Page 41 of Thus with a Kiss I Die

The children gasped—I admit to a tremor myself—and Elder said, “That’sa neat trick.”

Princess Isabella asked, “Nonna, are you . . . yourself?”

“Yes, yes, who else would I be?” As she spoke, the light faded, and she was once more a wrinkled woman with white-blind eyes and an impatient expression. “First, let us pray that Jesus, Mary, and all the saints guide and protect us in our undertaking this day, for should the spirits venture forth, we seek only enlightenment, and not a haunting.”

At her closing words, I looked meaningfully at Elder. Who, of course, ignored me. I then closed my eyes, bent my head, and listened to Nonna Ursula’s surprisingly fervent prayer. But not so surprising, really, for everyone believed in ghoulies and ghosties, although few claimed to have met them, and fewer still really had. I was in an exclusive club—the only person I knew who had actually visited with a ghost. I admit to some hope that after the “Amen,” Elder would be gone from me.

He must have read my mind, for he said, “No such luck for you.”

Nonna Ursula firmly tapped on the skull with her knuckles, then indicated Mamma should repeat.

Mamma knocked. Imogene knocked. Then—reluctantly—Katherina, Princess Isabella, and I.

Each strike on the hollow bone sounded startling in its suddenness, contributing to the eerie ambience.

“Yorick has now summoned the ghosts. You”—Nonna Ursula pointed a crooked finger at Imogene—“blow out all but one candle.”

Imogene blew, and left the candle in the middle burning. As the sunset turned to purple dusk, the circle of light around us drew in like a warning, and the empty spaces where Yorick’s eyes and nose had once been seemed to come alive.

I could hear humming in my ears; it was the sound of my listening.

“My mother is good at this,” Elder observed. “Even I’m spooked.”

I shot him a glare. I was not amused.

“Let us hold hands so none of us wander alone.” Nonna Ursula offered one hand to Imogene. “Are you frightened?”

“A little. Mostly, I want to see my Zuann!” Imogene offered her hand to Princess Isabella, and they entwined fingers.

“Your Zuann?” In bewilderment, Nonna Ursula turned to Mamma.

As Mamma took Princess Isabella’s fingers and then Katherina’s, a smile played around her mouth. “Zuann is her dog. He died last year after a good long life.”

“Then your Zuann is at peace and we mustn’t disturb his slumber,” Nonna Ursula advised Imogene.

Imogene sighed. “Mamma said you’d say that.”

Nonna Ursula continued, “We seek to speak to the spirits who wish to give guidance about their untimely deaths.”

“The palace should be full of those.” Princess Isabella glanced over her shoulder.

“We won’t call them all,” Nonna Ursula answered. “Only the ones who witnessed the death of my son, your father.”

“Why doesn’t Rosie ask him who killed him?” Imogene suggested.

Elder cackled a laugh.

Everyone jumped as if they’d heard him, and jumped again when Katherina grabbed my hand as if it was driftwood bobbing in the Adige River. The completed circle of touch seemed to send a spark through us that forged us into one.

“Imogene, why would Rosie be able to inquire of our murdered prince on any matter?” Mamma asked.

“You gave Rosie the name of your friend and his love, Princess Eleanor, so Rosie’s connected to them both.” Imogene explained it as if everyone should know.

“Hm.” Elder hovered behind his mother, and mused, “As good an explanation as any. Does your sister have the Sight?”

“Yes, but we don’t speak of it.” Then I cursed myself, for looking at him, answering him out loud. He was so . . . there.

Imogene added, “Also, Mamma, if she’s not, then she’s gone mad, for she sees things that aren’t there and replies to questions we don’t hear.”