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The bookseller smiles at us when we enter the building.
“You’re here for Dante, aren’t you?” he asks.
“Yeah! How did you know?” Eleanor asks, looking vaguely frightened.
“He told me this afternoon. Don’t worry, I’m not the psychic one.” He chuckles at his joke.
“Dante’s office is right through here,” he adds, leading us through a door that reads “STAFF ONLY” down a narrow hallway. A tiny room to the left looks like a break room, and a vestibule filled with stacks of books.
“Ignore the stock room. It’s a mess. You’ll want to go up here,” he unlocks another door, revealing a rickety narrow staircase.
“It’s the first door on the right. You can ring the bell when you get up there. He’s expecting you.”
“Thank you,” I say as the bookseller heads back down the hallway.
The stairs are so narrow we have to form a line and go up one at a time. The staircase creaks from my weight, and a puff of dust pops up as I climb.
“This is kinda creepy, don’t you think? It’s like a path to an inferno.”
Eleanor scoffs, “You’ve been waiting to make that joke all morning.”
“Maybe. Still, you have to admit it’s unsettling.”
“It’s not as creepy as the attic,” Eleanor notes. She fiddles with her new necklace. She bought a new one and has kept it in a drawer beneath the bedside table while she sleeps.
“Fair,” I say as we wind our way upstairs. Three flights later, we arrive at a tiny hexagonal room. A deep indigo carpet covers the wooden floors. The air smells like herbs, and there’s a sun catcher in the window. There’s also a tiny wooden desk with a floral print shawl draped over it.
“I’m a little disappointed that there’s no crystal ball,” I joke. Eleanor elbows my ribs as she rings the tiny silver bell.
“Eleanor!” A voice booms. Dante arrives in a swirl of silk and rose-scented incense. He’s wearing a purple silk top with a deep-V and black trousers. A large golden Ankh hangs around his neck with a loose gold chain, contrasting his olive complexion. He’s got high cheekbones and large green eyes. His long, dark, curly hair rests against his shoulders.
“Come, right this way!” he instructs, leading us to a tiny back room with three velvet chairs around a round wooden table.
“I want to start by giving you both an energetic reading. It’ll help me see how the energy from the house is interacting with your energies. If you’d both take a seat,” he gestures to the chairs.
I sit down and try to relax. I take a deep breath and ignore the throbbing in my forearm. Eleanor fiddles with her necklace.
“Isa’s Apothecary?” Dante asks.
Eleanor nods.
“Excellent choice. Now, I understand that you did some ritual work. You washed the floors; is that correct?”
“It didn’t work! And that bitch stole my necklace!” Eleanor blurts.
“I think some animosity toward Beatrix is warranted at this point. Now, before we start, I want to let you both know that I did not grow up here. I didn’t know anything about the house or any of the legends until I was in my twenties when Henry first contacted me. That’s to say, my opinion of the house is mine alone.”
Dante levels me with a steely gaze, “What we saw there was not for the faint of heart. Idylewylde Hall is encased in dark energy. Even with the two of you just sitting here, I can feel the darkness radiating off you like an aura.”
I try not to roll my eyes when Dante says ‘aura.’ I’m desperate for answers, but this all seems so woo-woo.
“Joseph, I’d like to start with you.”
Dante’s gaze is piercing, like he’s peering into my soul. He holds his hands, and I place my good hand in his palm.
“You look just like your father,” Dante says softly. My heart drops. I want to ask Dante what my father was like, but I also don’t want to know about his last days. If he felt as terrified as I do now, that’s not how I want to remember him. I don’t want to hear about how the house terrorized him or if he spent endless sleepless nights wracking his brain about how he could protect his wife and child— I’m living that.
“Now, I’d like you to close your eyes and count to ten.”
