Born of Illusion (20 page)

“Are you excited? I’m so excited!”

I smile in assent and climb into the automobile.

The ride to the church is a quick one, with Cynthia jabbering happily next to me. It’s reassuring that she’s still the same in spite of her new look. Keeping up with her chatter distracts me from the pit in my stomach.

Instead of meeting in the sanctuary, we go to a back room that looks more like an office than an Italian villa. A dilapidated desk sits in one corner and the dark brown carpeting is worn and stained. In the center of the room, eight straight-back wooden chairs are set up in a circle.

Several people stand near the middle of the room talking when Cynthia and I come in. After the introductions are over, I sit in one of the chairs, while Cynthia continues chatting. There’s no way I can make small talk in my frame of mind. I don’t know what I expect out of this meeting, but I’m hoping for some answers. It’s not as if Cole is going to give me any.

My brow furrows. He said there were others with my abilities. Though he’d never mentioned it, I wonder if he was talking about the Society for Psychical Research? I turn the idea over in my mind. Perhaps, but spiritualist societies abound. Or maybe he was talking about a far more sinister kind of society? Like the kind Aleister Crowley or other occultists belong to. Since he won’t tell me, I have no way of knowing.

Even though I’m facing away from the door, I know the second Dr. Bennett walks into the room. His energy reaches me before he even says a chipper hello to the others. My abilities are getting stronger and sharper, just as Cole said they would. The vision leaps into my mind and I shudder.

Why do I feel like I’m running out of time?

“I’m glad you could make it, Miss Van Housen.”

Startled, I look up into Dr. Bennett’s florid features. “Er, yes. Thank you for inviting me.”

“What are you hoping to learn from this meeting?”

I’d expected a question like that and have a pat answer already in my pocket. I flash him a Cynthia Gaylord smile. “Oh, I’m just interested in any and all psychical phenomena.”

He tilts his head and considers me. I smile until my cheeks hurt. Just because I want answers doesn’t mean I trust him. Not yet.

“You have come to the right place,” he says finally. “He clasps his hands. “Shall we all take a seat?”

With his fingers interlaced over his vest, he tells a bit of the history of the Society for Psychical Research. “It’s the longest-running psychical investigation group in the world and has included luminaries such as Dickens, Yeats, and currently, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

“What do they investigate?” asked Mr. Huber, the German man I met at the lecture.

“Extrasensory perception, clairvoyance, dream theory, and of course, channeling the dead in its many forms, such as spirit writing or telekinetic activity.”

I watch Dr. Bennett carefully as he speaks. He doesn’t hesitate over his answers and speaks with authority. But then again, so does my mother.

“Has the Society for Psychical Research found incontrovertible proof that this type of activity exists?” Cynthia asks.

I look at her in surprise.

Dr. Bennett smiles. “That, my dear lady, is what the wider scientific community wishes to know. Thus far, the Society for Psychical Research has been vague about its findings so as not to alarm the general public. But I can tell you that I have been present at some of their investigations, and I have seen the proof for myself.”

There’s a rustling and murmuring among the other attendees.

“What kind of proof have you seen?” I finally ask.

“I have seen apparitions, telekinetic activity, and spirit writing. I also personally know people with a high degree of extrasensory perception.”

I cross my arms and frown. I’ve seen all those things too. Ha! I’ve created all those things.

“You look suspicious, Miss Van Housen.” He smiles as he says this, but I think he’s pegged Cynthia and me as troublemakers.

“I’m a cautious person, Doctor Bennett. Can you tell me more about the extrasensory perception?” That seems the closest to what I have. I don’t even want to think about Walter.

“Extrasensory perception is the ability to read thoughts or emotions, or foretell the future. Some of the tests I’ve seen use cards, while others are more complex and use electroencephalograms, which is a device used for reading the electrical waves within the brain and was first developed by a friend of mine, Richard Caton.”

I tentatively raise my hand again and he nods. “You mentioned clairvoyance. Have you known anyone who has visions of the future? And if so, are the visions set in stone or have you seen people actually alter the events foretold in the visions?” I’m skating on thin ice with such a specific question, but I see no other way to get answers.

He raises a brow. “From what I have learned, the clairvoyant is actually seeing what will happen, not what might happen. I’ve been told that seeing the future is much like seeing the past; it’s unchangeable.” He smiles and looks around the room. “Next question?”

My heart races and I clench my hands together in my lap.
Unchangeable
. I take a shaky breath, trying not to attract attention. Focus.

Mr. Huber raises his hand. “So you are trying to start a North American branch of the Society for Psychical Research?”

Dr. Bennett’s face wrinkles into a deep frown. “That was my mission when I first arrived in the States, but I have to be honest and tell you that the Society for Psychical Research and I have had, how shall I say it, a parting of the ways? Yes, that is a good way to put it.”

His voice is leading and an older woman in a feather boa asks, “May I ask what happened?”

Dr. Bennett heaves a sigh. “I do not wish to malign an organization I used to have so much respect for. I had issues with their methodologies and I reverently believe that all humans should be treated as equals. Unfortunately, I feel that the scientists in the Society for Psychical Research lost sight of that and treated their valuable subjects no better than mice in a laboratory. But enough of that. Suffice it to say that I plan on forming my own organization, where science is valued, but not more than the people it serves.”

He stands as he delivers that last line and one nice lady claps. Oh, he is a showman.

“Now, let’s get right down to the tests, shall we? Though some of them may seem strange, rest assured they are all very scientific. Think of it! Some of you may have actual psychical abilities!”

