Page 125 of Love at First Fright

I followed, pulse hammering. Familiar cold fingers wrapped around my arm, Bat’s pale face splitting with a grin that showed entirely too much enjoyment.

Dave stumbled into the main hall, skidding to a halt at the base of the grand staircase. His chest heaved. Sweat plastered grey hair to his forehead.

“Right. Right. I’m leaving. This is mental. Absolutely mental.”

He lurched towards the front door.

But movement at the top of the staircase froze us all.

Vivian appeared—blonde hair in perfect pin curls, crimson lipstick, a dove-grey dress. She struck a pose, one hand pressed to her forehead, the other clutching the bannister.

“Brace yourself,” Bat said, voice warm with obvious affection. “She’s about to perform.”

Vivian gasped—theatrical, overwrought. “No! Please! You can’t make me!”

Then she threw herself down the stairs.

Not fell. Threw.

Her body tumbled, dress billowing, limbs flailing in movements that somehow looked both genuine and impossibly choreographed. She shrieked—a blood-curdling sound that echoed off the high ceiling.

Dave pressed himself against the wall, mouth hanging open.

Brad raised the EMF reader with shaking hands.

Vivian landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs. Frozen mid-gasp, one arm flung dramatically across her face.

Then she vanished.

Just—gone. Empty space where her broken form had lain.

“I can’t—” Dave’s voice faltered. “Who—she just—is she—”

Bat murmured, “That’s her favourite scene from The Scarlet Widow. Won her a BAFTA.”

“She got a BAFTA for that?!”

Silence crashed through the hall.

Brad’s head whipped towards me. “What? BAFTA what?”

Dave stared at me like I’d started speaking Mandarin. Or lost my mind. Probably both.

Fire flooded my face. “I meant—that looked like Vivian Starling, right? I was just…”

Bat’s shoulders shook with silent laughter against my arm. “Smooth.”

“Shut up,” I hissed.

Brad’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t say anything.”

Arggg! Why was this so hard?!

Dave made another desperate lunge for the front door. Grabbed the handle, twisted hard.

Nothing.

He yanked again. Rattled the knob violently. “No. No, no, no. Open, you bastard!”