Pain shot through the right side of my head. “Ouch!”
I pushed Zelda off of me and looked up at the ceiling while lightly tapping the area around my right eye. My cheekbone throbbed like a son of a bitch and my right hip ached from using it as a landing pad.
The sound of groaning filled the foyer.
Oh wait, that was me.
“Violet?” Cornelius leaned over me, his blue irises facing front again. “What on earth are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” I scrambled to my feet. “I was trying to pull Prudence off of you, that’s what.” I reached up and palmed his face, turning his head one way and then the other while searching for any leftover effects of Prudence’s possession. “Are you okay?”
“Prudence says the Collector is fine,” Zelda said from where she sat slouched against the wall—and this time it was actually Zelda’s normal voice.
The what?
“You’re back,” I said, looking down at her bowed head. Her auburn hair shielded most of her face. I was afraid to touch her, though, not trusting Prudence. She might take control of Zelda once more and bend my hand backward again.
She nodded, pointing at the dark kitchen entryway. “But Prudence is still here with us.”
“Why isn’t she doing the talking anymore?” And pulling the puppet strings?
Zelda raised her head and stared toward the kitchen for a moment. “Prudence says the Collector sapped her energy.”
There was that word again. “What does she mean by ‘the Collector’?”
Zelda repeated my question to the kitchen. After a few seconds, she looked at me. “Prudence says to tell you that your ability to hear is as lacking as your fighting skills.”
“Fuck her.”
“She doesn’t approve of your vulgarity or your grumbletonian temperament—those are her words, not mine.” Zelda’s forehead creased. Her eyes widened with concern. “Violet, what happened to your face?”
I touched my throbbing cheek below my eye. It felt swollen and hot. “Prudence happened.”
Cornelius began to whistle “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” while settling his Cossack hat back on his head with the help of the hallway mirror. One would never guess he’d been crushed against the door a short time ago by a possessed woman who’d licked his ear.
“Prudence, what did you do to Cornelius?”
Zelda pushed slowly to her feet. “She says she merely took a closer look at your friend.” Her petite form wavered a little. She held onto the wall for support. “Oh my, what happened while I was out? I had such an unusual, horrible dream.”
“Is that normal when Prudence takes over?”
“Not at all. She always leaves me feeling full of warmth and energy. Well, until today.”
Cornelius did a little jig in front of the mirror and tittered. “Violet, let’s go dancing.”
I gaped at him. “Did you just titter?”
“Do you know how to tango?” He did a spin on the foyer rug. “I haven’t bitten on a rose stem in ages, but I’m sure the steps will come back to me once we hit the dance floor.”
I looked back at the kitchen entryway. “You broke my friend, Prudence.”
“She says you are in error.” Zelda rubbed her elbow—the one that had connected with my face. “On the contrary, he nearly broke her.”
How could that be? She was the one who was manipulating him and Zelda.
“Prudence, what makes you think he’s hiding anything?” I glanced at Cornelius, who was now inspecting one of the glass wall sconces while humming. “You’re not hiding anything, are you, Cornelius?”
“Only my lucky cannon.” He tapped on the sconce. “Is this really Tiffany glass?” Before Zelda or I could answer, he turned to me and said, “Violet, we’re going to need to stop for a shake when we leave here. I have a craving for vanilla ice cream—the French custardy kind, made with eggs.” He blinked and leaned closer to me, reaching toward me with his bony fingers. “Hey, what happened to your face?”
I slapped his hand aside. “Who are you and what have you done with the real Cornelius?”
“Prudence says that your friend doesn’t appear to realize what he has locked away in his mind.” Zelda hobbled toward the sitting room as if each step hurt.
“What does she mean?” I asked her backside. Did it have to do with the death of his cousin? “Tell her that if this is about what went down in Louisiana years ago, I already know—”
“She says this has nothing to do with the loss of the other channeler.”
I exchanged frowns with Cornelius. Prudence must have found his memory about the exorcism his cousin had tried to assist in as a channeler. The poor girl had ended up possessed herself and died a short time later when Cornelius and several others attempted to free her from the entity’s hold.
“Prudence, what the hell is going on?”
“She says that when your friend arrived,” Zelda called out from the other room, “he brought guests.”
“What guests?” I could swear we’d come alone.
“Prudence claims they’re waiting outside on the porch at this very moment.”
I joined Zelda in the sitting room, marching over to the window where she’d been standing when we arrived. I parted the curtains. The porch was empty. The porch light flickered several times as I stared out the window. “I don’t see anyone.”
Cornelius followed, bumping shoulders with me. “I don’t see anyone either.”
“Prudence says that you both are blind.” Zelda yawned from the couch. “Do you mind if I lie down for a few minutes?”
She didn’t wait for our response, stretching out on the burgundy leather couch cushions, her feet not quite reaching the other end of the couch. She covered her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry to be such a terrible host. If either of you would like some butterscotch cookies, I have a fresh batch in the cookie jar on the kitchen table.”
Cornelius didn’t need a second invitation.
After he’d left the room, I moved over to the
