The Spiritist Read online

  The Spiritist

  A Aerilyn Mathew Novel

  Book 1

  by

  Sabine A. Reed

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Spiritist

  Copyright © 2014 by Sabine A. Reed

  All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.

  The Spiritist

  Aerilyn Mathews is a staid and beautiful businesswoman who manages a successful shop in the heart of a picturesque beach town. She has numerous friends, is well-liked and loves exchanging town gossip over a cup of coffee. Of course, given her winning personality, her neighbors tend to ignore the fact that she is a spiritist who can talk to the dead. When she is contacted by Joan who wants to talk to her dead son, Aerilyn finds it hard to turn her down.

  What she doesn’t know is that this simple request would turn her well-planned life upside down.

  Cole Hudson, the CEO of Hudson Security, finds himself intrigued by this charlatan who has ensnared Joan with her wicked lies. When Aerilyn alleges that Thomas was murdered and didn’t commit suicide as was ruled by the coroner, he knows he must do everything to stop her fraudulent claims. A murder attempt on Aerilyn, an encounter with an extremely pissed-off ghost, and a look into the underbelly of New York’s drug mafia changes his mind – and how.

  Now, Cole and Aerilyn must work together to uncover the secrets that shadow Thomas’s death – and prevent a hired assassin from putting a bullet in her head.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Aerilyn hopped off the short metal stool as she finished placing the newly-arrived wares on the storeroom shelves. Ginkgo, goldenseal, and chamomile, as well as a number of other special herbs and potions, needed to be replenished. She made a mental note to place an order soon.

  Her midnight black cat, Knight, wound itself around her feet and purred softly. “Oh, no, you fiend. It’s not dinner time yet,” she told him even as she bent to give him a good scratch behind his ears. Angry at being denied a snack, Knight hissed and went to sit on the small daybed she had placed for him in the corner of the store. “Fine. Ignore me. See if I care.”

  After washing her hands in the tiny powder room, Aerilyn strode out of the storeroom into her shop. As opposed to the simple, uncluttered backroom, Witch Central’s brightly lit and decorated murals lent it an air of festivity. Merlin beamed down from the ceiling, a glowing orb held in his hand, while the far wall contained a mural of Circe as she stood in a flowering garden. Shelves placed against the other walls and in the middle of the shop, contained herbs, potted plants, books, stones, and statues, as well as various items that were used in magic rituals.

  “You sold the statue of the wizard?” Aerilyn beamed at her shop assistant Selina, noticing the empty space on one of the shelves. The sale sent a thrill of excitement sliding up her spine; she stood to make a tidy profit on that statue.

  “Tourists,” Selina declared with a happy grin. The contrast between the two women was as stark as day and night. While Aerilyn’s blonde hair curled well past her shoulders, providing a perfect backdrop for her baby blue eyes and smooth, creamy skin, Selina’s straight, black hair barely covered the nape of her neck and her huge, liquid black eyes dominated a heart-shaped face. “A middle-aged couple stopped by. They also bought three packets of cleansing stones and a book on feng shui. They just moved into their new apartment in Boston. The wife has developed a recent interest in feng shui and the kind husband played along, eager to keep her happy. He did love the statue though.”

  Walking over to the shelf, Aerilyn rearranged the remaining statues. “Great job, Selina. Why don’t you go home? I will close the shop.” Aerilyn peered outside the window. The soft evening light had faded to a hue of burnt orange. A barely visible sun breathed its last on the western horizon. Her eyes scanned the street. Oh no! Too late. “Mrs. Becker is headed this way.”

  Selina groaned as she ran a hand through her hair. “I wonder what she wants now.”

  Aerilyn sighed, resisting the urge to slip back inside the storeroom. Tempted as she was, it would not be fair to Selina. Mrs. Becker would hound her until she discovered Aerilyn’s whereabouts. And if she entered the storeroom, as she was apt to do from time to time, it would be nearly impossible to shoo her out. Damn it, she was well and truly trapped!

  “We will know soon enough what she wants,” she said in a resigned tone.

  Mrs. Becker strode inside, a neon-green handbag clutched in her hand. A matching neon-green hat sat on her head. Both items clashed violently with the orange dress that clung to her plump body. At five feet of height, she was at least eight inches shorter than Aerilyn. As soon as she walked in, she raised her head and glared at Aerilyn with fury. “I’ve had it, Aerilyn. I’m tired of your excuses. Are you or are you not a witch?”

  Aerilyn drew herself to her full height; a statuesque five feet eight inches. “I most certainly am, Mrs. Becker.”

  Mrs. Becker shook her finger in front of Aerilyn. “Didn’t I tell you that I want the best, absolutely best, spell you can cast on my neighbor? That rude man is still there, and he stares at me as if I am a batty, loony, madwoman loose on the street every time I sit on my porch. He is driving me crazy.”

  Since half the population of Alby drove Mrs. Becker crazy with one thing or the other, it wasn’t a dire state of affair. “As I told you before, Mrs. Becker, I am unable to cast that spell for you. I am not an earth witch,” said Aerilyn with a patience born out of years of practice.

