Necromancy for the Greater Good

that the paranormal and supernatural can be frightening, and there is comfort in groups, but so many people may make it difficult to contact the spirits.”

  At this point, the band was thinking that Crow Jinx was a complete fraud.

  “Well, you know, the more the merrier,” Dave said.

  “Whom do you wish to contact?”

  “Aren't you supposed to know that, being psychic and all?” he asked, managing not to sound condescending in anyway.

  She smiled coldly. “I am a medium, not a mind-reader. Not to dwell on trivial material matters, but the fees were posted outside and the clock started when you entered the room.”

  “Oh, right, it's my half-hour so I'd better hurry it up,” Dave said amiably.

  “If you wish to phrase it as such,” she said.

  “Ok, then see if you can contact my grandpa Charlie.”

  She pushed the crystal ball to the center of the table. “Please place your hands upon the gazing stone,” she said.

  Dave did so.

  She appeared to take up a meditative position while he had his hands on the crystal ball.

  “Shouldn't she be using the 'gazing stone?'” Leah whispered.

  “If she's a con, I'd say definitely,” Isabella answered. “But she didn't ask any questions, either.”

  Crow Jinx cleared her throat loudly. “I need silence in order to hear the spirits,” she said pointedly, but did not look up. She started to mutter but no one could quite catch the words.

  To the band's surprise, they could see spirit energy start to gather in the crystal ball and around the medium. In a few minutes, the pale, etheric shreds coalesced into the translucent shape of a young man wearing an old-fashioned Army uniform. The ghost was not very well formed; it was difficult to see his features although he did appear to be wearing old-fashioned coke-bottle glasses, showing that near-sightedness was a family trait.

  “What is all this then?” the spirit said irritably.

  “Oh, wow,” Isabella said, as a cue to the others to let them know they should see the spirit without the spell.

  “Is this not your grandfather Charlie?” Crow Jinx asked mildly.

  “Hey, Grandpa, it's me, Dave,” Dave said.

  “Dave? Hells bells boy you've done grown up. And four girlfriends? That's my grandson,” the ghost said proudly.

  “Yep, that's Grandpa Charlie alright,” he agreed.

  “I like the redhead. She's a pretty little thing, even with the glasses.”

  “Hey, my eyes are up here,” Maryann snapped. “Aren't you supposed to be an officer and a gentleman?”

  He sort of shrugged. “Well, I wasn't much of a gentleman when I was alive, and I got less reason to be now that I'm dead. So, what in tarnation am I doing here? I was somewhere else a minute ago, I'm sure of it. Hey, who's the sweet young thing in the bad Halloween costume?” the ghost asked, looking at Crow Jinx, who did not seem to appreciate the comment.

  Leah couldn't stifle a giggle.

  “If your grandmother is still alive, perhaps your grandfather would like to hear how she's doing?” Crow Jinx asked stiffly, glaring at Leah.

  “Sure, sure, how is Betty these days?” the ghost asked.

  “Old,” Dave replied.

  The ghost laughed. “I knew that woman was going to outlive me. I had no idea how long though.”

  “Aren't you going to ask if your grandfather misses your grandmother?” Crow Jinx asked.

  “It's my money; I'll ask Grandpa what I want to ask,” Dave retorted.

  She smiled coldly.

  “So, you never did finish the story about that time you stole a jeep and tried to drive to Paris.”

  The ghost laughed. “Oh, that was a good one too. I don't think my CO ever forgave me, and Alvin never did either. He even married that girl! It all started at the Officer's Club...”

  While the ghost told his story, the band watched Crow Jinx. As far as they could tell, she was remaining perfectly still in a meditative position. With the spirit sight, they knew she had cast the spell, and assumed the crystal ball was some sort of focusing agent, which is why the questioner had to be the one to touch it, not her. In short, she was working real spirit magic and was not a con-artist.

  The ghost finished his story and was laughing. “...So, there you go. One stolen jeep, one night in Paris, and one really bad hangover.”

  Dave looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and the band, who had heard enough of the story, were aghast.

  “Wow, Grandpa, that's really something,” Dave said. He looked at his watch. “Listen, Grandpa, I don't have enough money to keep going with this.”

