“My God,” Mr. Sharpe said beside her.

No! Sarah wanted to scream, but she could form no words. Her throat seemed paralyzed. Tears flooded her eyes. This was too cruel! Too horrible to bear!

Someone was sobbing. “Maggie!” the sobbing voice choked.

“Stop it!” Sarah said and tried to break free, but Mrs. Gittings’s fingers tightened on her wrist, refusing to let go, and when Sarah released Mr. Sharpe’s wrist, he grabbed hers in a bruising grip.

The baby’s cry stopped abruptly.

“She is too angry,” Yellow Feather’s deep voice proclaimed solemnly. “She can’t forgive you.”

“Sarah,” her mother’s voice pleaded. “She’ll talk to you!”

“No!” Sarah felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. She wouldn’t let herself be drawn into this nightmare.

“Please,” her mother begged. “She’ll talk to you. Tell her, Sarah. Tell her I’m sorry!”

“Sarah doesn’t believe,” Yellow Feather said sadly.

“Yes, she does!” Mrs. Decker insisted wildly. Sarah could hardly believe it was her mother’s voice. “Sarah, tell him! Tell him you believe! Talk to Maggie for me. Tell her!”

Mrs. Gittings shook Sarah’s arm. “Tell her!” she commanded.

“For God’s sake, tell her!” Cunningham’s voice begged.

Sarah’s mouth was so dry, she could hardly force her tongue to work. “Mag… Maggie?” she tried, hating herself, hating all of them.

Yellow Feather moaned.

“Maggie, they…”

Yellow Feather moaned more loudly, as if his heart were bursting in his chest.

Sarah tried to swallow and then forced the words past her reluctant lips. “They didn’t mean to hurt you!”

Yellow Feather’s voice exploded in a piercing shriek that froze Sarah’s blood in her veins and then someone else screamed.

“Madame Serafina!” Mrs. Burke cried. “She’s fainted!”

MRS. GITTINGS AND MR. SHARPE RELEASED SARAH’S wrists, and she jumped to her feet, not really certain what to do next but knowing that she must do something. Someone had managed to find the door in the dark and opened it, letting in enough light to see that Madame Serafina had slid out of her chair and fallen to the floor in a heap. Sarah’s mother seemed to be fine. She was still in her chair, staring down at Madame Serafina in alarm.

“Professor!” Mrs. Gittings was calling out into the hall. She was the one who had found the door. “Madame fainted!”

The man ran into the room. “Don’t touch her!” he commanded. “Is there any ectoplasm?”

“No,” someone said.

“We didn’t see any,” someone else confirmed.

He knelt down on one knee, pulled the stopper from the small bottle he carried, and passed it under Madame’s nose. Sarah could smell it from here. Smelling salts. Madame stirred, instinctively recoiling from the harsh odor.

“Madame, are you all right?” he asked.

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing those magnificent eyes. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Mrs. Burke said, wringing her hands nervously.

“She did it,” Cunningham said angrily, pointing at Sarah. “It’s all her fault. She doesn’t believe!”

Sarah resisted the absurd impulse to apologize. She’d done nothing wrong.

“You were the one who told Yellow Feather not to mind her,” Mrs. Gittings reminded him fiercely. “Madame, are you all right?”

The Professor was helping her sit up. She looked dazed, her eyes not really focusing. “I think so.” She looked at Cunningham with concern. “Was it your father?”

“No! He didn’t even speak to me,” Cunningham reported indignantly. “It’s all her fault.” He glared at Sarah again.

“Can you try again?” Mrs. Decker asked to Sarah’s surprise. “My daughter… I need to speak to her.”

Madame Serafina looked at Mrs. Decker, studying her face as if trying to look into her soul. “Did Yellow Feather contact her?”

“Yes, she was there,” Mrs. Decker said with a certainty that pricked Sarah’s heart. “Don’t you remember?”

Madame smiled sadly. “I never remember anything that happens when Yellow Feather is speaking through me. But perhaps I can summon him again.” She took the Professor’s arm and let him help her to her feet, but as soon as he released her, she swayed dangerously.

He caught her and lowered her into the chair she’d occupied previously. “She can’t possibly do another session now,” he said. “It would be far too dangerous. Can’t you see how weak she is?”

She did look weak, which was just fine with Sarah. She had to get her mother out of there.

“I’m very sorry if I caused any trouble,” Sarah said just the way she had been taught to as a child-say you’re sorry even if you don’t mean it.

Madame looked up at her in surprise, her dark eyes unreadable. “You still don’t believe?” she asked in amazement.

Sarah didn’t want to lie, and she didn’t think she needed to. Madame seemed to already know the answer. “Mother, we should go so Madame Serafina can rest.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” her mother said, suddenly remembering her manners. She rose from her chair, and Sarah was alarmed to see that she also looked a bit unsteady. Mr. Sharpe solicitously took her arm, but she didn’t even notice. She was looking at Madame Serafina. “Thank you so much. I’m very grateful.”

“I hope I was able to help,” Madame said with apparent sincerity.

Sarah pushed past Mr. Sharpe and took her mother’s other arm. “Let’s go now,” she said, and her mother followed her meekly out into the hallway, leaving Sharpe and the others behind. They could hear Cunningham complaining again that his father hadn’t even spoken to him.

“Are you all right, Mother?” Sarah asked.

“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Decker said with a degree of wonder. “I’ve never had an experience like that before. It was extraordinary.”

“Yes, it was,” Sarah readily agreed. Extraordinary was one way to describe it.

The Professor had followed them out and hurried to open the door for them. “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Decker. I hope you were satisfied with the sitting.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said vaguely.

“You are welcome to return at any time,” he said. Sarah noted that he did not include her in the invitation.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Decker said as Sarah maneuvered her out the door.

They paused on the front steps. Sarah was almost surprised to see that the world had gone on its ordinary way all the time they’d been conversing with the dead. She would not have been surprised to see that the sky had turned green or something. But the sights and sounds of the city were exactly the same as they’d been an hour ago when they’d entered this strange house.

Sarah looked up and down the street and saw the Decker carriage where the driver had found a spot to pull over. She waved and caught his eye. He quickly slapped the horses into motion and deftly maneuvered the carriage out into the street and up to where they waited.

Although the task took only a few minutes, the wait seemed like hours as Sarah kept checking to make sure her mother was all right. She was still rather pale, and she hadn’t said a single word since they’d left the house. She also hadn’t looked at Sarah even once.

When the carriage reached them, the driver stopped and jumped down to assist them. Only when they were safely inside and the vehicle was moving did Sarah break the silence. “Are you going to be all right, Mother?”

She looked at Sarah in surprise, as if she’d forgotten she was there. “Of course I am,” she replied with some annoyance. “Stop asking me that.” She looked away again, out the window, although Sarah was sure she wasn’t seeing anything. “I didn’t believe it was possible. Not really, I mean. I didn’t believe she could really speak to the dead.”

“Mother-” Sarah tried, but her mother was having none of it.

“I know you don’t believe, but how else can you explain it? She knew about Maggie’s baby.”