The Medium (Chapter 3, page 2 of 22)


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I heard Celia's voice and listened for another but no one else spoke. Perhaps I'd imagined the knocking and she was simply reciting poetry in the kitchen.

But that was as absurd as it sounded. Celia regarded poetry as a useless form of literature read only by deluded romantics.

Then I heard footsteps running up the stairs. Only one set. "Emily! Emily, are you decent?" Celia shouted. "I think he's here."

"She means me," came Jacob's voice from just outside my bedroom door.

Jacob! Good lord, I was still in my nightgown! What was he doing here so early? It couldn't be much past eight o'clock. What was he doing here at all when we'd agreed nothing could be done until the following day?

"She'll be out in a few minutes," I heard Celia say in a loud voice. The door opened a crack and she slipped inside. She was dressed but her hair looked like it had been hastily shoved under her cap. "My sister is not yet ready to receive callers," she said as she shut the door.

I heard Jacob's chuckle and I pictured his handsome features softening with his smile. "It's nice to know the rules of propriety still apply to the dead," he called out.

Celia leaned against the door as if barricading it. "He hasn't zapped his way in here, has he?"

"No. Help me dress," I said, climbing out of bed. "How did you know it was him?"

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