Sheriff Martin glared at her,rolling her jaw from side to side thoughtfully. She wasn't buying Hazel's act.Sheriff Martin had been a deputy when Benedict left home, and he wasn't theleast bit surprised to see her in charge now.
"My mother passed awayrecently. We just came home for the funeral," Elysium explained."This was a lot to take in, and we didn't want my uncle to wake up topolice in his home and dead bodies outside. His health hasn't been well. Wethought maybe we could wait a few hours to gentle the blow. We did put sheetsover the bodies and closed off the upstairs study."
Sheriff Martin appearedmonumentally unimpressed. "I've met Vernon Lyon," she said, deadpan."I doubt all the sirens in the world would phasehim."
Benedict took a step back,stomach knotted, and ready to get as far from this charade as possible.
Just then, the sheriff's gazesnapped to him. "You," she said.
Benedict froze.
Hazel glared at him frombehind the sheriff's shoulder, a thousand threats and warnings in her gaze—allsounding something like, "Don't mess this up."
"You were home when ithappened?"
"Yeah."
The deputy at the tablestudied him, and then scribbled more notes.
"You see anything?"the sheriff asked.
"I heard the shouting lastnight, but when I went to see what was going on, Elysium told me to go back tomy room and stay there. So I did."
Sheriff Martin narrowed hereyes on him, staring hard. "You don't look like someone that does whathe's told."
Benedict almost laughed atthat. "I do when I'm in this house." He swallowed hard when he saidit, suddenly worried he shouldn't have. Was he making their home sounddangerous? Wasn't it?
"You have nothing toadd?" the sheriff pressed.
"No,ma'am."
She glared but nodded stiffly.It felt like a dismissal, and Benedict was more than happy to go. Anotherdeputy was in the foyer, taking pictures of bloody shoe prints on the glossyhardwood, leading up the stairs.
Emmeline stood to the side,watching the man work with casual disinterest.
"Can I go upstairs?"Benedict asked.
The deputy jumped, clutchinghis camera in both hands like a shield. He huffed abreath and a thin laugh when he saw Benedict. "Um.Give me another minute."
Benedict nodded, standing backand leaning against the wall. He could go into the parlor. Or maybe just gooutside and take a walk and hope all of this disappeared by the time he gotback. The others had been smart to stay shut up in their rooms when the policearrived.
"Never thought I'd beinside the Lyon house," the deputy said, taking another picture, the flashflaring through the hallway.
Benedict looked up, surprised.
The deputy continued to work,making his way upstairs one photo at a time. "Sorry. It's just… When I wasa kid, we used to dare each other to come over to your house. We were suchchicken-shits; I don't think any of us made it more than two steps past thetree-line onto the property."
Benedict leaned back againstthe wall. "What did you think would happen if you reached the house?"
The deputy paused midway upthe staircase. He glanced at Benedict, and then looked back out the front doorsbefore he could stop himself.
The coroners were putting thefirst body into a thick plastic bag, struggling to fit her broken limbs inside.
Chapter Twelve
Benedict sat at the table inthe parlor with his siblings, cousins, and uncle, marveling at how they had alldressed up. They always dressed up for séances—three-piece suits or gowns. Itwas their church, he supposed.
They were minutes frommidnight, and candles held the room aglow, crowding every surface. The fincheschirped to themselves in the cages in the corner. He imagined they found thedisplay unspectacular. They were used to oddities by now. Or maybe they hadsimply never cared for what happened outside their frail metal bars. Benedicthad never seen any sign of interest from them nor anyof their predecessors.
He glanced across the table,over Uncle Vernon's shoulder, at the closed doors of the dining room.
Lucy would usually lead theséances. She had a knack for it, or maybe just practiced showmanship in theart, but not tonight. She hadn't said more than a few words since Benedictwalked into the room. He still didn't understand why she had created and brokena seal knowing what it would do to that woman. Had she panicked? He had spent agood deal of time today thinking about his sister and her illustrious career asa spiritualist. How much of it was actually dealing with ghosts, and how much wasfortune-telling and wowing her audience?
Hazel took his hand, startlingBenedict. Everyone followed suit, and soon they were all holding hands at thetable and closing their eyes.
Benedict was the last. Alleyes had closed but his, and he stole a glance at Emmeline where she sat in thechair under the birdcages. She met his gaze.
"Should I leave?" sheasked.
He wasn't sure. Would theysense her if they gathered like this and tried to weed out the ghost in theirhouse? Would they find his ghost instead? Did he dare send her away and goblind into this? He shook his head once and closed his eyes.
Hazel spoke softly, her voicefilling the quiet room. "Aunt Gloria," she called. "We know youare in pain. We know you are lost. We will see you safely home, but you mustmake yourself known."
They waited. Hazel said itagain. Another length of silence, and then a third time.
Thesame words, the same patient tone, and the sense that Hazel would continue to gentlydemand her aunt's presence until dawn if she was not answered.
"Aunt Glor—"
Uncle Vernon jerked, the legsof his chair sounding on the floor just before he sucked a deep, wheezingbreath. Benedict opened his eyes, staring across the table at the old mansitting between Theodore and Elysium. They had opened their eyes, too.
"I am not alone."Uncle Vernon heaved the words as though they'd come up in coughs from his lungsrather than formed against his vocal cords.
"Is she with you,Dad?" Hazel asked him.
He rattled another breath,eyes unfocused. "I am not alone. You are not safe. You cannotleave."
Luis squeezed Benedict's righthand. He had forgotten his brother was there until then.
"Mother?" Luiscalled, all of his need and heartache cracking his voice.
Uncle Vernon jostled in
