Page 24 of Sleep No More
The woman behind the counter was unpacking a carton filled with various colored crystals swathed in a lot of bubble wrap. She smiled a warm smile.
“I’ll be right with you,” she said.
She spoke in a gentle, sparkling voice that made Pallas think of musical instruments. It was a voice that suited the scent of incense in the atmosphere. The rest of her went with the ethereal voice. Sheappeared to be in her late twenties, but she could have been a few years older. She had the delicate features and good bones that ensured she would always look younger than her real age.
“I’m Pallas Llewellyn and this is Ambrose Drake,” Pallas said. “Are you Serenity?”
“Yes,” Serenity said. “Welcome to Carnelian and to Prism.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ambrose said. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your last name.”
“I stopped using it a few years ago,” Serenity said. “It was one of the ways I severed my connection to some bad energy in my past.”
“I see.” Ambrose went forward a few steps to examine a large metal gong that stood atop a pedestal. “Interesting shop you’ve got here.”
“Thanks,” Serenity said. “Prism has been a legacy institution in Carnelian for decades. Years ago it was founded by a meditation master who searched the entire coast of California to find the right place for the shop. She said Carnelian had the positive energy she needed. Each successive owner has taken care to make sure the shop passes into the hands of someone who understands that Prism has a mission.”
“What is the mission?” Ambrose asked.
Serenity rewarded his brusque question with a gracious smile. “We like to think that we are selling products that are infused with the good energy in this area.”
“Right,” Ambrose said, not bothering to conceal his skepticism. He moved to examine a row of crystal pyramids.
Pallas shot him what she intended as a quelling look. They had agreed that she would conduct the interview. He was supposed to play the part of scriptwriter and assistant. He caught her eye and shrugged.
She turned back to Serenity. “Don’t mind my assistant. He gets paid to be skeptical. The podcast attracts a lot of fakes and frauds.”
“Of course,” Serenity said. She chuckled. “I understand. You’d be surprised how many fakes and frauds there are in my business. Mr.Drake has every reason to be skeptical. When I walk into other shops that cater to the same market Prism does I’m inclined to be skeptical, too. But generally speaking, it isn’t difficult to decide if others share the vision of Prism.”
Pallas took another look around the shop. “You are trying to help your customers find harmony and balance.”
Serenity almost glowed. “Exactly. I’m so pleased you understand.” She glanced at Ambrose. “Not everyone does.”
“We got your message,” Pallas said. She tightened her grip on the messenger bag and moved toward the counter. She was not as concerned with stumbling over bad energy as she was with maneuvering her messenger bag through the rows of glass shelving filled with delicate crystals, chimes, incense burners, and dainty teacups. “Thank you for offering to speak to us about the Carnelian ghosts.”
“You are very welcome, but I’m sure you’re being inundated with offers from people who want to talk about the local legend. Everyone in town will be thrilled to know that our ghosts will be featured on your podcast. I’m sure you know the story?”
“I think so,” Pallas said. She made it to the front counter without incident and set her big bag on the floor. She took out a notebook. “From what we’ve been able to tell, it’s a classic ghost story.The Lost Night Filesdoesn’t usually do that kind of thing, but the asylum connection in this case makes it potentially interesting.”
Ambrose spoke from the other side of the shop. “We understand there is a history of disappearances associated with the old hospital for the insane.”
“Sadly, yes,” Serenity said. “They say the patients who were committed there walked through the front doors and were never seen again. To be honest, that was probably true of most old asylums.”
“Families had their mentally ill relatives committed as a way of making them disappear from society,” Ambrose said. “Wouldn’t want rumors of insanity in the bloodline to get around.”
“It was also a convenient technique for getting rid of ‘troublesome’ women or those who were standing in the path of a lot of money,” Pallas said.
“That’s certainly what happened to poor Catherine Carnelian,” Serenity said. She glanced at Ambrose and then looked down at the large messenger bag beside Pallas. “Aren’t you going to record me?”
“We’re just gathering background at this stage,” Pallas said smoothly. “We haven’t decided if we’re going to do the story.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flashed briefly in Serenity’s eyes, but she brightened immediately.
Pallas flipped open her notebook. “What do you know about the history of the Carnelian Psychiatric Hospital for the Insane?”
“What everyone here in town knows,” Serenity said. She smiled. “It’s haunted, of course. What abandoned asylum isn’t?”
“What’s the story of the haunting?” Pallas asked.