“Who is she talking to?” Sophia said shakily. “Oh—lost spirit, allow me to guide you on your path into the afterlife.”
Triphine groaned. “Ugh. The worshippers.”
Despite her rule not to interact with ghosts in front of others, Mallory couldn’t help nodding in agreement. “Right?”
Realizing that Axel was watching her, Mallory stiffened. “We should leave. The duchess has been known to get angry when people don’t listen to her.”
“Tyrr, protect us,” Sophia panted, backing away. “Velos, give this spirit rest.”
Triphine waved her arms in mockery of the terrifying ghost she was supposed to be—but definitely wasn’t. Again she projected her ghostly voice, so that it echoed through the house.“Get out! Leave me be!”
“Go,” said Mallory, shoving Sophia. “Go! Before she gets angrier!”
Sophia and Louis huddled by the door, their faces twisted with terror.
Then—all at once—their faces unwound.
They looked at each other.
“I’ve seen enough,” said Louis. “You?”
“More than enough,” Sophia agreed.
Mallory’s brow furrowed. “Why aren’t you running away?”
“For one,” said Sophia, “because that is not the duchess.”
With a nervous laugh, Mallory gestured at the ghost. The fake one. “Ofcourseit’s the duchess. Triphine Maeng was—”
“Flesh and blood,” Louis said, sounding unimpressed as he scrutinized the figure at the top of the stairs. “Whereas that appears to be a couturier’s mannequin, dressed up like the duchess.” He scanned the mannequin from head to foot, head cocked. “Not a bad costume. The period detail is very accurate. How did you do the fireplace? And the door? Is it the same sort of trickery you and your sister use for your so-called séances?”
Mallory gasped, feigning offense. “How dare you insinuate such dishonest practices?” Drawing herself to her full height, which unfortunately wasn’t much, she added, “Fine. You stay here and get murdered by a vengeful ghost. I’m not going to—”
Louis grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. “No, Miss Fontaine, you will not be going anywhere.”
Mallory stomped on the top of his foot. Louis howled and drew back. Mallory squeezed her fist, prepared to punch him in the nose if he tried to grab her again—when two hands locked around her elbows, yanking her arms back.
Mallory cried out as Sophia latched a pair of iron shackles to her wrist.
Watching the scene in horror, Axel stumbled away, his back colliding with a wall.
“Something tells me,” Mallory said through a snarl, “you’re not really an initiate of Tyrr.”
“Investigator Sophia Blaise,” she said. “This is my partner, Investigator Louis Garneau. We’ve been tracking you and your sister for months. We’ve received innumerable accounts of fraudulent behavior: the hosting of fake séances, reading of fake fortunes, not to mention the selling of fake jewels, potions, and so-called god-relics.”
Face red with fury as he limped toward the mannequin, Investigator Garneau tore off the duchess’s wig. “I’d say this proves it. You and your sister are frauds.”
“What, exactly, does this prove?” Mallory said. “Only that you paid for an entertaining tour through the House Saphir, and you got it. What law have I broken?”
“You? Perhaps none. But your sister certainly sold us a feather that she claimed fell from the wing of a god.”
Mallory smirked. “Prove that it didn’t.”
Louis’s expression darkened. “Perhaps I can’t prove that one way or another. But after a short visit to the jeweler tomorrow, Iwill certainly be able to prove that this ring is fake.” He held up his hand, where the faux-sapphire ring sat on his pinkie.
Mallory lifted her chin. “It sounds to me like you have nothing to arrest me for tonight.”
“No?” said Sophia. “How about trespassing? This is private property, owned by the Saphir estate. You have no license to operate tours here.”