  “That's fine by me. I feel like I really ought to be somewhere else right now. In which case, young lady,” he said, addressing Crow Jinx, “it is very rude to pull us from our final resting place. I think you should stop with these shenanigans and look for a new job. Also, if you have this kind of gift, for shame charging money. I don't want to leave my final rest very often, but I certainly wouldn't want my Betty to pay her meager savings to you just to get another chance to say good-bye to me. For shame.”

  “It is time for the spirits to return,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “It was nice talking to you again, Grandpa,” Dave said.

  “Good to talk to you too, boy, but don't be asking for me again. You got all the time in the world to be dead. You don't got much time at all to be alive, and you should live out every moment to the fullest, not talking to your old dead grandpa.”

  “Ok, Grandpa.”

  “Good-bye, David,” he said.

  Crow Jinx moved her hands and the spell was broken. “I hope your séance was satisfactory?”

  “Sure.”

  “You may take your hands off the gazing stone now,” she said.

  He moved his hands. “Oh, sorry.”

  “Cash or credit, please,” she said, pulling a small credit card reading out from underneath one of the drapes.

  Isabella handed over a card.

  Crow Jinx ran it through and then handed all five of them one of her cards. “Shall I make another appointment for you, Mr. Rafel?”

  “What? No. You heard Grandpa Charlie. It sounds like he wants to just be left alone. I respect that.”

  “And you have no other relatives you would like to speak to?”

  “Yeah, but I don't want to disturb their final rest like I did Grandpa Charlie, so thanks but no thanks.”

  She sort of frowned. “Ladies, would you like to make an appointment?”

  “We'll, er, think about it,” Maryann said.

  “Yeah, we'll think about it,” Isabella replied.

  “Very well. But such psychic efforts take a tremendous amount of energy, and it is best if I can set aside time and resources. My schedule fills up quickly.”

  Dave stood up and they moved toward the door.

  “We'll think about it,” Isabella said more firmly, and they exited the small, stuffy room and quickly made their way back to the beach house.

  That afternoon they were all on the deck again, including Dave, who was wearing swim trunks but the same black shirt and was sharing the large umbrella with Maryann and Isabella.

  “Well, she's for real,” Leah said.

  “Your grandfather is quite something,” Maryann said. “Do you remember him being like that?”

  “Well, honestly, I do remember my parents telling him not to tell me stuff, but I'm sort of surprised he just told me outright he spent a night in a French brothel after getting engaged to my grandmother. Maybe when you're dead you don't have any tact,” he answered. “Isabella?”

  “The dead do tend to lack the social filters we have,” she confirmed. “My grandmother Ami told me it was because from their perspective, there was no reason to be tactful. Tact is to spare the feelings of others, and the dead don't have the same feelings as the living. Either they don't understand empathy anymore, or they don't see any
reason for even the smallest lie. After all, no matter what you do, for good or bad, everyone ends up dead in the end. She said death is the great equalizer that way.”

  “I knew there was a reason I never wanted you to contact my dead relatives,” Leah said. “Who needs to hear that their beloved grandfather was a womanizing thief instead of a war hero? No offense, Dave.”

  “Hey, I said I was only sort of surprised he told me about the French prostitute.”

  “That's some family you have there.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You know, other parts of the world don't have the same view of death as the Western world,” Isabella said. “Ancestor worship is very popular in many religions. Death is not always seen as bad thing.”

  “I love the Day of the Dead,” Leah said.

  “Yeah, that's all well and good if that's your culture, but it's a hell of thing to those of us who aren't used to it, which is, well, most of us,” Nora replied.

  “So if she's real, that means she's not a con-artist?” Maryann asked.

  “It doesn't mean she's not running a con,” Nora snapped. “She was trying to get Dave to make another appointment. Maybe she's not blackmailing any of those people at all. Maybe they just don't have the ready cash to pay her fees. And maybe they're not as sensible as Dave and his grandpa and just won't leave the dead alone.”

  “Wow, Nora, you seem really upset,” Maryann replied.

  She sighed. “My Uncle Jesse died when I was ten. I don't really remember him too much. I only saw him at the big family gatherings, you know, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's, and Easter. Sometimes anniversaries and birthdays. He was cool. He always brought presents, even if it wasn't a gift-giving holiday. He'd take me and Sharon