Page 58 of The Sisters of Crimson House

“I guess when you have a ton of money, you can put anything in a frame,” said Charley.

“I think when the kids finally left the house, the owners were excited to show off all their collectibles. It didn’t always look like this,” said Sy, looking around the room. “Not so museum-like and stuffy.” If she didn’t know better, she’d say he sounded defensive. Nostalgic.

“You knew the family then?” she asked, trying again. “I thought you were from Texas.”

“Ended up in Texas,” he corrected. “Moved around a bit as a kid. The Maguires were a family connection. But surely you know them?” he said, that same cryptic smile returning. It was identical to the one he’d given her at the tarot reading when he was clearly in control of the narrative. “They’re Old Memphis money.”

Maguires. It was a very familiar name. But so many names with money had flitted through Crimson House over the years.

“They’ve experienced things they can’t explain and suspect there’s something supernatural behind them.” He smirked at her. “Naturally, given my area of interest, I wanted the chance to investigate.”

Charley wasn’t sure she was following. “So what are we in for exactly?”

“We’re going to walk through the house and see what bubbles up for you.”

Charley looked at him, confused. “‘Bubbles up’? This doesn’t exactly sound scientific.”

“The idea is that you could share your impressions of what you see and hear, and if they trigger any more of your…” He flexed his hand self-consciously. “Reactions.”

Ah. Now she understood. “The stigmata thing.”

“Aren’t you still interested in proving your abilities?” he asked her. There was a dare in his eyes but also something else. Fascination. The way he looked at her made her face go warm.

Click, click, click. Their eyes drifted upward as footsteps echoed overhead.

“Sounds like my first test has arrived,” Charley said.

“That’s your sister, isn’t it?” said Sy.

“Yep.” A charged moment, as she wanted to talk to him alone. To prove he was a liar. To have him touch her hand and see what new mystery unfolded in her palm.

“This way then.” Sy beckoned toward the stairwell, and she and Astrid followed.

They made their way to the second-floor hallway, the walls painted a warm taupe offset by period brass light fixtures. “Feel free to just walk around and investigate,” said Sy, already bypassing the myriad rooms and heading toward a stairwell on the opposite end of the hall.

Charley jumped as Miranda materialized over her shoulder, drifting into the first bedroom on the left like she was just another ghost on the tour. By default, Astrid took the primary bedroom on the right. Instead of choosing the third bedroom, a guest room from her very cursory glance, Charley joined Sy at the end of the hallway, who was seemingly entranced by the stained-glass window above the stairwell. It was not the Sturm und Drang of the mythological scenes at Crimson House but a gentle garden motif, a white rabbit nestled in a garden of green lettuce, kissed by the orange glow of a sunrise on the horizon. Sy took something from his pocket and handed it to her. Her tarot deck. His hands were back in his pocket before she could even register he’d moved.

“I studied all the cards,” he said softly. “They are extraordinarily beautiful. But I didn’t see what you see,” he said, meeting her eyes. “No duplicates or shape-shifters. Just cards.”

“I looked at those cards, and I saw them change,” she said. She knew it sounded insane, but she wasn’t going to let him call her that.

“It’s not possible,” he said.

“You’re going to tell me that I’m crazy and that my sister is a liar.”

“Your sister is a liar,” he said calmly.

“How could you think otherwise?” she said, her frustration mounting. “You have it out for our family.” Small wonder her sister had felt threatened. He was relentless. He’d told her that the day they met.

“Why won’t you ask me the question you want to?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. Now who was the liar? Her face grew warm, stoked by her anger. How was he always able to throw her off her game? “Why do you do this?” she asked, exasperated.

“Do what, exactly?” he said. His lack of a reaction made her even angrier. Up close, his eyes were the blue of an ocean flecked with gold.

“Spend this much energy hating us?” It wasn’t the most elegant of questions, but it was honest.

He took a deep breath and committed to looking at the ground, the wall, anywhere but at her.