NEW: Solomon

 

Madame Jezreel sat alone at the small round table, automatically shuffling a tarot deck between one hand and the other. The séance was over, and she now had time to think. There had only been the three of them, herself included. A small gathering, but an intimate one. She knew the couple well, too well perhaps, a knowing smile crossing her lips, but these things happen. Being a medium may seem like a lonely isolated life, but she had never found it so.

A connection between the living and the dead was an intimacy for her. She was the bridge between lovers, between rivals, between horrors that lay as dark festering secrets amongst families and friends. The dead were her conduit to the lusts and harms that we as fragile humans do to each other, and with each other, and the dead held no secrets from her.

She wondered about the couple that had just left her, him fashionably handsome but constantly fidgety, she plain but hiding it well, rarely moving a muscle through the whole séance. They had wanted to contact an old, dear and recently departed Uncle Solomon. She had done as she had been asked, as she had been paid to do. She quickly sought out and connected with Solomon, but he was no uncle to them, of that Jezreel was sure. They had been hiding more than she had realised from her. Solomon was their darkness.