June's hands quivered, ripped tissue poking through the gaps between her fingers.
"Please relax your hands. The spirits will not allow a true response if you nervous." She turned to her scribe, a boy with a birdlike frame. "Bring me chamomile tea, at once. For both me and my guest."
He nodded solemnly, "Yes, Madame de Rothschild." And slipped off nimbly.
"I know." June said quietly, addressing the nervousness a beat too late. It was her third talking board reading this week, she wanted real answers and wanted them quickly. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the tall lavender candles that sat in the corners of the room. The breath reached her diaphragm and tickled the child in her womb. She had always loved the smell of lavender. It reminded her of her childhood home, offering her comfort. That might have been why she instinctively trusted this psychic above the others, despite her offensive name.
The scribe placed a china cup into the earthy hands of the psychic, and then June's own ashen palms. The psychic took a sip, and paused for June to also sip her tea. Psychic Rothschild blinked blue eyelids that opened and closed over purple colored contacts, watching June replace the small china cup into the saucer. Her dark hair seemed slightly askew, like a wig that was put on incorrectly. Perhaps, it was a wig. "Are you ready to begin, my child?"
June took another breath. "Of course." She placed a clammy hand over her belly, her child's head nudging against her hand through her flesh and clothing. This gesture seemed to offer reassurance to her child and herself, her fingers no longer shaking as she placed them on the planchette of the talking board.
"Spirit, I, Gitana de Rothschild, invoke, conjure and command you to open yourself for advice in this sacred space. I call upon my spirit guides. Be with me here and speak to me through this medium. Indicate your presence here by moving the planchette to 'yes'."
June silently prayed that she would finally find a true psychic, one that would give her advice for the future. The disheveled nature of de Rothschild was not as convincing as her last divination readings. Almost out of options, June turned to the side of Salem that was prepared for the festival for her last shreds of hope. She watched as the planchette moved to 'yes,' like it did every time. It seemed to impress Psychic Rothschild's scribe more than her. He watched with his large hazel eyes glued to the planchette, his small hand clamped down on the ballpoint pen he held. June blinked at him a few times, wondering why she saw him with a pale blue glow. After a moment, it went away.
"Saint Peter, Keeper of The Gate, Lord of Hidden Road Between Life and Death, I call on you. Saint Peter, I summon you. A follower of the Old Ways calls out to you. Open the gate between the Realm of the Living and the Realm of the Dead for I would traffick with the Peaceful Departed."
This seemed more legitimate than before. June was almost impressed by this old woman's command of the talking board.
"I call upon the Peaceful Dead. If there are any among you who would speak to us this night then be with us now in this sacred space. Indicate your presence and readiness by moving the planchette to 'yes'."
Again, the planchette moved to yes. There was a moment and the psychic looked at June and nodded. She cleared her throat and continued. Her voice floated in the room. Sacred space, it was.
"Peaceful spirits, I thank you for your willingness to speak with us this sacred night. We ask you for advice during the advent of this woman's pregnancy. Please, give us the answers we seek. If you can offer help, please give us your name."
The talking board froze on 'yes,' and the psychic opened a single eye to peek at the board and sighed.
"Peaceful spirits, we promise not to use you for harm or bad will. If you will return our good intentions, please give us your name."
The planchette moved to the letter D and hesitated, only to move to 'no.' The scribe scribbled down the movements of the talking board. "Peaceful spirit called "D," thank you for offering your help. Do you have a message for this woman? Please have no fear and speak honestly in this sacred space."
The Ouija board moved from 'no' and spelled d – a – n – g – e – r – t- u – r – n – b – a – c – k – h – e – c – o – m – e –s.
The scribe's pen scratched against the page until he gasped and looked at Madame de Rothschild. "He comes?" He whispered, his high voice lilting at the end of the question.
June's eyes widened in horror as she watched Madame de Rothschild's lavender aura turn white, her purple eyes turning into pits of flame.
June screamed. She screamed as Madame de Rothschild did, their hands dragging the talking board to "good – bye."