Page 55 of The Sisters of Crimson House

“Uh,” began Charley.

“Well, as you know, Laverne,” said Astrid smoothly, “the Bryde family are legends in the divination field. Their public demonstrations of their abilities were the hottest tickets in town, and we’re excited to bring back the Spectacular to a new audience.”

“And old fans,” said Laverne with a smile. “I was there the year Miranda channeled Mary Shelley. Made me a convert for life.”

“Why don’t you give us a demonstration?” said Jeffrey Rogers, finally uncrossing his arms and participating in the interview. Roger was the perennial bad cop to Laverne’s overall positivity, typically perking up for interviews involving only fishing or the NBA, and he certainly didn’t seem in a rush to disprove the reputation. “Is my grandpa Morton lurking around, wanting to say hi?”

“There will be plenty of demonstrations at the Spectacular, Roger,” Charley heard herself saying. “Miranda will channel guests at the audience’s request, Astrid will share with us the history of the spirits in Crimson House, and I will be dipping into the past and the future with some lucky guests.” This has been the one thing they agreed on in the car on the way over. All business, no tricks. Ever since the fiasco with the Lovells, Miranda had been decidedly off, clearly in no state to demonstrate her abilities. And Charley? She glanced at the two lines of her palm. She honestly had no clue what she could do on command. Improvising, cold reading had always been her go-to. The emerging star on her hand certainly made her feel like she could bluff her way through her portion of the evening, but she didn’t feel like risking that on live television.

Lucky guests, eh? How lucky are we talking?

Charley startled to attention, looking at Jeffrey Rogers, who continued to stare at her, stone-faced.

What a load of bullshit. Laverne is just straight up bringing Satanists on the show. My God, when did we get so desperate? I can only imagine the boycotts from this garbage.

Charley felt her face go hot. Satanists? And more importantly, was she hearing Jeffrey’s thoughts?

Though the Satanists do look rather tasty, especially the tragic one on the end. I wonder what kind of demonstrations she’s up for?

“As I told you, Roger”—Charley fairly spat his name out of her mouth—“the demonstrations will be for paying guests at the Spectacular.” Astrid subtly squeezed Charley’s leg in surprise. “Guests who are respectful of our time and our talents,” Charley added, glaring at Roger.

Laverne looked between her cohost and guests with growing discomfort. She smiled uneasily at Charley. “Charley, why don’t you tell us again about some of the history of the Spectacular and what guests can expect inside Crimson House?”

Did this bitch just read my thoughts?

“Why, yes, Roger, this bitch did just read your thoughts,” snarled Charley in response, standing up from the couch.

“What are you doing?” Astrid said through clenched teeth.

Charley felt a hand grab hers. Instinctively, she tried to shake it off. She wanted to take this man down for his disgusting thoughts, for his smug condescension. But then she felt a surge of energy start in her palm and spread throughout her body. She turned and looked at the hand Miranda was holding. Her sister grinned up at her like the devil herself couldn’t be prouder of such a diabolical plan. Miranda gave her a wink and shuddered, and then she folded in on herself, like she’d fallen asleep. Everyone turned to look at Miranda, who had gone very still. Laverne looked at Charley and Astrid with growing concern.

“Is she okay?” asked Lavrene.

Astrid put a tentative hand on Miranda’s shoulder.

“What is this place?” asked the voice. It was high and reedy. Quavering with age. “What is this place?”

Everyone turned to look at Charley, who was still standing, staring at Roger, but now with confusion.

“Roger?” the old woman’s voice was a whisper from Charley’s lips.

Laverne’s eyes widened as Roger’s narrowed.

He folded his arms with contempt. “What the hell is this?”

“Who are we speaking with?” Laverne asked excitedly.

Astrid looked to Miranda, still inert on the couch, and then to Charley with alarm.

“Roger?” Charley asked again, but it was not Charley’s voice coming out of her body.

“Can you tell us who you are?” asked Laverne again.

“This is ridiculous,” said Roger. “Pretending to be an old person. Did I not just mention my grandfather?”

“Roger?” came the voice again. “Can you help me find my ring, Roger?”

At that, Roger stiffened like all the air had left his body.