"I didn't know I had anoption," Benedict countered.
"You didn't," Lucyconfirmed, patting his cheek before going back to the table. She reached out,and Theodore passed her his cigarette.
"I heard you've got a newTV special coming out," Benedict said, crossing the floor to awkwardlyshake hands with Theodore. They had never been particularly close. Benedict wasevasive, and Theodore wasn't interested in anyone not interested in him.
Benedict made small talk in aroom with the three most powerful spiritualists of their time, his relatives,and then glanced up as Emmeline walked around the room. She considered thefurniture, the birds in their cages, the old paintings in gaudy frames with thesame arched brow and pressed lips as Benedict had worn when examining theWhittle house. He glanced between his brother, his sister, and his cousin, apart of him waiting for one of them to sense Emmeline—to see her, even. Butthey didn't.
They talked about Theodore'spublic persona, the soft, understanding medium and how contrary it was to theasshole they had all grown up with. Theodore enjoyed his own duality."Honestly, I like coming home," he admitted with a wide-lipped grin."It's the only place I can really be myself. It's exhausting being thatgood."
Lucy laughed loudly, andElysium and Benedict smiled.
Emmeline wandered closer, observingthem all. "You smile like him," she noted.
Benedict glanced at her beforehe could stop himself, masking it by pretending to look about the room.
She was still watchingElysium. "Do you have the same father, or do you both take after yourmother?" she asked, knowing he couldn't answer. Honestly, he wouldn'thave known how to even if he could. He had no idea who their fathers were, orwho Lucy's was, for that matter. Mother had never said, and he had never heardany of his siblings talk about it. Non-Lyon blood didn't matter. He supposed,though, looking at Elysium, that they did look a lot alike. They were nearly adecade apart in age, but they shared the same build, the same brown skin, darkbrown eyes, and delicate jawlines.
"Have you added Mother'spicture to the wall, or do we do a ceremony for that?" Benedict asked,trailing from the parlor through the open double-doors and into the largedining room.
"No, Aunt Gloria is upthere," Theodore said.
They all followed him, but heonly really intended to lead Emmeline. He came to stand in front of the wall offamily portraits. The dead were placed here, watching over the living at everymeal. It might have felt eerie if the family wasn't all keenly aware whenghosts were actually watching them. That is…all ghosts but Emmeline.
They were better mediums thanBenedict by far, and yet, not one batted an eye at the dead girl dancing aroundthem. Were they all faking it like he was? Did they each have a ghostwhispering in their ears? Working as their eyes into the spiritual realm? No.If that were the case, Emmeline would see them—and they would see Emmeline.
"I'm surprised she didn'tpick a younger photo," Benedict laughed, pointing up at the portrait hungon the wall. Emmeline came close and leaned up on her toes to examine it. Thegilded frame had a plaque with the name "Gloria Andrea Lyon"and her date of birth and death below. It was a good likeness. Severe. Her silver hair was braided over one shoulder, headturned a little to the side, but her hazel eyes fixed on the viewer with asecret pulling at the corner of her lips. He wasn't sure if she meant to frownor smile. She had been a healthy-looking woman in her late sixties, necklacesweighing down her chest and a stiff jacket holding her shoulders back.
"She was proud to havelived as long as she did," Elysium remarked, standing behind him for amoment to consider the portrait as well. "She said she didn't want anyonelooking at this wall in fifty years and thinking at a glance that she had diedyoung."
"Sixty-seven," Lucyremarked, leaning against the dining table. "You know, in most families, that's still pretty young."
"Well, most familiesdon't fight ghosts in their spare time," Elysium reminded.
"And witches,"Benedict chimed with a wry smile.
Lucy shot him a glare. "Anasty spiritualist who got herself possessed… Mother never liked when youcalled that woman a witch."
"But the story soundedbetter that way," Benedict argued, turning his back on the wall of theirrelations. "You broke your arm that time, didn't you?"
Elysium smiled tightly, tryingnot to, maybe. "You were little. I'm surprised you remember."
"I was terrified,"Benedict laughed. "Mother dragged me to an old house with a crazy womanand a bunch of ghosts she'd bound to her."
"That's not all shedid," Lucy reminded. "She was putting souls into dead things to bringthem back to life."
"Trying to,"Theodore corrected.
Lucy turned toward him andgawked. "No. She did it."
"No, she didn't,"Theodore protested.
"She did," Elysiumand Benedict confirmed. Benedict had never recovered from the sight of thoseundead cats. He still twitched when he heard a meow.
Theodore held on to hisskepticism for a second longer before shrugging. "Well, then I'd call hera witch, too."
"Mother said there were no such thing," Elysium maintained.
"She even had a spellbook," Benedict recalled, expecting Lucy to getexcited at the reminder and maybe go hunting for the thing. When they had comehome from that particularly nasty cleansing, his mother had kept the book andlocked it away someplace. Lucy had hounded her for years about wanting to seeit.
But his sister didn't light upat the reminder like he had expected. In fact, she stilled, the air pushingfrom her lungs in one big gush. Everyone froze for a second, and then Theodoreblew smoke into thick rings and waved his hand about to dissipate it. "So,if the baby is finally here," he gestured to Benedict, still the babyat twenty-eight. "Can we get this funeral rolling?"
"Ina rush to get back to Hollywood?" Lucy asked thinly, thepunch of her words gone.
"London, actually,"he corrected and led the way toward the back of the house.
Benedict turned only partwaytoward the doors, pausing to look out the
