The three spent the remainder of the day in preparation. Over the years, they had done much experimentation combining witchcraft and modern science. What they created was a potent magic that allowed Anise to be one of the best known mediums in the country.
It was a delicate balance. Anise's mediumship required Senna's grounding. Born together, it seemed that there was some magic that connected them. Two weights on opposite sides of a scale. Senna was empathic, feeling all and speaking little, while Anise felt nothing of the living but spoke for the dead.
The night was dark despite the full moon. Paul lit anointed candles all around Anise where she sat as a small desk. Senna had made an amulet of protective herbs for her sister to wear around her neck. With a deep breath, Anise began.
"I call upon the spirit of Geneva Hanson. Join us in peace that I may lend you my hand to answer our questions."
Her left hand reached for the pen. In perfect, curved script that she could never achieve with her non-dominant hand, words began to form.
"Why do you call upon me?"
"You spoke to me once willingly. I want to help you if I can."
"Very well. Ask your questions."
"Who was the spirit you conjured?"
"His name was Nicholas Pierson. I was asked to bring forth a Nicholas Pearson, but that menace arrived instead. It seems the dead have no account for spelling." Came the sarcastic reply. I had never known a spirit to give such sass.
"Do you know why he murdered those people?"
"No."
"Are you a lost soul or can I set you free?"
There was a long pause. "I don't know. But if you want to help, find Nicholas Pierson."
With that, Geneva's sprit left. Paul lit the lamps and Senna looked over the writing.
"Well, now we know who to look for, at least," Paul said, sighing. "You best get to sleep. Both of you."
That night Anise dreamt of her mother. She was a beautiful woman, taken by consumption when she and Senna were ten. In the dream, her mother was dancing in a garden. Then, she started to cry. Anise couldn't hear the words she said, but when she turned, she could see her mother's gravestone. She blinked and it was her father's funeral three years later when he had been taken by syphilis.
Anise woke weeping. She hadn't ever tried to contact her parents after they passed. She feared that if she lost her control in the middle of the séance, they might be lost forever.