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The game ended with Ryke (who we were lifting) crashing down on Rose. Now we all sit in a circle, candles lit in the middle. It’d be scarier if we were trying to contact a demon or something. But Rose and her sisters just want to talk to their Old Aunt Margot, so it seems harmless.
That’s what I’m telling myself.
A storm rages, thunder booming. It’d tag the mood as dramatic and frightening.
New eulogy: that Willow Moore, what a chicken—afraid of some raindrops. Hugging my arms around my body, I watch the candles flicker.
Coconut howls from the kitchen, paws padding along the floorboards. Daisy goes rigid, and her head whips around the living room quickly. Like she’s trying to mentally scan each nook and cranny.
I frown, worried that the dark, storm, and tiny bumps and bangs aren’t good for her PTSD.
Ryke pulls Daisy closer to him, his lips beside her ear, whispering. She seems to relax a little at his words.
My lip nearly lifts, happy that she has someone like Ryke who cares. The thought makes me glance up towards the balconies.
Garrison.
I hope he’s okay.
“Aunt Margot it is,” Rose declares, pulling the attention back to herself. I think, maybe purposefully. That’s just the kind of sister Rose is. She knows when to command the spotlight when others want to dip out of it. “Let’s all hold hands.” She extends her palm to me, and I take it.
Lily, Loren, Connor, Ryke, and Daisy complete the circle. The babies, Maximoff and Jane, are safe in their cribs upstairs.
“Close your eyes,” Rose instructs.
My eyelids shut, darkness cocooning me.
“Aunt Margot,” Rose begins the séance. “We’re calling you, Aunt Margot.” Rain hammers violently, the wind picking up. Goosebumps dot my arms. “We miss your beautiful, lost soul. Please come to us.”
Lo chuckles, and it’s practically contagious.
My lips threaten to rise, but I smooth them down.
Rose continues like Lo didn’t ruin anything. “Fight through the barrier of the afterlife so that we may speak with you.”
Craaaaaaacccck!
I jump, my eyes shooting open.
Lily lets out a terrified, muffled squeal, her head hidden beneath a quilt.
“What the fuck was that?” Ryke asks. He glances out the floor-length window, maybe worried the lake house took damage from the storm.
“It’s electrostatic discharge,” Connor tells him. “Also known as lightning.”
Lights flicker on and off until a bulb cracks and they all blink out. I think we might have just lost power. A chill snakes down my spine. Could this maybe not have happened during a séance? Coincidence, right?
“Ohmygod,” Lily slurs in a panicked whisper.
“Old Aunt Margot?” Daisy calls out, the only one with her eyes still shut. “Can you hear us?” If I was just listening to her, I’d think she was having fun. Zero percent fear. But it’s hard not to notice how her collarbones protrude like she’s holding in a breath. Her knuckles whiten, gripped to her knees.
Whhhaaaaap!
Lily screams at the new noise, the one coming from upstairs. Oh God, no.
I shoot to my feet, my focus drilling on the staircase. I swear the sound originated from my bedroom, and maybe I’m just being overly paranoid, here, but Garrison is alone and there’s a vicious thunderstorm outside.
Horrible images of tree limbs skewering windows and impaling his body ravage my mind. Gruesome Final Destination worthy fears that most likely aren’t coming true, but it takes all of my energy not to run upstairs right now.
“What was that noise?” Lily asks. “Connor?”
Connor Cobalt stares at the ceiling. “An object fell.”
“By a ghost?”
Unless the ghost’s name is Garrison Abbey…it’s no ghost.
Thuuuump! is accompanied by a long, sharp groan.
Garrison.
I don’t even take account of the shocked, horrified faces around me. My ears ring, my focus tunneling as footsteps pad along the floorboards upstairs.
“Moffy.” Lily bolts towards the staircase, towards her son’s room, baby monitor in her clutch.
They think there’s an intruder. Oh God. I mobilize, springing into action.
“Lily wait—” Lo runs after his wife, just as I sprint in the opposite direction. Footsteps gather behind me.
I’m being followed by Rose and Connor, but I don’t stop. Not even as I hurriedly ascend another staircase on the west side of the lake house. Racing towards my bedroom and the source of the noise.
Without power, the second-floor hallway is encased in darkness. But even in the pitch-black, I know where I’m going. My pulse hammers in my ears. Please be okay.
Please be okay.
I land at my bedroom and turn the knob. Locked.
A glow from a cellphone flashlight abruptly illuminates the door—and me.
I squint from the sudden brightness. Connor holds up his cell from his six-foot-four height, and the glow bears down on me like I’m under the brightest spotlight.
Cover blown.
I don’t care.
I don’t care.
I only care about him.
I bang my palm against the wooden door. “Are you okay?” My voice cracks in worry.
“Is he in there?” Connor asks like he already knows who’s on the other side. How? I instantly shake off my shock. I’ve been living with Connor Cobalt. He’s perceptive.
