Page 34 of The Sisters of Crimson House

Good. The fire in her veins gave her something to focus on.

The heat rose in her body as she worked to let her mind expand. Her mom had explained to her once that it was concentrating intensely and staying open at the same time, like letting your vision go soft while staring at an object until it lost all visual meaning. She was trying to picture what Sy had drawn on that piece of paper, but all she was seeing in her mind was the rotting face of the colonel.

A low, deep buzz suddenly filled the theater, like angry bees about to swarm. Charley shielded her eyes as the house light just above them began to pulse and flicker, steadily growing brighter and brighter, the buzz getting deeper and louder until—nothing. The buzz abruptly cut off, leaving the auditorium in complete silence.

“Whoa,” said Sy quietly. “Ruby?”

“Probably just the hundred-year-old wiring,” she replied softly. The lights and the weird sound were gone. But it didn’t feel like they were alone.

The house lights suddenly cut out, and light poured from the projector booth, the machine whirring to life as it flooded the screen with flickering images. It was nearly impossible to see against the onslaught, but she could just make out Sy staring into the back of the room, shielding his eyes against the light. It was hard to be certain, but she could swear she saw a dark figure sitting in the back row, watching them.

“Hello?” Sy called out. He started walking toward the exit.

“Where are you going?” Charley stood up from the chair onstage. It was just some weird noises and lights, but Charley really didn’t want to be left alone.

“To turn off that projector and see who else is here with us.”

Sy was halfway up the aisle when the door to the theater flew open. Miranda paused in the entry like a supermodel about to strut the catwalk. A very angry supermodel.

“What the hell are you doing with her?” If looks could actually kill, Sy would’ve been incinerated to dust on the theater floor. Charley felt grateful she wasn’t the target this time.

Instead of responding, Sy wheeled on Charley, furiously walking back toward the stage. “You didn’t tell me your sister was coming.”

What the hell indeed. Charley looked back and forth at both of them in surprise.

“You’re not answering the question, Osiris,” said Miranda, drawing out the syllables mockingly as she followed him toward the stage. From where she stood, Charley could see Miranda was shaking with fury.

“Your sister came of her own volition, Miranda. Why don’t you ask her what she’s doing here?” Sy refused to look at her, busily making a show of retrieving the folder from where he’d hidden it. He examined it now, glancing at Charley. “And speaking of, the challenge is completely null and void with this many interruptions.” He spat out the word like Miranda was contagious.

“So you guys know each other?” Charley asked, again realizing that she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Sy sneered at Miranda. “I have an entire chapter in my thesis devoted to her. ‘Medium-Rare: When the Cold Reader Took the Con International.’”

But Miranda ignored the taunt, finally making eye contact with Charley. “We can have this debate at a later time, but right now, you both have to leave. It’s not safe here if it isn’t already super obvious.”

Sy scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. It was just some faulty wiring in an old building.”

Not getting anywhere with him, Miranda turned to Charley, desperate. “Charley, she’s here.”

“Who is here?” said Charley, alarmed by her sister’s panic. In her lifetime, she’d been treated to a virtual wellspring of Miranda Bryde’s many dismissals, too many slammed doors to count. Miranda had never once come back to find her.

Before Miranda could respond, the projector died, plunging the theater into darkness. Charley couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, the darkness was so absolute. Her other senses fired to life; her ears rang with a high-pitched whine that seemed to be building.

“Miranda?” she called.

“Charley, I’m going to come up to you, okay?” Miranda called out from the darkness. “Just stay put.”

“What bullshit is this now, Miranda?” yelled Sy from several feet away. Charley couldn’t see Sy’s face but didn’t have to guess at his state of mind. “Just admit you turned on the projector and messed with the lights.”

“Sy, not now. Charley?” Miranda said, and Charley was struck by the fear in her sister’s voice. “I’m coming up the stairs now. Just hang on.”

“We’re right here,” said Sy, his face suddenly lit up like a ghost. Charley jumped, Sy mere feet from her now. He held out his phone, its illuminated screen creating dark pits where his eyes should be.

I’m awake.

Charley whirled around. The whisper was in her ear. Or was it from the back of the theater? The utter darkness confused all her senses.

“Who’s there?” He heard it, too. Sy held his phone aloft, giving them just a few seconds of an empty theater before the phone’s light cut out again, plunging them into darkness. “Stupid phone.”