gasped and pulled the covers to her chin, leaning into Donnie.

“I must tell you.” The eerie voice reverberated in the darkness. “I must… I must tell…must tell you.” Echoes overlapped and gnarled together like roots of an ancient elm. Some sounding as distant screams, others as whispers of breath on the ear.

Heart pounding in his chest, Donnie gaped at the specter. Mel shivered and whimpered. A light scent tinted the air. Donnie thought of the lavender-scented baby powder and diaper cream that Eunavae made for them in Jewel City. He pressed Mel closer to his side.

“Wha-what must you tell us?” Mel whispered into the frigid, torpid room.

In a flash, the Gray Maiden stood over them. She leaned across Donnie and whispered to Mel’s belly. “The baby. The baby is precious. He will save the world.” Her hand wafted against Mel’s cheek leaving an icy trail.

Then she was gone.

The room returned to a gentle summer warmth. A soft breeze billowed the sheer curtain, exchanging the lavender baby scents for the jasmine growing along the trellis.

Mel cradled her abdomen, still quaking with adrenalin, large round eyes seeking answers from Donnie.

He shook his head and lay a reassuring palm over her hands.

Bags packed, Mel stood at the window gazing over the perfectly manicured grounds. Donnie slipped his arms through hers and cradled the baby in her womb. He rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Are you ready to go home?” he whispered.

“I will miss this place, but yeah, I’m ready to see our friends at Heartwork.”

“I’m sure Corey will let us come back anytime we want.”

Mel hummed a reply, then turned to face her husband. “So, you think it really is a boy?”

Donnie cocked his head to the side and studied Mel’s face. Finally he answered, “Maybe, but let’s make a deal. Let’s never speak of this to him or anyone else. Let’s just wait and watch. It will be our own private memory.”

Mel pursed her lips, brow creased, and considered his proposition. “I think that is very wise, Donnie. Our secret.” She kissed him to seal the promise.

A knock sounded on the open door. They turned to see Euphemia and Roberto standing there with smiling faces.

“We came to retrieve your luggage and say goodbye,” Euphemia said, waving two servants ahead of her. They gathered the baggage and exited. Roberto and Euphemia approached Mel and Donnie.

“This…for you.” Roberto held out a large manila folder.

Donnie took it and opened it to reveal a crackled and ancient photo of the Gray Maiden.

“We found the files on her,” Euphemia said. “Her name was Mela´nie Marcucci.” Euphemia pointed to the name at the bottom of the photo.

Mel’s mouth dropped. “My maiden name is Melanie Marcus!”

Euphemia and Roberto exchanged knowing glances. “
Si
, and the similarities do not stop there.”

Roberto twisted his cap in his hands. “
Si
.” He nodded then looked to Euphemia to tell the story.

“She married a man named Charles Parker and sadly died giving birth to their first
bambini
.”

Mel’s hands involuntarily reached for her womb. Euphemia and Roberto followed her motions with their eyes. Euphemia registered a smile, her suspicions obviously confirmed.

Roberto continued, “The son became, how you say, my many greats,
nonno…
er grand, grandpadre.”

“We believe your visit somehow stimulated her activity.” Euphemia held her palms up in a helpless gesture. “It is only a guess. Roberto saw her once when he was a child when a servant gave birth, and again when his own daughter was born.”

“But my baby is only in the first trimester. Why would she become active for me?”

Roberto and Donnie shrugged. Euphemia touched her chin and said, “Perhaps the similarity in your names beckoned. Or perhaps the
bambino
called to her. It has been a very long time since we had a
bambino
on the premises.”