The Haunted Air Read Online Free Page B

truth, and that bothered him. When your house starts to shake, rattle, and roll, it could be a lot of things, but bomb should not be first on your guess list.
    Unless you were expecting one.
    â€œAnd where’s Charlie?”
    Ifasen stiffened. “Who?”
    â€œI heard you calling for someone named Charlie while we were evacuating.”
    â€œYou must have misheard me, sir. I was calling for my brother Kehinde.”
    Jack turned to Gia. “Let’s split. I don’t think this is a good idea.”
    Before Gia could answer, Ifasen said, “Please. There’s nothing to fear. Really.”
    â€œLet’s do it, Jack.” She glanced at Ifasen. “It’ll take us, what—half an hour?”
    â€œAt most.” Ifasen smiled. “As I said, I need my rest.”
    Half an hour, Jack thought. Okay. What could happen in half an hour?

2
    â€œThis is my channeling room,” Ifasen said with a sweeping gesture.
    Impressive, Jack thought as he looked around.
    Ifasen had decked out the high-ceilinged first-floor room with a wide array of spiritualist and New Age paraphernalia along with some unique touches. Most striking were the host of statues—some looked like the real deal—from churches and Indian temples and Mayan pyramids: Mary, Saint Joseph, Kali, Shiva, a totem pole, a snake-headed god, cathedral gargoyles, and a ten-foot stone Ganesha holding a gold scepter in his coiled elephant trunk. Drapes covered the windows. The oak-paneled walls were festooned with paintings of spiritualist icons. Jack recognized Madame Blatavsky, the Mona Lisa of this Louvre of phonies.
    At the far end of the room sat a round table surrounded by chairs; an ornate, pulpitlike podium upon a two-foot dais dominated the near end; Ifasen took his place behind it while Jack, Gia, Junie, Karyn, and Claude seated themselves among the chairs clustered before it.
    â€œI am Ifasen,” he said, “and I have been blessed with a gift that allows me to communicate with the spirit world. I cannot speak directly with the dead, but with the aid of Ogunfiditimi, an ancient Nigerian wise man who has been my spirit guide since I was a child, I can bring revelations and messages of peace and hope to our world from the place beyond.
    â€œMs. Moon’s sitting with me was scheduled for tomorrow, but due to her dire need, I have moved it up to tonight. In gratitude, she has made a generous donation to the Menelaus
Manor Foundation on behalf of you, her friends, to allow you to become part of her sitting.”
    Karyn and Claude clapped; Junie, alone in the front row, turned and waved.
    â€œI will answer her question and yours in the form of a billet reading,” Ifasen said. “My brother Kehinde is passing among you with billets, envelopes, and pens.”
    The billets turned out to be index cards. Jack took a couple from Kehinde for Gia and himself. He knew this game but decided to play along.
    Ifasen said, “Please write your question on the billet, sign it, fold it, and seal it in the envelope. I will then contact Ogunfiditimi and ask him if he can find the answers in the spirit world. This is not a time for prank questions, or schemes to test the spirit world. Do not waste Ogunfiditimi’s time by asking a question to which you already know the answer. And realize this: the mere fact that you have asked a question does not obligate the spirits to answer. They pick and choose. The worthier the question, the more likely it will be answered.”
    Great hedge, Jack thought. The perfect out.
    â€œMay I ask a question?” Gia said, raising her hand like a schoolgirl.
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œWhy do we have to seal the question in an envelope? Why can’t we simply hand you the card and get the answer?”
    Ifasen smiled. “Excellent question. Communication with the spirit world is not like a long-distance call. Words sometimes filter through, but often the communication is