Dragon Soul
Page 11
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I was unsure of what to do—should I ignore Mrs. P’s objections, remove her from the tea shop, and hustle her back to the hotel? I couldn’t just walk away and leave her, not when she was so vulnerable, especially with the man from the plane watching our every move.
Time drifted past as I sat there waffling back and forth—to leave, or to just tough it out until the end of the séance, that was the question. Meanwhile, the woman hosting the séance continued in German, before switching to French, and then finally English.
“We will conduct a gathering of spirits, what is commonly called a séance, although here, you are the mediums. The spirits may speak through you, or speak to you—that is personal for each of you. Are we ready to begin?”
I slumped back, not paying the woman or her patter much attention, one eye on Mrs. P (clapping happily before telling the flapper named May that she was hoping the spirit of one of her lovers would present himself so they could catch up). The rest of my attention was split between the man from the plane and the silver-eyed man across from us who apparently had a few screws loose.
“Sophea.”
I hadn’t dozed off, but I must have slipped into a reverie, because I caught the echo of my name before it was repeated.
“Sophea!”
I looked up from where I’d been staring at the table, glancing first at Mrs. P, then at our tablemates. All three were looking at the table next to us, where a small, round woman with a mound of fat blond curls was staring at me, urgency written into her body language. “Sophea,” she repeated a third time.
“Yes?” I said, confused. Had I met her before? Was she someone who’d been on the plane?
“Let go of the guilt,” the woman said in a heavy German accent.
I frowned. “Um… okay. What guilt would that be?”
The woman frowned as well. “You were my mate, even if only for a few minutes. It was only right that I should give my life for yours.”
“Uh…” I stared at the woman in growing confusion. “Who…”
“It is me, Sophea. Jian. I take this opportunity to tell you to release the guilt you feel at my death.”
A little sob gathered in my throat. “I don’t…” I shook my head, blinking back unexpected tears. “I don’t… Jian?”
The woman’s voice softened and warmed. “It was only ever my desire for you to be happy. Know that, and carry it with you.”
Disbelief warred with a horrible suspicion that I was being taken for a fool, but how could this woman, this stranger know about Jian? How could she know about the guilt I carried so deep inside that I had survived when he hadn’t? How could anyone know these things? “Are you…” I was at a loss for words to ask what I wanted to know, blurting out, “Are you happy?”
“I am at peace. Now it is time for you to let go of the past and embrace what you have before you.”
I looked askance at the two people sitting in front of me. They wore identical speculative expressions. “Are you speaking metaphysically, or literally?” I asked.
The woman chuckled. “It was your humor that first attracted me, and your spirit that captured mine. But now it is time for me to release you from our bond. You have great things in store. Be brave, my heart. Be strong. Do not doubt.”
The tears rose again at the gentleness in the words. I blinked furiously, not wanting to bawl in front of everyone, but not entirely believing what was happening, either. “I’m glad you’re at peace. I do miss you.”
“And I you. But it is time for you to find your feet again. Look to the dragons. They will guide you.”
My gaze flickered to Mrs. P. Dragons again. Was this German woman working in cahoots with Mrs. P? Even as the thought crossed my mind, I rejected it. It had to be Jian speaking to me—no one else would know the things he said. “I don’t think I know—”
“You have great things in store,” the woman repeated before slumping dramatically onto the table.
I sank back into my chair, not aware I’d been tense and holding my breath until the woman had stopped speaking, and the séance hostess moved on to someone else.
“Did you know that woman?” I asked Mrs. P quietly, taking from her the salt shaker she was in the act of stealing.
“No.” She pouted a little, nodding at the silver object in my hand. “They have many others. I like it. It’s shiny.”
“She mentioned dragons,” I whispered.
“Of course. Your husband was one.” Her eyes focused on me with a clarity that I found startling. “He came a long way to release you from your bond to him. That bodes well for your man.”
“You think that’s what he was doing?” I bit my lip in thought, allowing her to take the salt shaker from my hand. “I haven’t really dated much since he died. I tried once or twice, going out for coffee or that sort of thing, but it always seemed… wrong. Like I was betraying him.”
She added the pepper shaker to its mate in the depths of her purse before shifting her attention to the person across the room who was arguing with a spirit about who was responsible for a broken lamp. “He had not released you then. He has done so now.”
I mused on that for a few minutes, wondering if the strange visitation was truly Jian, or if I’d been so desperate for it to be that I was willing to believe a handful of generic comments meant more than they did.
It was your humor that first attracted me, and your spirit that captured mine. I smiled a sad little smile. That was pure Jian—he had said the very first day we met that he loved my sense of humor and the bright shininess of my spirit. I hadn’t known then what he meant, but we were alone when he spoke those words, and I’d never mentioned his comment to anyone.
“Good-bye, Jian,” I whispered, and blinked back a few more tears that made my eyes sting.
Surreptitiously, I sniffed and brushed away an errant tear that escaped. Something caused me to turn my head, and I realized that the man from the plane was standing behind us, a long, pliable object dangling between his hands. Instantly, every movie I’d ever seen where someone was garroted from behind rose in my mind, causing me to knock my chair over backward as I leaped to my feet. “What the hell?” I shrieked, lunging between the man and Mrs. P, providing a barrier to her that would keep her safe. “Get away from her, you murderous freak!”