I wipe my hands on my dress nervously. Will he really be able to tell? I suddenly don’t want him to know. Not yet. So far he hasn’t given me any reason to trust him.

He runs us through a series of quizzes that include guessing the picture on a number of cards with symbols on them, and though the answers float into my mind, I give him the wrong response every time. I’ve never been able to read people’s thoughts before and wonder if this is more of Cole’s effect on my abilities or if I’ve always been able to do things like this and just never tried it.

After he finishes, he announces that he wishes to interview everyone privately. “I have a sign-up sheet I would like you all to fill out. Please put your name and address on the sheet and I can send you more information on meetings and such. There are also cookies and coffee. Chat amongst yourselves while I talk to each of you. Miss Van Housen?” He nods his head toward a couple of chairs set up in the corner of the room.

We have a seat, but before we get started, Mr. Huber walks over. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I can’t seem to find a pen.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Dr. Bennett takes one out of his vest pocket and hands it to him.

The pen has a fancy engraved silver barrel and jet black top. Mr. Huber looks at it and frowns. “Where did you find this? Mr. Parker lost one the other day that’s similar to this one.”

Dr. Bennett smiles easily. “I actually bought that at Harrods before I left London. It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”

Mr. Huber nods his assent and walks back to the desk where the others are eating cookies and talking.

Dr. Bennett’s dishonesty hits me in the chest like a brick. “You’re lying,” I blurt out, then cover my mouth with my hand.

Dr. Bennett narrows his eyes and sits back in his chair. “And you know that how?”

I swallow, my mind scrambling. “I’m sorry, I don’t, of course.”

“Oh, I think you do, Miss Van Housen. Don’t try to cover it up. You are a very gifted young woman.”

I stiffen in my chair, but inside I’m trembling.

He knows.

I don’t trust him at all, and yet part of me desperately wants to. Wants to be able to just spill everything out to someone who obviously knows a lot more about extrasensory perception than I do. But unlike my mother, I am not a risk taker and it’s far too soon to put my trust in a man who is clearly a scientific con man.

He waits for me to answer, his face practically bursting with suppressed excitement.

No. I do not trust him yet. I try to look confused. “I have no idea what you mean. Are you talking about my magic show?”

He laughs. “Actually, no. I’m talking about your psychical abilities. You’re the only person I’ve ever tested who got every single answer wrong. The laws of chance alone are against that happening. So you see, your slipup over the pen didn’t give you away, my dear. I already knew. My question is, Why are you hiding it?”

I curse my own stupidity and am completely at a loss as to what to do or say that won’t give me away further. I finally shake my head. “I think this interview is over for now, Dr. Bennett, but I am very interested in your research and organization.”

He stands as well. “Very well, Miss Van Housen, I understand your position. You’re not the first person who has wanted to hide their abilities. I will keep you informed. I do hope you will at some point be able to trust me. There are further tests I would like to do, and I believe I can help you immensely.”

His gray eyes are clear and completely candid, but they don’t mesh with the mixed messages I feel coming off him.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask Cynthia when she’s finished her interview. I want to get out of here and mull over what I’ve learned.

His eyes track me as I leave, and I have a hunch that Dr. Bennett will be getting in touch with me very soon.

Seventeen

S
everal days later, I’m surprised to find Mother up and dressed after my morning’s shopping is done. She’s been on her best behavior the past few days—our shows have gone off seamlessly and she’s made no more references to our last séance. It makes me wonder what she’s up to.

So far, I’ve managed to avoid Cole, but perhaps he’s been avoiding me, too. Truthfully, I’m a bit miffed he hasn’t sought me out to see how I’ve been. Maybe he’s waiting for me to come to him. I probably will eventually, but I’m in no hurry.

I haven’t had the vision again and I am praying it was just some sort of strange anomaly, but Dr. Bennett’s words keep going around and around in my brain. What if he’s right? What if I can’t stop it?

“Where have you been, darling?”

I shake my basket at her. “Shopping.”

“All you ever shop for is food. I want to go buy you some new clothes. You have nothing to wear tomorrow night.”

My mind blanks. “Tomorrow night? I thought I’d just wear what I always wear for the show.”

“No, I meant with Owen, afterward. You want to look smart, don’t you?”

I let out a breath. “Oh. I forgot.” What’s wrong with me? Here I am a mere day before going out dancing with a handsome young man and I’ve completely forgotten about it. Sometimes I despair of ever being normal.

She throws up her hands in mock hopelessness. “What am I going to do with you? Come on. I’ll call Jacques and he can send a car over for us. Let’s go to Bonwit Teller and find something.”

I shake my head. “No, I have plenty of clothes. Or I can borrow something of yours.”

“But don’t you want something new?”

“Mother, I don’t need it. And what’s more, we can’t afford it.”

She sits at the table, her mouth pursed with disappointment. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe you’re my daughter.”

“That makes two of us,” I say dryly.

“Now, none of your sass. And what do you mean, we can’t afford it? We’re making good money, aren’t we? The apartment is practically rent free and electricity is cheap. I don’t know why you’re so worried all the time.”

Because someone needs to be,
I think. “We’re almost the same size, and you have lots of clothes. I might as well take advantage of it. Come on; let’s go see what you have.”

The thought of looking through her clothes mollifies Mother and I spend the next hour choosing what I’ll wear. We decide on a short-sleeved beige shift with silver beads dressing up the front. It has a daring handkerchief hemline and I’ll wear it with a long silk scarf tied about my neck. It’s fussier than I want and half as fussy as my mother would prefer.

After picking out my clothes, a knock on the door sounds and I answer, hoping it’s not Jacques again. He’s taken to coming over almost every day now.