“No one mixes romance, mystery, and that faint, spine-tingling sense of the supernatural, that curtain lifting in a breeze that isn't there, the hair prickling on the back of your neck, like Simone St. James. Her novels are the perfect combination of classic ghost story, historical fiction, and romantic suspense.”—Lauren Willig London, 1925. Glamorous medium Gloria Sutter made her fortune helping the bereaved contact loved ones killed during the Great War. Now she's been murdered at one of her own séances, after leaving a message requesting the help of her former friend and sole rival, Ellie Winter.   Ellie doesn't contact the dead—at least, not anymore. She specializes in miraculously finding lost items. Still, she can't refuse the final request of the only other true psychic she has known. Now Ellie must delve into Gloria's secrets and plunge back into the world of hucksters, lowlifes, and fakes. Worse, she cannot shake the attentions of handsome James Hawley, a damaged war veteran who has dedicated himself to debunking psychics.   As Ellie and James uncover the sinister mysteries of Gloria's life and death, Ellie is tormented by nightmarish visions that herald the grisly murders of those in Gloria's circle. And as Ellie’s uneasy partnership with James turns dangerously intimate, an insidious evil force begins to undermine their quest for clues, a force determined to bury the truth, and whoever seeks to expose it... Praise for The Other Side of Midnight “A thoroughly gripping murder mystery…drips with atmosphere and emotion.”— Publishers Weekly “Lyrical writing, chilling ghost stories, complicated characters and gripping mysteries are all contained in the wonderful books of Simone St. James.”— RT Book Reviews , Top Pick “No one mixes romance, mystery, and that faint, spine-tingling sense of the supernatural, that curtain lifting in a breeze that isn't there, the hair prickling on the back of your neck, like Simone St. James. Her novels are the perfect combination of classic ghost story, historical fiction, and romantic suspense.”—Lauren Willig, author of the Pink Carnation series and The Ashford Affair “A headily atmospheric and suspenseful mystery that kept me reading until the wee hours. Her command of the period is so immersive, and her characters so real and heartbreakingly broken, that I felt transported…”—Jennifer Robson, author of Somewhere in France and After the War is Over “Simone St. James has created her own genre—historical gothic mystery romance, with more than a dash of the creepy…Real emotional resonance.”—Susan Elia MacNeal, New York Times bestselling author of the Maggie Hope Mysteries Praise for the Award-Winning Novels of Simone St. James “Downright scary and atmospheric. I flew through the pages.”— New York Times Bestselling Author Lisa Gardner “Chilling romantic suspense that evokes the lost era between the world wars.”— New York Times Bestselling Author Susanna Kearsley “[A] truly spine-chilling page-turner…Riveting.”—Mary Sharratt, author of Daughters of the Witching Hill Simone St. James is the award-winning author of The Haunting of Maddy Clare , which won two RITA awards from Romance Writers of America and a Best First from Crime Writers of Canada, as well as Silence of the Dead and An Inquiry into Love and Death . Chapter One London, 1925 The man who sat before me at seven o'clock on a Tuesday evening was lying. He'd come with an impeccable reference from a barrister client of mine, and though he was barely thirty-five, the tailoring of his three-piece suit and the glint of his watch chain spoke of success. He wore power easily in his posture and the set of his shoulders, like a man accustomed to it, and yet the problem he set me was not only trifling; it was false. He dropped his gaze to the table, where my fingers rested over his, and I took the opportunity to study his face undetected. Slender, clean shaven. Almost handsome, but not quite; something about the width of the temples was off, and an absolute seriousness marred his expression, suggesting no sense of humor. His brows were drawn down as though something weighed on him, and his mouth was pulled into a grim line, as if he was thinking of something terrible and new. Whatever his true reason for consulting a psychic, he was not giving it away. I glanced at the clock on the mantel. We'd been here for an hour already. I'd earned my shillings. The man looked up at me, uncomfortable in my silence. "I wonder perhaps-" "Hush," I said. "You must not interrupt." It never occurred to him to obey. "It's just that-" "Mr. Baker, if you cannot let me concentrate, I have no hope of finding your sister's brooch." I gave him a stern look, the black beads on my dress clacking. I was prolonging things needlessly now, but he'd annoyed me, and I was admittedly peevish. "Please concentrate. Picture the brooch in your head. See it in as much detail as you possibly can. Picture where you last sa