And what if can’t be broken?
The thought gave her pause. The moment she took off her glove, it aged very quickly. What if her curse was broken and she died? What would that do to Sven? She hadn’t said anything to him yet because she didn’t want him to worry, but she wasthinking about it now. The curse placed on her was not the same as his curse.
Hers had backfired for some reason. And she knew this because of her memory. Her father only wanted her to forget about Sven so she would marry someone else.
Was it because the room repels spirits?
After Sven explained how the iron infused in the walls affected him and other ghosts, she couldn’t help but wonder if that was the reason her curse had backfired. It would make sense, but again, she didn’t know. If only the other ghosts had seen it.
Which seemed doubtful.
Maybe they did,an optimistic voice said in her head. The logical voice wasn’t so sure. If her iron hideaway repelled Sven to prevent him from being caught inside it, it probably trapped ghosts too.
The problem was, they didn’t like talking to her. Flo wished even one of the ghosts would talk to her. There were spirits here older than her, ones who had been here a long time. They might’ve seen what happened. Then again, she hadn’t really been receptive toward them either.
As she was sitting there, flipping through the books, one of the ghosts entered the room. It was Lottie. Lottie never seemed like she wanted to chat, but she would look in her direction. She would acknowledge her presence, but it didn’t mean that she wanted to be friendly with her.
Lottie had died before she did, so she might actually have been there the day Flo was cursed. This was all just speculation because for years, Flo had remained hidden from them. She was terrified of them the first time she saw them because she didn’t want to believe that she was dead, and talking to the spirits meant she could be dead. Then again, she wondered if the spirts were terrified of her because she wasn’t a ghost like them.
She was a revenant, one who was undead.
Don’t be such a chicken. Find out.
Flo set the book down she was holding and looked Lottie straight in the eye.
Lottie’s gaze pierced through her. Her lips pursed together. Lottie was younger and often seen with the child spirit, who was her daughter.
Flo didn’t know how they died, only that it must have been tragic.
Lottie looked away, floating to move on, so Flo jumped up.
“Hello.”
Lottie froze mid-hover and looked back over her shoulder, surprised. “Well, hello there, Florence.”
Flo moved closer. “You’re not afraid of me?”
Lottie puffed up her chest like she was insulted. “What makes you think that I’m afraid of you?”
“I’ve been here for a century and none of you have talked to me before now.”
Lottie rolled her eyes imperiously. “You’ve never wanted to talk to us before, so we never tried. You kept your distance, so we gave you space.”
“I thought you were all afraid of me,” Flo admitted. “Because I was different.”
“There you go with that word again. Afraid. It’s preposterous, as I said. We were worried you were afraid of us, so we kept our distance. You’ve been skittish from the moment you came out of that gin closet.”
“How did you know about the speakeasy?”
Lottie looked at her with disbelief. “Everyone knows about the gin closet. I’ve been here for some time, my girl.”
“Are we related? Are you an ancestor of mine?”
Lottie nodded. “Yes, I would be your great-great-grandmother. I died from tuberculosis quite young, along withone of my daughters who is running around in the attics most days. So, she would be your great-great-aunt.”
“Oh! Well, it’s nice to meet you.”
Lottie seemed to relax a bit. “It’s nice to finally formally make your acquaintance.”
