“Mally,no.”
Ignoring her sister, she went to the door and yanked it open.
The hallway was empty. Quiet.
Sticking her head out, Mallory peered in both directions. There was no sign of Le Bleu. No sign of anyone or anything.
Until—distantly—a rumble of laughter disappearing into the shadows.
“You know,” she shouted after it, “as far as I can tell, the scariest thing about you is that you can’t carry a tune!”
She slammed the door shut and threw the deadbolt with a resounding thunk. She immediately felt silly for it, though. A lock wasn’t going to keep out a ghost.
At her shouting, the piano music ceased, too. She sighed.
“That’s just grand,” said Anaïs. “As if it wasn’t already hard enough to get a decent night’s rest in this house, now we’ve got a murderer prowling around our door.”
Mallory frowned. “You haven’t been sleeping well?”
Anaïs snorted. “Between the musical ghost and the sister who likes to pace around our room, plotting her next move at all hours of the night? That can’t be a surprise.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep my pacing to a minimum.” Mallory lit another candle, hoping in vain to chase away some of the darkness. “Armand has an herb that helps him sleep. Maybe he can make you up some special tea.”
Anaïs shrugged. “Maybe. It isn’t so bad. Though… you should know that I did see him yesterday.” Her voice wavered the tiniest bit. “Le Bleu.”
Mallory’s lips parted. She had seen countless ghosts over the past seven years, but to her knowledge, her sister had never seen any.
“I went to the orangerie, and when I was returning to the house… I saw a figure in one of the upstairs windows. Watching me. At first I thought it was Armand, and I waved. But he didn’t wave back, and I noticed that he had a beard, and…” She gulped. “I didn’t realize until later that it was our window he was standing at. That window.”
“He was only trying to frighten you.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
Mallory frowned.
“I think he’s curious about us,” Anaïs said. “From what we’ve been told, he could have done much worse to us than he has.”
“Perhaps.” Mallory sat on the foot of the bed. “But he clearly did not want me going into the cellar.”
“The cellar?”
“That’s where the took the bodies, after he killed them.”
Anaïs shuddered.
“He recognized me. He said… he said that he should thank me.For opening the door for him, all those years ago.” She bunched the fabric of her nightgown in her fist. “He insinuated that it’s because of me that he escaped from Verloren, and he doesn’t intend to ever go back.”
“Great gods.” Anaïs drew her knees in closer. “Iknewit. When Armand told us about the timing, I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. I went along with your séance, and now…”
Mallory became more insistent. “We still don’t know exactly what happened that night. We were children.”
“It would seem we released a murderer that night.”
“Maybe. But… it was anaccident.”
Anaïs reached forward. Only when she’d removed the candlestick from Mallory’s hands did Mallory realize she was shaking. Anaïs returned it to the nightstand.
“This doesn’t feel right, Mally,” she said softly. “Armand is a good person. A little awkward and unsocial, perhaps, but also… kind. He is doing the best he can by his staff and his family legacy… and here we are, mucking it up.”
