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Exhibiting a confidence I didn’t necessarily feel, I joined the crowd of extremely fancy mourners that were flooding into the manor. In a way, it was a lot like the Hollywood parties I’d been to. The guests weren’t there because of the host, not really. They were there to see and be seen, and to show off the fact that they’d warranted an invitation. It made me a little sad for Magda, really. Her wake felt more like an all-black business meeting than a celebration of life.
Cain’s class ring didn’t exactly blend in with the caliber of jewelry the women inside were sporting, but I wasn’t willing to take it off or store it in my purse and risk losing it.
The foyer was just inside the front doors, which were held open by soberly clad servants, and the whole place felt more like a museum than a house. The busts and small statues on display columns, combined with the marble floors and lighting, made me half expect to see a group of tourists bustle through while a guide explained how such and such’s nose was a perfect example of third-century nostrilism, or something.
I stifled a giggle at my own joke. It definitely wouldn’t do to start laughing. I mean, it was a wake, after all. And something told me this crowd wasn’t really big on the guffaws, even in less somber times.
Back to the ‘house’, it reminded me a bit of Henner’s house. He’d inherited a giant old pile of a manor on the outskirts of Haven Hollow, though he never once called it that. While Henner’s place was piled high with stuff from previous generations, including clothing, artwork, and books (not to mention his gadgets), Erepto manor seemed to be stuffed with priceless statues and artwork.
I’d take Henner’s cozy hoarder’s nest over this pristine, sterile and hollow house, hands down. The place was giving me the heebie-jeebies.
Follow the crowd. The main gathering seems to be through that door, over there.Cain made my left pinky twitch slightly.
It had been weird at first, letting Cain have control of my body. Also, extremely uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong, I’d gotten zozzled a few times, to the point where my feet didn’t want to do what my brain was telling them. Having Cain in control of my body was a whole other thing. But the more time we spent together, the easier we seemed to fit. Like two boulders rubbing together until they wore a groove and fit like puzzle pieces.
It was also kind of neat to have someone watching my back. Literally.
I turned smoothly, following the flow of foot traffic like I’d never hesitated. We moved through a huge arched doorway and into some kind of receiving room. There were couches and settees arranged around the perimeter of the room, all of them upholstered in the kind of eye-searing white that made me nervous to sit on them, afraid the dye in my skirt would suddenly decide to abandon ship and leave a big ink stain in the shape of my rear.
There was a huge oil painting hanging on the far wall, over the white plastered fireplace. Magda Erepto glowered down onto the room from within the frame, her dark green eyes seeming to follow me wherever I walked. Enormous vases were set up on either side of the fireplace, filled with white lilies. More floral arrangements filled the room, including wreaths, bouquets, and enough vases to outfit a good-sized florist shop for a year. And all of the flowers were, yup, you guessed it, white.
Were the extremely wealthy allergic to color or something? I liked a bold monochromatic look as much as the next dame, but I still appreciated a pop of red or daffodil yellow. That’s what kept things from feeling like a hospital.
I took a glass off a nearby servants’ tray, and almost goggled when I realized it was red wine. Apparently, the Erepto’s liked to live dangerously—what with all the white everywhere. Or else it was a power play, keeping their guests on edge, knowing that any accident or spill would be on lurid display for everyone else to see.
Sounded exhausting.
I took a sip from my glass, camouflaging the fact that I was really taking a quick peep around with more than just my eyes. I was still holding out a shred of hope that maybe Magda’s spirit might decide to crash her own wake. I would have, if I’d been able to. If only to see who showed up and what they all had to say about me.
There was no sign of the old lady, but I did get the cold wind prickle of ghostly energy somewhere in the house, so I mentally crossed my fingers that it was her. Maybe she’d gotten spooked (no pun intended) by the summoning and had just returned home. Being dead was really disorienting. I didn’t even know how long it took me to realize what had happened. Of course, my brains might have been a little scrambled by Frank shooting me between the eyes. The no-good louse.
Anyway, Sophia Erepto was dressed like a model on a runway in her designer black dress that swung just past her knees. That was completed with a little black jacket edged with beads that looked like chips of mica in the light of the chandelier. She caught my eye across the sea of people between us, and hers narrowed into dangerous slits.
“So, who do you think it will be?”
The question, not quite whispered, but pitched low enough to attempt not to be heard, caught my attention. I drifted over to the group of younger people, all of them about the age I was when I’d died, who were dressed like they’d just returned from a Halloween party—I believed the style was referred to as ‘goth’. I, meanwhile, attempted to look like I was examining one of the huge sprays of flowers at the edge of the room.
“My money’s on Manos. He’s been working for it for decades.” The young man tossed his hair back with a practiced flick.
The young woman who’d first asked the question laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. “Are you kidding? Aunt Sophia would drown him in the pool before she let him take over.”
Another young man shrugged, tossing back the contents of his own glass. “Who cares? Everything will stay the same either way.”
“Don’t you think it’s weird that there hasn’t been an announcement?” The second girl gave a nervous glance around. I could feel her eyes on me for a moment before they moved on, dismissing me. “Like, it’s been three days. What are they waiting for?”
The first man to speak smirked. “I’ve heard the idol is missing.”
The others all leaned in closer.
So did I.
Chapter Five
“What?” one of the kids said to the statement that the idol had been stolen.
“No way!” the other replied.
Other people around me seemed to be taking notice of the conversation, and after a few furtive glances, the kids realized it and decamped to a less busy corner. Phooey.
