Roland Bernhart scrutinised each person at the dimly lit table.

And he saw the same thing in every face. Hope. They'd all come to him for the same reason, so distraught by the death of their loved ones they'd do anything. And Bernhart was happy to oblige... for a price.

In the relatively short space of time he'd been in this line of work, he'd made so much more than he ever had as the Great Alonzo's protégé-cum-lackey.

"You're tampering with forces you cannot possibly comprehend," Alonzo had told him when he discovered his plans. But Bernhart understood the psychic game better than anyone realised. It was simply another con, another magic trick. The illusion of life after death.

He almost grinned as he instructed his clients to hold hands. Then Bernhart depressed the first button under his chair with his foot and it suddenly went icy cold - thanks to a small hidden fan in the room.

Bernhart rolled his eyes and groaned. "Is there anybody out there? Knock once for yes, twice for no."

His foot hovered over the second button, the one that triggered the tape player and the knocking sound effects. But before he could do anything, there came a sharp rap on the table. The sound went right through him and he jumped.

The tape player must’ve started on its own...

But no. Deep down Bernhart knew the truth.

There was somebody, some thing out there tonight...

And now it was in here.

With him.