  “Don’t give me your excuses, Aerilyn. If only your grandmother was here! She would’ve whipped up a spell for me in one day flat.”

  “Since grandmother is an earth witch, she is adept at such spells.” Although she doubted that her grandmother would have concocted such a spell for Mrs. Becker. They were old friends, and Nan had years of experience in managing Imelda Becker’s various idiosyncrasies.

  “And she has spent a lifetime teaching you about herbs and potions, Aerilyn. How complicated can such a spell be? I have a good mind to call your grandmother…”

  That statement left her with no options. “There is no need to trouble Nan about this, Mrs. Becker. I will cast the spell for you,” said Aerilyn hurriedly. Mrs. Becker didn’t deliver empty threats. She would likely call her grandmother and stir up unimaginable trouble. Nan was on a much needed vacation and Aerilyn didn’t want anyone to disturb her. “But it takes time to do these things, especially because you don’t want to make it obvious that you are the one casting him out of the house.”

  Mrs. Becker snorted with satisfaction as she barreled down the aisles. Her head swiveled from side to side, much like a bloodhound, as she took into account the wares on display. “Well, of course I don’t want anyone to know. The last time the people across the street left, the realtor came over and blamed it on my cat. Said they kept wandering in th
e neighbor’s house. My cats?” She bristled. “Now, if one of my pets has ever set a paw across that ramshackle house, I will take off my hat and eat it.” She touched her hat in a threatening gesture.

  Aerilyn put her hand on the old woman’s shoulder. “Now, now, Mrs. Becker, you know you must not get agitated. It is not good for your blood pressure.”

  “Oh, that reminds me, have you prepared the medicine for my blood pressure?” Mrs. Becker leaned against the counter. “And is that a new collection of stones? I don’t recall seeing it last week.”

  “A set of thirteen stones, each one designed to open your chakras and give enlightenment,” said Aerilyn. Knowing the routine, she picked up the set and brought it over for a closer inspection. “But you already have enough of these, Mrs. Becker.”

  Imelda Becker ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the colored stones. Her eyes shone with excitement. “It doesn’t hurt to try a new set, and look how pretty they are. They will look wonderful in that divine blue bowl I bought just a week ago at the local fair. I will take these along with my medicine if it is ready.”

  A picture of brisk efficiency, Selina’s hands moved fast as she packaged the medicines and the stones. She rang up the purchases. “Here you go, Mrs. Becker.”

  She took the bag and glanced over at Selina. “Have you found yourself a boyfriend yet, Selina?”

  “Not yet, Mrs. Becker.”

  “Ask Aerilyn to whip up a love potion for you. Find a nice, young man and make him drink it, and viola, you will be all set. What good is working for a witch if she can’t even brew a love potion? And now, Aerilyn, don’t you forget my spell.”

  “No, Mrs. Becker,” Aerilyn said in a weak voice. She had never learnt to handle Mrs. Becker with the authority and firmness that her grandmother was always admonishing her to use. “I will work on it day and night.”

  Mrs. Becker clutched the green, reusable store bag in her hand along with her handbag, and strode out as quickly as she had come in.

  Selina put her finger on her temple and spun it. “That lady is as nuts as they can get. Mind you, if I had twenty cats at home, I would be a little cuckoo also.”

  “Shh!” said Aerilyn. If the old cougar heard, she would be back and how. “She is just lonely, that’s all. And don’t forget that she is one of our best customers.”

  “What are you going to do about that spell she wants you to conjure on that young man?” Selina picked up her large, black handbag from under the counter. She turned to check her reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall. “He’s a chef, you know that? Works at that new restaurant, Delicious.”

  “Does he now?” Aerilyn twisted a lock of her hair with her fingers, a germ of an idea taking shape in her mind. So what if her grandmother was not around to handle this situation, Aerilyn had a few tricks up her sleeve.

  The bell rang. They both turned to see a middle-aged woman enter the store. She wore a simple, black dress with matching heels. Her hair, streaked with gray, hung limply and she hardly wore any makeup to mask the dark circles etched under her eyes. With one hand, she gripped a black, leather purse and the other clutched a wad of tissues.

  Selina put her handbag back on the counter. “I’ll show her around.”

  “No, I think that’s my private client. Joan?” She stepped towards the woman.

  “Yes. I’m here to see the spiritist.”

  Aerilyn turned the sign on the door, closing the shop. “Please come in. Selina, why don’t you go on home? I will lock up later.”

  “Sure.” Selina walked out. “Bye, Knight,” she called out before leaving.

  As if on cue, Knight strolled out of the storeroom. Seeing the stranger, he stopped, and moved the tip of his tail up and down.

  Joan’s gaze shifted from the cat to Aerilyn. “You’re the spiritist?” Joan hovered at the entrance of the shop, looking undecided.

  Aerilyn smiled. “I most certainly am. Please come inside.” She led her towards the other room, the one where she took the clients who came in to see her as a spiritist. Generally, she didn’t entertain too many clients but Joan had approached her through references, and she had been so insistent that Aerilyn give her an appointment.

