Page 76 of The Sisters of Crimson House

“There is nothing you could have done to prepare. We hoped it would be here tonight, and it was. My job is to help keep it contained,” Celeste insisted. “I failed, and I am sorry.” She rubbed at her forehead, a meager attempt to ward off a migraine. “Astrid will be okay.”

“Is that a psychic prediction?”

“She won’t have to worry about this happening to her again.”

“How can you say that? How did this even happen in the first place?” Her mind raced, knowing that Astrid was on her way to the hospital, just like Charley’s parents all those years ago. Astrid, whose lemon-squeezy exterior couldn’t hide the shrewd but kind leader she was. The one who was always on Charley’s team. The one who had been taken over by a monster.

Celeste sighed. “It knew.”

“What do you mean?”

“It knew we were expecting Miranda to be its vessel. It found another conduit in its midst. Clever sneak attack, I must admit. Your friend is very open to the other side, and she was virtually helpless against it.”

Charley thought of Astrid’s face, her dead eyes, that knife raised to strike. Blue fighting to protect her from herself. Another thought brought a fresh wave of dread. “The police are going to show up. I don’t have sway with them like my next-door neighbors. There’s going to be an investigation.” Two hundred people had crammed into this house and then scattered after witnessing an attempted murder. Astrid attempting to murder Charley but stabbing Sy instead. What universe did she wake up inside of?

“We’ll be gone in the morning,” said Celeste, her eyes on Miranda as she slept on, oblivious.

Charley didn’t have the energy to protest. She couldn’t even find the energy to be surprised. Of course, Celeste was leaving when the shit hit the fan.

“There will be too many questions to answer. Miranda needs to be somewhere where she can concentrate on getting stronger,” she said. “Before the entity can hurt her or anybody else.”

“Uh-huh. So I handle damage control, and you’re back to running, Miranda the professional decoy. When does it end?”

“It ends when the entity is safely contained.” Celeste gave her a hard look. “That is her responsibility, and this is yours. We all have our duties as members of the Brydes, Charley.” Sadie’s party line. Her grandmother was dead, and they were still playing by the rules of a game no one had bothered to explain to Charley.

“Do what you feel you have to, Celeste, but just promise me one thing,” said Charley, turning to leave.

“What do you mean?”

“Let her say goodbye before you go this time. Please.” The please hurt, but she was not taking any chances.

Celeste looked at her for a long moment before responding, “I promise.”

***

Around 3:00 a.m. Charley stopped pretending that sleep would be an option. Zavier had last called around 1:00 a.m. and said that Astrid had finally gotten a room at the ER and was asleep, no more seizing and, more importantly, no sign of the “murderous thing.” It was encouraging news for Astrid if Celeste’s assurances were true, but that also meant that the entity could be anywhere. That went double for Sy. He’d ridden with them to the hospital, but Zavier had lost sight of him after trying to flag down help for Astrid. Charley just hoped that he wasn’t dead. Or maybe it was better he was. In one evening alone, she’d given him enough information for him to write his entire thesis, if he was even still a student at all.

Charley made her way into the kitchen, filling the kettle and turning on the stove with its satisfying click-click whoosh with the gas catching fire. Maybe if she left the burner going the kitchen would catch fire and spread to the entry, finally engulfing the main staircase and eating all of Crimson House into oblivion. If she were to be forced to leave, then nobody could have it. She felt heavy with loss, with failure. She was the self-appointed guardian of this proud house, its incredible legacy, and she had failed it. There was no going back from the utter disaster that was the one and only Bryde Sisters Spectacular. They couldn’t have handed their neighbors, city planners, and the police a better excuse to shut them down if she’d planned it.

She rooted around in the cupboard for some tea, not ready to supercharge herself with the cold brew Astrid kept at the ready in the fridge. Astrid. Her heart ached at the thought of her friend at the hospital. Her innocent friend caught up in the spiderweb of a family curse she couldn’t even begin to understand. Celeste and her cryptic answers just begged more questions. Where would Celeste take Miranda? How was that even a safe idea, the two of them together in Miranda’s vulnerable position with the entity able to attack her whenever it wanted? Charley tried to breathe through her anger. Miranda had just gotten home, and now they were forced to be on the run again. Would they even bother to tell her where they were going this time?

The kettle began to boil, and she grabbed an oven mitt before pouring the water over the only decaf tea she could find stashed in the upper cabinet. She set the mug down to steep and willed herself not to think about tomorrow, a panic attack hovering at the margins of every breath. She had just a few quiet hours left in the dark before everything changed, so she willed herself to stay present on the now. The kitchen island under her hands. Steam curling from her mug of tea.

She studied the label on the box of RelaxTime Tea. Undoubtedly she’d glanced at it a hundred times on her way to spoon sugar into her coffee, paying little attention to the folksy illustration of the peaceful old woman in her rocking chair with her glass of iced tea. Say goodbye to hectic days, RelaxTime Tea’s matriarch promised. Caroline makes it go away.

Caroline makes it go away.

Caroline makes it go away.

CAROLINE MAKES IT GO AWAY in Sadie’s blood scrawled across the bathroom wall.

Charley’s hands shook as she stared at the box as if willing it to speak. She gasped as the lines on her hand responded in kind, the pain radiating out along her palm and down her wrist. She startled at the sound of something too close, coming for her. Miranda stood in the doorway to the kitchen, shrouded in darkness.

“You’re awake,” Charley said dumbly. She couldn’t see her sister’s eyes. She did see the butcher block full of knives just an arm’s length away from the kettle. Just in case.

“I woke up,” came her reply. Her voice was the sound of a heart stopping. Doors closing. Time ceasing to exist.

Miranda walked into the kitchen, her eyes wide and black, focused on Charley’s.