Read Online Gifted: Finders Keepers by Marilyn Kaye - Free Book Online
Authors: Marilyn Kaye
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eyes.
Nobody else had noticed. Their eyes were still closed, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d been watching her. This had happened before and no one had been aware, except her.
Actually, there was one other person whose eyes were open. The person who looked like Amanda. Who wasn’t even really a person, just some sort of automatic fake-Amanda, programmed to act like her. Flesh and blood, but more like a robot than a human being.
‘Your mother has to go now, Margaret,’ the medium said. ‘But she’ll come back another time to talk to you again. Do you have anything to say before she leaves?’
There was a silence. It took Amanda a few seconds before she realized she had to respond for Margaret.
‘Uh . . . bye.’
‘She is gone,’ Cassandra said.‘And I’m afraid there are no other spirits waiting to speak with us tonight. But do not despair. This is just the beginning. The spirits have been called, and they will respond. We will meet again on Monday evening.’
Amanda-Margaret rose quickly. She had to let Ken know what had happened to her. But that woman Dahlia clamped a hand on her arm.
‘You poor dear, I feel so sorry for you. Why don’t we go out and have a nice cocktail together?’
‘Sorry, no – I can’t,’Amanda said, pulling free with some effort. She turned – and saw Ken with Other-Amanda, walking out the door. She took off after them, and ran out of the apartment . . . only to see the lift doors closing behind them. Frantically, she looked for the stairs. She flew down the four flights, but when she arrived at the hallway she was greeted by an open lift, with no one inside.
She went outside, with absolutely no idea where she was going. Her heart – Margaret’s heart – was pounding furiously, and she took deep breaths to keep her rising panic under control. She heard voices behind her and hurried around to the side of the apartment building, where no one would see her. She had to collect her thoughts, work out what she was going to do.
She found a bench and sat down. That was when she realized that Margaret’s handbag was still slung across her chest. She opened it and found a wallet. Inside the wallet there was a driver’s licence. In the dark the photo wasn’t clear, but she could make out a name – Margaret Robinson – and an address. There were keys in the bag too. So Margaret probably came here in a car . . . but there were more than a dozen cars parked on either side of this street. How would she know which one was Margaret’s?
And what did it matter even if she could identify Margaret’s car? Amanda didn’t know how to drive.
She explored the pockets in the wallet. Well, that was a relief – there had to be at least fifty dollars in it. She had an address, keys, and money for a taxi. So at least she could get home.
She walked down to the first major street and flagged down a taxi. Giving the driver the address she’d found, she leaned back in the seat and considered her situation. So, now she had become a depressed and badly dressed woman living a sad and lonely life. Why couldn’t she ever snatch the body of someone cool ?
At least Margaret didn’t live in a dump. The taxi pulled up in front of a modern building in a decent part of town. Amanda paid the driver and got out. One of the keys unlocked the front door, and she found the name Robinson on one of the postboxes in the hall. Noting the apartment number, she took the lift up to the third floor.
In the seance, Margaret had talked about being so alone. That meant she probably didn’t have flatmates. That was good – Amanda wouldn’t have to start communicating like Margaret straight away. Another key opened the apartment door. Feeling along the wall, she located a light switch and pushed it.
She was pleasantly surprised by what she saw. She’d imagined Margaret living in a place that looked as depressing as she did. But this apartment was very nice. It wasn’t a grand, fancy place, but it was
Nobody else had noticed. Their eyes were still closed, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d been watching her. This had happened before and no one had been aware, except her.
Actually, there was one other person whose eyes were open. The person who looked like Amanda. Who wasn’t even really a person, just some sort of automatic fake-Amanda, programmed to act like her. Flesh and blood, but more like a robot than a human being.
‘Your mother has to go now, Margaret,’ the medium said. ‘But she’ll come back another time to talk to you again. Do you have anything to say before she leaves?’
There was a silence. It took Amanda a few seconds before she realized she had to respond for Margaret.
‘Uh . . . bye.’
‘She is gone,’ Cassandra said.‘And I’m afraid there are no other spirits waiting to speak with us tonight. But do not despair. This is just the beginning. The spirits have been called, and they will respond. We will meet again on Monday evening.’
Amanda-Margaret rose quickly. She had to let Ken know what had happened to her. But that woman Dahlia clamped a hand on her arm.
‘You poor dear, I feel so sorry for you. Why don’t we go out and have a nice cocktail together?’
‘Sorry, no – I can’t,’Amanda said, pulling free with some effort. She turned – and saw Ken with Other-Amanda, walking out the door. She took off after them, and ran out of the apartment . . . only to see the lift doors closing behind them. Frantically, she looked for the stairs. She flew down the four flights, but when she arrived at the hallway she was greeted by an open lift, with no one inside.
She went outside, with absolutely no idea where she was going. Her heart – Margaret’s heart – was pounding furiously, and she took deep breaths to keep her rising panic under control. She heard voices behind her and hurried around to the side of the apartment building, where no one would see her. She had to collect her thoughts, work out what she was going to do.
She found a bench and sat down. That was when she realized that Margaret’s handbag was still slung across her chest. She opened it and found a wallet. Inside the wallet there was a driver’s licence. In the dark the photo wasn’t clear, but she could make out a name – Margaret Robinson – and an address. There were keys in the bag too. So Margaret probably came here in a car . . . but there were more than a dozen cars parked on either side of this street. How would she know which one was Margaret’s?
And what did it matter even if she could identify Margaret’s car? Amanda didn’t know how to drive.
She explored the pockets in the wallet. Well, that was a relief – there had to be at least fifty dollars in it. She had an address, keys, and money for a taxi. So at least she could get home.
She walked down to the first major street and flagged down a taxi. Giving the driver the address she’d found, she leaned back in the seat and considered her situation. So, now she had become a depressed and badly dressed woman living a sad and lonely life. Why couldn’t she ever snatch the body of someone cool ?
At least Margaret didn’t live in a dump. The taxi pulled up in front of a modern building in a decent part of town. Amanda paid the driver and got out. One of the keys unlocked the front door, and she found the name Robinson on one of the postboxes in the hall. Noting the apartment number, she took the lift up to the third floor.
In the seance, Margaret had talked about being so alone. That meant she probably didn’t have flatmates. That was good – Amanda wouldn’t have to start communicating like Margaret straight away. Another key opened the apartment door. Feeling along the wall, she located a light switch and pushed it.
She was pleasantly surprised by what she saw. She’d imagined Margaret living in a place that looked as depressing as she did. But this apartment was very nice. It wasn’t a grand, fancy place, but it was
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