Betrayal - Fern Michaels [125]
Hearing the alarm in Toots’s voice jolted Sophie back to reality, or as much as one could, given her current circumstances. “I’m fine. Listen.” She leveled her gaze at the door leading to the kitchen.
The high-pitched garble in the room thundered in their ears, sounding like thousands of hoofbeats pounding against the earth. Straining to discern a male voice in the earsplitting loudness, Sophie cleared her throat before she spoke. “If you wish to make yourself known, do so or leave this room!”
In the blink of an eye, the room temperature dropped at least twenty degrees. Shivering with fear yet wanting to clarify what she’d thought was a voice from the past, Sophie drew her strength from Toots, who’d placed her hand on top of hers. Sort of like their secret handshake.
The anomalies began to disappear one by one, until there was only a handful of the translucent balls of light hovering several feet off the floor. After several seconds, the voices stopped, and the only sounds in the room were coming from the women themselves, their quickened breaths, in and out.
One by one, the orbs of light began to take on form. Each vaporous cloud became distinguishable by its gender, its clothing, and, lastly, for some of them, a face of sorts.
Before she totally lost her cool, Sophie counted the spirits. Thirteen in all. That had to be a bad omen. Clearing her throat again, Sophie spoke to the ghostly apparitions floating above the table.
“Identify yourselves!” she commanded with more power than she felt. The only female, or what Sophie designated as a female, swirled below the others. The misty image wore a flowered-print housedress with a V neckline. Several tissues leaked from her large bosom. Long wisps of white hair touched the flounce of her outdated dress.
“Oh my God,” Toots said. “It’s . . . Mrs. Patterson? But . . . how? She’s not . . .”
Sophie careened around so fast, her neck popped again. She’d be in a body cast if this kept up.
The old woman, void of the dentures she wore in life, smacked her waxen lips together. “Dead?” A cold mist passed through her lips when she spoke. “Then where’s Snuffy? Is she dead, too?” The old woman looked at Toots as if she knew the answer to her question.
Scooting their chairs across the hardwood floor, the four gathered closely around one another as quickly as possible.
In a raspy voice, Toots demanded, “Is this for real? If I remember correctly, Snuffy was Mrs. Patterson’s cat.”
Sophie nodded, asking, “Who the hell is Mrs. Patterson?”
“My neighbor in Charleston, but I’m not sure she’s actually dead,” Toots whispered.
Ida and Mavis hovered side by side, hands gripping one another. Sophie and Toots examined the hazy, mistlike woman levitating just above the table. She didn’t appear to have any legs. The male entities continued to linger a few feet above and behind the single female.
As suddenly as she had appeared, the ghost of Mrs. Patterson disappeared. In her place, one of the male ghosts zoomed over so quickly, Sophie wasn’t sure if what she thought she saw was actually happening. At least she wasn’t until she saw Ida’s features change from astonishment to total and absolute fear. Ida’s lips moved, but there was no sound. She shook her head, and her lips kept moving, but she remained completely speechless.
The male spirit bobbed above the table. His features were nebulous, yet his clothes were clearly outlined while still being transparent. Dark slacks and a fitted suit jacket shimmered against the flickering light from the candles.
“It’s . . . Thomas!” Ida placed a hand over her heart, as though she were in pain.
Sophie responded succinctly and without fear. She stared at the creepy form of matter that had captured Ida’s attention. “Now’s your chance to ask him exactly where he bought that tainted meat.”
Just as one would expect, Ida took a deep breath and proceeded to slither out of her chair, landing in a dead faint.
The spirit began to twirl, becoming cylindrical