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“Yeah, I got it from Francesca’s! I figured we shouldn’t do a seance on an empty stomach.”
“Babe, it’s not a seance! It’s a cleansing ceremony!”
“Seance is so much catchier, though!”
“You’re impossible,” Dante mutters lovingly.
“Is this everyone?” he asks.
“Not quite!” my mother declares as she descends the staircase. She’s wearing a sheer, black organza gown with a high neck. Her hair is clipped in an elegant chignon.
“Now there’s some ghost-hunting realness!” Dante hoots.
“Mother, you look like you’re going to a ball, not an exorcism.”
She shrugs, “I wanted to look my best. Beatrix has given me hell for long enough!”
“Category is Creep couture,” Evan deadpans.
Eleanor laughs so hard she snorts.
Evan rolls his eyes, “What, am I not allowed to be funny?”
“No, it’s just unexpected.”
“Well, tonight, I’d say we should all prepare to expect the unexpected. You never know what happens during a seance, I mean, cleansing ceremony,” Dante warns. Eleanor nods gravely, “I’m ready for whatever tonight will bring me.”
“Dante, where do you want me?”
“Head of the table, you’re the boss.”
A wicked grin overtakes my mother’s sharp, aquiline features. Her blue eyes sparkle: most would mistake it for a look of mischief, but I know her better than that. She wants something deeper and darker: Iphigenia Idylewylde wants revenge.
Dante runs his thumb along the edge of the ribbon.
“Well then, shall we?”
“Let’s end this bitch,” my mother declares. Eleanor clamps a hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh. I grab her hand and squeeze it, helping her into one of the high-backed brocade dining room chairs.
She rests her hand on her belly and smiles when she feels a kick. Eleanor’s growing every day.
She grabs the diary and thumbs through it fondly. “It’s weird; when I got this job, I knew nothing about the Idylewylde’s or Weatherby Island. I feel like I know Beatrix now. She almost feels like a friend to me, even if most of what she does is try to strangle me.”
“I can’t tell if that’s sweet or Stockholm syndrome,” Dante says.
Eleanor shrugs, “It’s a bit of both.”
Evan ducks beneath the dining room table and unearths three tall, black candles from a box at his feet. Dante and Evan place each candle in the silver, pewter candle holders clustered at the center of the dining room table.
Dante retrieves a silver zippo lighter from his pocket and flicks it open. He lights each candle as Evan dims the lights. For a moment, the room is filled with the warm, buttery glow of candlelight on a cold winter’s eve, casting shadows of garland onto the walls.
“Well, then, Eleanor, would you do us the honor and call Beatrix forth?” Dante asks.
Eleanor nods.
“Go ahead and place your hand on Beatrix’s Diary,” Dante instructs.
Chapter 21