Time drifted past as I sat there waffling back and forth—to leave, or to just tough it out until the end of the séance, that was the question. Meanwhile, the woman hosting the séance continued in German, before switching to French, and then finally English.
“We will conduct a gathering of spirits, what is commonly called a séance, although here, you are the mediums. The spirits may speak through you, or speak to you—that is personal for each of you. Are we ready to begin?”
I slumped back, not paying the woman or her patter much attention, one eye on Mrs. P (clapping happily before telling the flapper named May that she was hoping the spirit of one of her lovers would present himself so they could catch up). The rest of my attention was split between the man from the plane and the silver-eyed man across from us who apparently had a few screws loose.
“Sophea.”
I hadn’t dozed off, but I must have slipped into a reverie, because I caught the echo of my name before it was repeated.
“Sophea!”
I looked up from where I’d been staring at the table, glancing first at Mrs. P, then at our tablemates. All three were looking at the table next to us, where a small, round woman with a mound of fat blond curls was staring at me, urgency written into her body language. “Sophea,” she repeated a third time.
“Yes?” I said, confused. Had I met her before? Was she someone who’d been on the plane?
“Let go of the guilt,” the woman said in a heavy German accent.
I frowned. “Um… okay. What guilt would that be?”
The woman frowned as well. “You were my mate, even if only for a few minutes. It was only right that I should give my life for yours.”
“Uh…” I stared at the woman in growing confusion. “Who…”
“It is me, Sophea. Jian. I take this opportunity to tell you to release the guilt you feel at my death.”
A little sob gathered in my throat. “I don’t…” I shook my head, blinking back unexpected tears. “I don’t… Jian?”
The woman’s voice softened and warmed. “It was only ever my desire for you to be happy. Know that, and carry it with you.”
Disbelief warred with a horrible suspicion that I was being taken for a fool, but how could this woman, this stranger know about Jian? How could she know about the guilt I carried so deep inside that I had survived when he hadn’t? How could anyone know these things? “Are you…” I was at a loss for words to ask what I wanted to know, blurting out, “Are you happy?”
“I am at peace. Now it is time for you to let go of the past and embrace what you have before you.”
I looked askance at the two people sitting in front of me. They wore identical speculative expressions. “Are you speaking metaphysically, or literally?” I asked.
The woman chuckled. “It was your humor that first attracted me, and your spirit that captured mine. But now it is time for me to release you from our bond. You have great things in store. Be brave, my heart. Be strong. Do not doubt.”
The tears rose again at the gentleness in the words. I blinked furiously, not wanting to bawl in front of everyone, but not entirely believing what was happening, either. “I’m glad you’re at peace. I do miss you.”
“And I you. But it is time for you to find your feet again. Look to the dragons. They will guide you.”
My gaze flickered to Mrs. P. Dragons again. Was this German woman working in cahoots with Mrs. P? Even as the thought crossed my mind, I rejected it. It had to be Jian speaking to me—no one else would know the things he said. “I don’t think I know—”
“You have great things in store,” the woman repeated before slumping dramatically onto the table.
I sank back into my chair, not aware I’d been tense and holding my breath until the woman had stopped speaking, and the séance hostess moved on to someone else.
“Did you know that woman?” I asked Mrs. P quietly, taking from her the salt shaker she was in the act of stealing.
“No.” She pouted a little, nodding at the silver object in my hand. “They have many others. I like it. It’s shiny.”
“She mentioned dragons,” I whispered.
“Of course. Your husband was one.” Her eyes focused on me with a clarity that I found startling. “He came a long way to release you from your bond to him. That bodes well for your man.”
“You think that’s what he was doing?” I bit my lip in thought, allowing her to take the salt shaker from my hand. “I haven’t really dated much since he died. I tried once or twice, going out for coffee or that sort of thing, but it always seemed… wrong. Like I was betraying him.”
She added the pepper shaker to its mate in the depths of her purse before shifting her attention to the person across the room who was arguing with a spirit about who was responsible for a broken lamp. “He had not released you then. He has done so now.”
I mused on that for a few minutes, wondering if the strange visitation was truly Jian, or if I’d been so desperate for it to be that I was willing to believe a handful of generic comments meant more than they did.
It was your humor that first attracted me, and your spirit that captured mine. I smiled a sad little smile. That was pure Jian—he had said the very first day we met that he loved my sense of humor and the bright shininess of my spirit. I hadn’t known then what he meant, but we were alone when he spoke those words, and I’d never mentioned his comment to anyone.
“Good-bye, Jian,” I whispered, and blinked back a few more tears that made my eyes sting.
Surreptitiously, I sniffed and brushed away an errant tear that escaped. Something caused me to turn my head, and I realized that the man from the plane was standing behind us, a long, pliable object dangling between his hands. Instantly, every movie I’d ever seen where someone was garroted from behind rose in my mind, causing me to knock my chair over backward as I leaped to my feet. “What the hell?” I shrieked, lunging between the man and Mrs. P, providing a barrier to her that would keep her safe. “Get away from her, you murderous freak!”
