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I’ll have to go through everything.Her auntie must’ve known that when she made her will—that Iris would be the one sorting her things, deciding what to keep and what to donate.I hope I don’t disappoint her.Was that even possible? To let a ghost down?Hopefully, her great-aunt wasn’t here, watching Iris assess the pantry contents.
She added spoons of instant coffee, dry milk, and sugar to her mug and poured in the hot water. While it cooled, she walked through the house. In the middle of what must’ve been the parlor a hundred years ago stood a proud display case stuffed full of ceramic angels. Iris remembered Great-Aunt Gertie telling stories about them as if they were real people who lived with her, something that had enchanted her at age seven.
Now she couldn’t decide if it was sweet or sad—that these figurines had taken the place of family. Hell, maybe it was for the best, because the ceramic angels wouldn’t tell her that she was a failure because she earned less than her sisters, she was single at twenty-seven, she had no psychic aptitude, and her ideas always fell apart.
Gertie probably hadn’t planned on dying alone, either. That made Iris feel closer to her, and she searched her memory, but she couldn’t recall what Gertie’s ability had been. On Iris’s dad’s side, they tended to feast on the positive emotions—anticipation, joy, excitement, and the like. She imagined that Gertie had nourished herself over her long life through joyous friendships, never taking enough to make anyone feel deprived.
Suddenly, her phone rang, making her jump. Mom’s picture flashed on the screen, like she’d summoned the woman with those thoughts.I need to put down a salt circle. Or maybe hang some garlic. If only Mom couldn’t enter without an invitation…Sadly, none of those remedies were effective at warding off her mother. Iris had heard that those old wives’ tales didn’t work ontheir blood-drinking counterparts, either, not that she’d met any of them. They were more reclusive than the fae.
“Hey, what’s up?” she said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt.
New beginning. Don’t let her get in your head.
“What time will you be here?” Mom demanded.
“Pardon me?”
“The party, don’t tell me you forgot. We’re celebrating your sister’s promotion! It’s a huge deal, Iris. Do you know how rare it is for someone Rose’s age to make partner?” Sheer incredulity oozed down the phone line.
I hate my family.
No, I…love them. I’m supposed to, right?
But I hate them.
Rose was thirty-two, five years older than Iris. She was married to a judge who might run for state senate. Privately, Iris loathed her brother-in-law, Greg Connery. He was smug and pretentious, prone to name-dropping and boasting about his connections. If that wasn’t bad enough, he alsowatchedIris in ways that made her deeply uncomfortable, his gaze lingering on her ass, on her cleavage, while he lectured about her life choices. The one time she’d mentioned it to Rose, her sister practically hissed like a cat and threatened to tell Mom what a jealous liar Iris was.
So Rose either had no clue that her husband was a creep or refused to admit it. She fed all on the glorious negativity associated with law and politics in addition to adoring the upper-crust sound of Rose Collins-Connery, such elegant alliteration, and—
Fuck. I totally forgot about the party.
Honestly, that was typical. Iris tended to shove things she didn’t want to deal with out of her brain, and that worked fine until someone showed up to yell about how she’d let them down.
Like now.
At this point, she was pretty good at coming up with off-the-cuff lies to cover her own ass. This time, she decided to pretend this was anintentionaldecision, not a mental glitch. “Nobody will miss me,” she said lightly. “Something came up, so I’m not even in Ohio right now. Congratulate Rose for me, though.”
“Iris, please, just—”
“By the way, do you happen to recall how Great-Aunt Gertie’s powers worked?” If she had any.
“Why are you asking that all of a sudden?”
“Because I’m curious, obviously.”
A long-suffering sigh slid out of her mother like a tire deflating. “Iris, tell me the truth. Are you in trouble again?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Are you boycotting this event because Lily is dating your ex? It’s not fair to punish Rose because you’re mad at Lily.”
Iris ignored that. “I have an appointment soon, so I need to go. Talk to you soon!” For once, Iris got the last word.
She disconnected while Mom was gearing up the interrogation, and that silence after she tapped the red phone icon felt like ahugevictory.
Eli Reese wasn’t an internet stalker.
Which, come to think of it, sounded like something an internet stalker would say.
