“Come inside,” I said, leading the way into the foyer. “The weather is nicer in here. Don’t mind the banshee, though.”
Cornelius hesitated on the threshold. “You didn’t mention a banshee, only a ghost.”
“I was kidding.”
“You’re a physical medium, Violet. You shouldn’t joke about things that could come true at any moment.”
“Good point. No more joking until we’re back in the car. Now get in here.” I grabbed his sleeve and pulled. “Trust me, you don’t want to make Prudence wait.”
Chapter Four
No sooner had I closed the door behind us, the deadbolt locked on its own with a loud clunk.
“Fuck,” I whispered and stepped back, bumping into Cornelius. “That wasn’t me.”
“I’m beginning to understand the Tall Medium’s trepidation about entering this edifice.”
I turned my back to the door, facing the shadow-filled length of the narrow hallway. The entryway to the kitchen on our right was dark. Ahead on the left, the dim glow from the sitting room’s lamps added an eerie atmosphere to the scene that had hairs standing up here and there all over my body.
“Enough of this spook show,” I muttered and flicked the light switch next to the door.
The wall sconces and overhead chandelier stayed off.
The light at the end of the hall dimmed further.
“What the hell?”
Cornelius sniffed. “Do you smell vanilla-rum custard and honeycomb cake?”
I didn’t even know what honeycomb cake was, but I’d certainly like to give it a try now that he’d mentioned it.
I sniffed a couple of times, picking up the usual scent I associated with this hair-raising house. “I smell plain old vanilla. The rest is your stomach playing tricks with your mind.”
“You should have let me eat before bringing me here.”
“You’ll live a little longer without protein.”
I flicked the light switch back down, figuring it was a two-way toggle offset by another switch somewhere else.
The foyer lights stayed dark. The light coming from the sitting room extinguished entirely, leaving us neck-deep in shadows.
Beelzebub’s balls! That wasn’t a good sign.
I hated coming into this damned house.
I reached for Cornelius, who hadn’t moved since I closed the door behind us, and latched onto his coat sleeve. His breathing was steady yet, more so than mine.
My eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness. Faint light from the front porch trickled through the fancy etched window in the door, allowing enough light to drape everything in shades of gray.
“Soooo,” I said in the heavy quiet surrounding us. “Tell me more about this Mercury going retrograde snag.”
“What do you think you are doing?!” Prudence’s voice sliced through the shadows, her Mid-Atlantic Eastern accent sharp with disapproval, reminding me of Katharine Hepburn chewing out poor Rooster Cogburn.
I turned toward the sound of her voice. In the dim light, I could see the outline of Zelda at the other end of the narrow foyer, blocking our way. Only something wasn’t quite right. She looked crooked, her arms and neck at awkward angles.
“There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile,” I recited the first line of the goose bump–inspiring poem that Natalie used to whisper to me when we were kids. She’d wait until after everyone else had gone to bed and we were alone under the covers with only our flashlights to keep the monsters away.
Cornelius covered my mouth with his cold hand. “If you speak the rest of that poem, a demon in the shape of a crooked man will be summoned.”
I pushed his hand away. “That’s just an urban legend.”
“Legends are usually based on truth.”
Zelda, or rather Prudence, took a couple of lurching steps in our direction, her arms and legs moving awkwardly.
Cornelius let out a high-pitched mewling sound. “She looks like a scarecrow.” His voice sounded higher than usual. “You said nothing about a living scarecrow in this house.”
“Officially, Prudence isn’t living.”
I heard the click-creak-click of the door handle. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll wait outside.”
“We have a deal.” I turned and clamped onto his arm. “You’re not leaving.”
“I’m certainly not staying here with that.” He unlocked the deadbolt and tugged. The door didn’t budge.
“So, she looks like some kind of zombie scarecrow in the dark. What’s the big deal? It’s just a woman possessed by a ghost.”
“I have a strong aversion to scarecrows.” He jerked his arm away, pulling free.
“You’re kidding me. After all of the freaky shit you’ve encountered, scarecrows are your kryptonite?”
He grunted. “Why won’t this damned door open?”
“Because I will not permit you to leave,” Prudence the scarecrow said, her voice right behind us now.
Cornelius let out a squawk, struggling, kicking, and muttering at the door to no avail.
I rubbed my forehead, not sure if I should help him try to escape or slap some sense into him. This was the first time Cornelius had ever panicked in front of me, and we’d faced some scary shit together. Hell, one night in the haunted Homestake Opera House he’d stood toe-to-toe with a spiky bitch whose bite was way worse than her bark, and he had the scar to prove it.
“Cornelius,” I said, taking hold of his arm again. “You need to calm down. Prudence is not going to hurt you. Are you?” I looked back into the whites of Zelda’s eyes and frowned. At least I hoped not.
“I have not determined what punishment I will perform upon this scoundrel.”
“He’s not a scoundrel.”
“I hate scarecrows!” Cornelius put his foot on the wall next to the door and yanked on the handle.
Sweet creepy-crawlies! “You’re going to rip the dang handle off if you don’t calm down.” I tried to pull him away from the door, but he was incredibly strong for a stick insect.
“You should not have trespassed,” Prudence said with a deep snarl, red-lining my spook-ometer gauge. She tore off Cornelius’s Cossack hat and threw it behind
