Page 9 of Guarded By the Gargoyle

I didn’t have far to lead him—Pop-pop had set up a “Spirit Room” on the far side of the shop. Really, it was just a large janitor’s closet which he had converted, but it served its purpose well.

I opened the door and parted the strands of long red beads that served as a curtain. The beads clacked gently against each other as I ducked through them into the tiny room.

Inside there was a small, round table with two chairs sitting across from each other. There were also a few shelves where Pop-pop had placed some props—a real human skull someone had gotten from one of the many above-ground cemeteries in our area, a crystal ball on a golden stand, a set of fancy Tarot Cards with elaborate pictures fanned out to display their gorgeous artwork, and various other mystical looking things.

Pop-pop had never used any of these props—I knew because I had spied on him “communing with the spirits” more than once when I was little. Mostly he just sat at the table, closed his eyes, and spread his arms. Then he called for the spirit of the dear departed. When it came, he allowed it to “Indwell” him, ashe called it. Then he spoke in the dead person’s voice, telling their loved one who had paid to hear from them what they were thinking and feeling.

Pop-pop really had his act down to a T, too. I remembered how creepy I used to think it was when his eyes would roll up in his head and his voice would change. It would go all high if he was letting a female spirit “Indwell” him and low and rough if he was channeling a male. It was a weird business, but it brought in a good amount of money.

Come to think of it, that was probably how Pop-pop had managed to keep the shop solvent all those years. Especially if Big Nicky Valentino had been giving him a ton of cash annually just to talk to his dead mother.

Pop-pop, I really wish you would have told me about this yearly appointment,I thought, as I switched on the small lamp with the red shade in the middle of the table and lit a stick of incense. If my Grandfather was going to have me follow his footsteps in the family “business,” the least he could have done was to warn me about it—and maybe leave me some details about Nicky Valentino’s mother so I could effectively impersonate her.

Still, it looked like I was stuck winging it. I just hoped I could do a good enough job to satisfy the Mob boss who was settling in the chair across from me.

“I just want to tell you I’ve never done this before,” I said to him, trying to manage his expectations. “I saw my Grandfather do it often, butI’venever done it personally.”

“Yes, Giovanni said you might say something to that effect,” Big Nicky murmured. “But he assured me that when you opened yourself, the Power would come. I’m prepared to be patient—as long as you deliverresults.”

Well, so much for managing his expectations. I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat and nodded.

“Very well, let us begin. The spirits are waiting to speak to us,” I said, because that was what Pop-pop had always said at the start of a Channeling session. “Tell me the name of your dearly departed and I will attempt to open a door into the next world.”

“My Mother’s name was Myra,” Big Nicky said. “Myra Valentino, may her soul rest in peace.”

“May her soul rest in peace,” I repeated, nodding. I took a deep breath, trying to center my mind and let the atmosphere of the small room work on me. The red lamp shade over the dim light bulb cast the small space into crimson shadows and the sweet and spicy scent of the incense filled my nose. I tried to remember everything my Grandfather had done in one of these sessions—I had to emulate him as exactly as I could.

Closing my eyes, I extended my arms, palms up. And then, familiar words rose to my lips.

“I call upon the Other Place

Another Time…

Another Space…

I call a Door to open Here

To bring the soul I call for Near

I call?—”

There was more to the incantation, but I didn’t say it—because suddenly I felt a cold, damp wind blowing right in my face. It was so strong, it was blowing my hair back—it felt kind of like when you go to the beach and the wind is blowing off the ocean.

I gasped and opened my eyes. Hovering right in front of me—just above Nicky Valentino’s salt and pepper hair—was an actual door. Or at least a doorway. I couldn’t really see the door itself—I could only see the rectangular space where it had opened.

It seemed to be a space filled with fog—gray tendrils of it were creeping out around the edges and I kept seeing flashes of faces and eyes through the mist.

“Oh…wow!”I whispered in awe, forgetting that I was supposed to be a mysterious Medium. I had never seen anything like this in my life. Was I really looking through a doorway into the Other Side? Did Iactuallyhave The Power?

I tried to take stock of myself to see if I felt any different—there was a kind of energy humming through me, like an electrical current. It didn’t hurt but it was definitely there—as though I had plugged myself in to some huge, invisible generator or battery. It made me feel buzzy and lightheaded and slightly high.

“What? What is it?” Big Nicky looked up to where I was staring, but he clearly didn’t see anything. “What do you see?” he demanded.

“A doorway,” I said, still staring into the mists. “It’s filled with some kind of fog…fog and faces. But I can’t quite tell what any of them looks like.”

“Look harder!” he urged. “Call for her—your Grandfather always called.”

“Myra,” I called, searching the shifting faces in the fog. “Myra Valentino, your son wants to speak to you. Myra, where are you?”

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