  It wasn’t her persistence as much as the grief that echoed in her voice that convinced Aerilyn to schedule the séance. Joan’s son died two months before, and she wanted to contact his spirit. As a spiritist, she was duty bound to not turn her down. If she said no, no one else would be able to help this woman. How could she deny a grief-stricken mother a chance to seek closure?

  After seating Joan, Aerilyn lit all the candles in the room. She switched off the lights and sat opposite Joan. Knight joined them, taking a position under the table where he curled up to witness the séance.

  The soft light of the candles did little to illuminate the room, but she had discovered that the spirits found the absence of bright light comforting.

  “As I told you on the phone, there are no guarantees in this process,” Aerilyn spoke in a gentle voice. Her heart bled for the brokenhearted woman. Lines of fatigue and grief were etched across her face, making her look at least a decade older than her actual age. “You might feel satisfied or entirely dissatisfied at the end of this séance. The only thing I can promise is that I will do my best to talk to your son and to convey your message to him. If he chooses to communicate with me, I will hear his answers and repeat them to you.”

  “That is all I ask,” said Joan. “As I told you on the phone, my son committed suicide two months ago. I don’t know why…he took such a drastic step. He had every reason to live for.”

  After getting a few details from Joan on the phone, Aerilyn had gathered as much information as possible. She never went into a job unprepared. “I read the newspaper reports related to his death to better understand the background,” she assured her client.

  Aerilyn cupped her hands around the rough, green emerald. She didn’t plan to activate the prop today, but its use would help deepen the client’s confidence in the process. In this particular endeavor, faith would play a far more important role than magic. The woman’s faith would draw the spirit to her far more effectively than anything Aerilyn did.

  “Close your eyes,” Aerilyn whispered. Joan obeyed without question.

  Closing her own eyes, Aerilyn muttered incantations as she concentrated the power of her gift on the veil of the underworld. At ease with this part of the process, she imagined it as a thick, gray curtain that rippled and moved. As she watched it with her mind’s eye, the curtain undulated seductively. With each sinewy movement, it became a little thinner, a little less dark, until finally it gave way and a figure stepped through it into the room.

  Aerilyn opened her eyes and gazed at the young man who stood to one side of the round table. He wore a pale blue shirt and beige trousers. His feet were bare. His hair, white blonde and neatly combed, glimmered with flashes of gold under the candlelight. His appearance, a manifestation of his state of mind, indicated that he was at peace.

  And yet, the look on his face was that of profound sadness. He gazed at his mother with a desperate longing and yearning that Aerilyn could barely endure. She breathed in and out, calming her mind for the task up ahead.

  Communicating with the spirit would take a lot of energy, patience and skill. Thomas had died two months before at the age of twenty. What was the loss of one life in the grand scheme of things? But to the woman sitting with her, his life had meant more than anything. It fell upon Aerilyn to find answers to the questions that Joan sought. But she needed to proceed with caution because if asked the wrong question, or if pushed too hard, the spirit would fade away as easily as it had appeared.

  The young man sidled forward. The edges of his body were blurred and grey. The soft yellow light cast by the candles passed through him, and he came in and out of focus, much like a badly shot movie. It took a spirit a great amount of energy to appear and to talk. She didn’t want to waste any time, lest he disappeared.

&nbs
p; “Thomas, your mother wishes to know why you took your own life,” Aerilyn said in a clam, clear voice that remained devoid of any hint of judgment. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

  Thomas raised his hand and slashed at his throat. He then pointed towards his mother and made the same gesture. Aerilyn frowned. She didn’t understand. What did he mean?

  “I didn’t want to die.” The young man mouthed a single sentence.

  “Why did you do it then?” she said, perplexed by his action.

  He shook his head, a look of anguish on his handsome face. His jaw was strong and jutted out, indicating strength of character. But then he had ended his life with his own hands. Why had he done so? Had he hesitated before taking that final step? Or had he been determined right to the end to see it through without any second thought?

  “I was murdered,” he said.

  The shock of the statement nearly caused Aerilyn to disconnect with the spell. She hated surprises; and this certainly qualified as one of the worst she’d ever experienced. Such a devastating revelation couldn’t be ignored.

  And yet, the truth of his statement could not be disputed. Spirits didn’t lie. They told the unvarnished truth. But what if he was playing with words? Sometimes the spirits had trouble understanding the question, and sometimes, for reasons of their own, or according to the rules of the underworld, they couldn’t reveal it all. Sometimes they said one thing and meant another.

  Aerilyn would have to make that determination. Was Thomas confused? Could it be that his statement meant something else? Hope stirred in Aerilyn’s heart. Maybe this situation wasn’t as explosive as she imagined it.

  Please God, she prayed, let this be not what it seems.

  “Who did it to you, Thomas?” she asked, not wishing to use the word murder and alert Joan. The shock alone of such a declaration may break the spell. It was Joan’s grief that held firm the breech to the veil, and if for some reason Joan couldn’t hold it together, Aerilyn would fail in the task.