Page 69 of The Sisters of Crimson House

“What questions are those?” asked Celeste.

Charley looked into Celeste’s dark eyes, the ones that could see someone’s future with a glimpse, a touch of her hand revealing the accident that would end them, the heart attack that would cut them down. She didn’t like the way Celeste was looking at her now.

“Why Mom and Dad died the way they did,” she said finally. “And why Sadie was killed. What does Caroline want with our family?”

Celeste studied her for a long moment.

“The entity appeared the day you were born, Charlotte.”

Charley went still. “Why?” she whispered.

“It’s like a dog sniffing out magic, determined to destroy it,” Celeste said, haunted. “I’ve never encountered anything darker.” Celeste exhaled, as if speaking could free her of the memory. “The day of your birth,” she hesitated. “We were unprepared,” she said. “You had no defenses, no Star on your palm, no psychic shields. But that turned out to be your magic,” Celeste said with a rueful smile. “We had no way of knowing then that it made you invisible to any entity that would wish you harm.”

Charley looked at her hand. All this time, the thing she’d hated most about herself was her saving grace?

“Invisible?”

“Maybe invisible isn’t the right word,” she said, searching. “Of no use,” she offered, wincing by way of apology. “You had no open channel to command, no direct way to possess your soul. But then here came your sister,” Celeste said softly. “It was said that her most powerful gift was inviting the spirits in. Her real power was not letting them out.”

“I don’t understand,” said Charley. A growing horror at where this was headed.

Celeste shifted, uncomfortable, finally meeting Charley’s gaze. “It means that on the day of your birth, your sister invited the entity in, and she never let it out.”

Charley reeled with this information. Never let it out. The passengers, always stopping by. Except this one never left.

“How was this even possible?” she gasped. Her toddler sister, too young to understand the choice she was making.

“Your sister is the most powerful medium I’ve ever encountered,” Celeste said. “And we’ve traveled the world looking for better. If I were a spirit looking to become stronger, I would want Miranda to be the conduit.”

“But what do you mean, she won’t let them out?” Charley asked. Images flooded her brain, each more horrible than the next. A woman in black, a creature hell-bent on destroying. Her sister locking it away inside a psychic prison. “So, she was the jailer for this spirit?” Even more impossible—“Mom and Dad were okay with this?”

“Yes.” Celeste curled into herself on the chair, and Charley was struck by how tiny her aunt looked. Vulnerable despite the battle scar that made her look like a warrior. “The entity was too dangerous and didn’t respond to typical banishments and boundary spells. You saw this yourself,” she said pointedly. “It was decided that instead of you and the rest of our family being hunted by this thing, Miranda would proceed as its guardian.”

Guardian, Charley thought incredulously. Like a babysitter or a benevolent guide. Not someone who had jumped on a live grenade.

“What do you know about your mother, Charley? About her gifts?”

Charley fell into a puzzled silence, thrown by the abrupt switch in topic. “She could heal with a touch.”

Celeste nodded. “She could soothe ailments, sing a sickness to sleep. But there were other things she could sing to sleep.”

Her beautiful mother, the poet, healer. “Mom sang it to sleep?”

“Your mother ensured that it couldn’t escape. She and your sister saved your life.”

Her sister, her tormentor—her savior. The image of her sister seizing and bleeding out on the floor flashed through her mind.

“Until it got out,” Charley realized aloud. “The night of the Spectacular.”

I’m awake.

She’d blown out a candle and woken up a nightmare from its slumber.

Forgive me. Protect her. The words in the Bryde book flashed in Charley’s mind. The symbol scrawled on the Star on the floor. All this work to protect her, and it had all been for naught. Like they were literally fighting destiny. “It killed Mom and Dad, Celeste,” she said with a cry. The pain never left. It threatened to overwhelm her. “Why?”

“It was only a matter of time until it did,” said Celeste quietly, and the knowledge was a hammer breaking Charley’s heart in two.

“You knew,” said Charley. Jesus, she knew. Her parents were going to die at the hands of that thing, and they’d let it happen.