Anotherthump. A door slapping against awall?
Emmeline stood beside thedoorway, staring at him. She hadn't made an appearance since the game with thecards hours ago. "Don't go," she whispered.
Anotherthud. Someone hitting the wall?Or stomping on the floor downstairs?
Benedict pulled on a t-shirtand padded barefoot toward the door. "What is it?"
"Don't go," she repeated, eyes big and head shaking. "Don'tlook."
A chill ran up his spine, andhe hesitated at the door, staring at the knob. They had been through at least ahundred hauntings and séances together. What could be worse in his own house? What would he see that could be that bad?
Anotherthump downstairs. He threw the door open and hurried intothe dark hall. Elysium and Lucy emerged from their rooms almost at the sametime.
"Go back to bed,"Elysium said to them both, first to the foyer.
Neitherlistened.
The thudding grewlouder on their path to the dining room.
The scent of cigarette smokemade Benedict's stomach knot. It wasn't the brand Theodore smoked—it was theirmother's favorites. Elysium paused at the doors, and Benedict knew it must havehit him, too. And then he threw them open and they were all marching into thelit dining room.
Lucy inhaled so sharply thather whole body jerked back a step.
A woman sat on the diningtable, arms gloved in fresh blood up to her elbows. Thick sprays of redspeckled her face and neck, staining the front of her uniform. She stabbed along kitchen knife into the table beside her thigh, fingers twisting around thehandle. She stared, unblinking, at the wall of family portraits in front ofher.
A thick smear of bloodcolored the floor where a man had fallen and dragged himself to the other sideof the room. Shaking, he reached up, smacking his palm to the wall once more ina desperate plea for help.
"Lucy," Elysiumcalled their sister but didn't take his eyes off the woman. Lucy hurried acrossthe room. She grabbed the man by the shoulders and turned him over, softassurances flowing from her lips like a sweet river.
It was the same man who hadcarried Benedict's bag into the house yesterday. His shirt and vest were soakedwith blood, more bubbling up from his lips when he tried to speak. Lucy pushedher hands against his stomach to stop the bleeding, but it came up faster forher efforts, leaking between her fingers.
"What have youdone?" screamed the woman sitting on the edge of the dining table.
Benedict and Elysium jumped atthe sudden outburst, but she wasn't looking at them.
Her mouth opened wide,dragging in a breath that shook her where she sat. "What have Idone?"
She stared at the familyportraits, tears streaming down her face, dragging the spray of blood into thinstreaks of pink.
"Madam?"Elysium spoke, voice stern, one hand out in a calming gesture.
She began to turn toward him,but her attention snagged on Benedict. He held his breath when he met her gaze.There was something alarmingly familiar about the way she stared at him. Herexpression softened, tears still bright in her eyes and her mouth trembling. "Idid it for you, boy," she whispered.
Elysium made a chokingsound—it was the first time Benedict had ever heard it. He grabbed Benedict'sarm and pulled him a step back and behind him. "Mother?"Elysium said loudly.
Her gaze slashed to him, lipscurling. She pulled the knife from the table and slid from the edge, landing onher feet in the puddle of blood. It dripped from her, oozing out of the gashesin her uniform.
"Holy shit,"Benedict hissed. "I think she stabbed herself…"
The woman ignored him. "She'sstill here," she told Elysium, voice distorting, and Benedict couldalmost hear it—almost hear their mother's voice echoed in this woman's throat. "Whatdid we do?"
"Mother, please,"Elysium tried to soothe. "Look at what you're doing. These people don'tdeserve what's happening."
She blinked back at him almostlazily, head tipping to one side. "No one's getting out. Not them. Notyou. Not him." She cut her gaze to Benedict, and he jumped.
"Enough," Elysiumsnapped. "You will leave this house. You will not linger and degrade yourspirit like this."
"Myspirit? Or our name?" shelaughed.
Elysium balled his hands,glaring at the woman—through her and into the spirit that infected her."Get out," he ordered.
Her laugh dwindled, but asmile remained. It was their mother's smile, the sharp one they all knew toowell. "You've met your match, boy. I trained you well. You're betterthan the rest. But not better than me."
"Leave this place!"Elysium's voice rose, and Benedict winced back—but the woman possessed by theirmother didn't flinch.
"I was wrong,Elysium," their mother said in the cruelest whisper. "Wewere all wrong. You're wasting your life, pulling weeds in the forest for godsthat do not care. We are bullies, distorting the natural order for our ownpride."
Benedict waited for Elysium tospeak, to command her to leave again, but he didn't. His brother stared at thewoman, stunned.
"Stop it," Benedictspoke up, trying to step around Elysium, but that jarred his brother, the otherman moving quickly to keep him behind. "You're hurting people. You couldkill them. Just leave."
She didn't look at Benedict,not even when she spoke. Her gaze was fixed on Elysium, as though she meant toentrance him like a cobra. "Am I hurting people? Am I killingthem?" she asked, mock sympathy dripping from her words.
A rush of movement across theroom drew Benedict's gaze. Lucy was on her knees on the floor, beside theinjured man but not tending to him. No, there was no point. He was dead—nolonger gasping for air through a mouthful of blood but staring sightlessly atthe ceiling, face twisted in terror.
Lucy moved her hands acrossthe seat of a chair, drawing circles and runes with globs of thick, red gore.She wrote something in the middle.
"Wait…" Benedictbarely got out the word before she stood, picking up the chair. The lightgleamed off the blood she had used for paint, and he saw their mother's nameshining there. "It's a possession not—" he tried, but she swung the chairand broke it against the wall.
It wasn't the ghost thatscreamed—it was the woman she had possessed. Elysium's eyes flared in alarm,and he reached out for the maid, but it was too late. The spirit clung ontoflesh and bone, the spell swirling around her in a gale,
