Part 3 (1/2)
”This 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, s.h.i.+va, a totem pole, a snake-headed G.o.d, 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 cl.u.s.tered before it.
”I 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.”
”Ms. Moon's sitting with me was scheduled for tomorrow, but due to her dire need, I have moved it up to tonight. In grat.i.tude, 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.
”I will answer her question and yours in the form of a billet reading,” Ifasen said. ”My brother Kehinde is pa.s.sing 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.
”May I ask a question?” Gia said, raising her hand like a schoolgirl.
”Of course.”
”Why 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 in the form of hints and feelings. To open the clearest channel, I need to empty my mind. If I'm thinking about the question, I'll muddy the waters with my own opinions and prejudices. But if I don't know the question, then my own thoughts can't get in the way. What comes through then is pure Spirit Truth.”
”Smooth,” Jack whispered. ”Silky smooth.”
Jack scribbled How is my sister How is my sister? on his card and showed it to Gia.
”Is that fair?” she said.
”It's something I'd like to know.”
Before he folded the card he tore a piece off the top left corner. As he slipped it inside the envelope he glanced at Gia and saw her sealing hers.
”What did you ask?”
She smiled. ”That's between me and Ogunfiditimi.”
He was about to press her when a soft musical chime filtered through the room. He looked up and saw Ifasen holding what appeared to be a large bowl of beaten bra.s.s on the tips of his fingers.
”This is a ceremonial bell from a temple deep in the jungles of Thailand. It is said that if properly mounted it will ring an entire day from a single stroke.” He flicked a fingernail against the s.h.i.+ny surface and again the soft chime sounded. ”But tonight we will be using it as a bowl to collect your billets.”
He handed the bell to Kehinde who pa.s.sed among them, collecting the envelopes. Jack kept an eye on him, watching closely as the younger brother placed the bell behind the base of the podium. He fiddled with something out of sight, then shook out a white cloth. The bell reappeared, covered with the cloth, and was handed up to Ifasen.
Jack leaned back, nodding. Gotcha Gotcha.
Kehinde walked off and the lighting changed, the room growing dark while an overhead spot brightened, leaving Ifasen towering above them, bathed in a glow from heaven. He whipped off the white cloth and stared down into the bowl. After a moment he reached in and removed an envelope. He held it before him.
”I have the first question,” he intoned. He lowered his head and raised the envelope on high where it gleamed like a star in the brilliant light. ”Ogunfiditimi, hear me. These supplicants come before me, seeking knowledge, knowledge that only you can provide. Heed their requests and furnish the answers they seek.”
He shuddered once, twice, then spoke in a flat, sepulchral tone.
”You are not yet ready. You must work harder, hone your craft, and above all, be patient. It will come.”
Ifasen looked up and blinked. He lowered the envelope and picked up a slim gold-plated letter opener. He slit the top of the envelope and pulled the card from within. He unfolded it and, to Jack's chagrin, held it by the upper left corner. After reading it he smiled down at Karyn. ”Does that answer your question, Karyn?”
She nodded enthusiastically.
Clause said, ”What did you ask?”
”I wanted to know when I'll be as successful as Junie.”
Junie turned to her. ”Didn't I tell you? Isn't he just so amazing?”
”How does he do that?” Gia whispered.
”Later.”
Knowing pretty much how the rest of the act would go, Jack pulled out a folded pamphlet he'd picked up downstairs. The cover read THE MENELAUS MANOR RESTORATION FOUNDATION over a grainy picture of this old stone house. So that was where the donations went.
He opened the yellow tri-fold brochure and out fell another, smaller pamphlet, almost the size of the three-by-five billet he'd just filled out. The cover showed a crude ill.u.s.tration of a human silhouette falling into a pit next to the t.i.tle, ”The Trap.” He flipped it over and almost laughed aloud when he saw the words ”Chick Publications.” A Born Again mini-comic. The. opening pages showed a Christian character debunking a self-described channeler.
Some prankster was slipping Jack Chick's fundamentalist tracts into Ifasen's brochures. How rich.
Jack checked Ifasen, who had a fresh envelope held on high, but this time he skipped the incantation. Maybe he was in a hurry. He shook his head as if trying to clear it, scrinched up his eyes, then shook his head again. Finally he lowered the envelope and cast a disapproving look at Claude.
”The spirits refuse to answer this. They want me to tell you to buy a calculator.”
He slit the envelope and unfolded the card-again holding it by the upper left corner. He read: ” 'What is the square root of 2,762?' ” He frowned at Claude, his disdain palpable. ”What did I say about frivolous questions that waste the spirits' time?”
Claude grinned. ”It's a question that's plagued me for years.”
Junie gave him a fierce look and slapped him on the knee. Jack decided he liked Claude.
He put aside the Chick pamphlet and was starting to read Ifasen's propaganda on this house and its history when Gia nudged him.
”Pay attention. You might be next.”
Jack refolded the brochure and trained his attention on Ifasen who had raised another envelope. He gave a couple of shudders, then, ”Your sister sends you her love from the Other Side. She says she is well and to get on with your life.”
Jack couldn't help feeling a chill. He knew the game, knew Ifasen was winging it here, but this was exactly what Kate would say.