Lena was a nurse, and on call, so she was drinking soda. I poured myself more rosé, and Cristian, ever the martyr, agreed to a glass just so he could complain that it was adeeplydisappointing beverage.
Lena rolled her eyes. “And yet you keep drinking it.”
He muttered something about the mediocrity of modern winemaking and kept sipping.
While I tried to decide between a movie or sleep, Lena started snooping. She scanned shelves and poked through drawers as if she was casing the place.
“Lena,” I warned. “No snooping.”
She ignored me completely.
I was about to suggest a movie when she gasped loud enough to startle Cristian. He’d been flipping through an old atlas, looking deeply insulted by the concept of Australia.
“What did you find now?” I asked.
She stood at the far bookshelf, grinning mischievously. “A Ouija board. Hell yes. Let’s talk to the ghosts. It’s Boston. There’s at least one pissed-off Puritan in here.”
“No.” I pointed my glass at her. “Absolutely not. I don’t do ghosts. I live with enough paranormal already.”
She ignored me, of course, and took candles off the mantle. “Come on, you love this creepy aesthetic. You live in a haunted mansion. You basically invited this moment.”
Cristian straightened in his chair, expression darkening. “You would summon the dead for amusement?”
Lena turned, eyes wide. “Whoa. I forgot Count Passive-Agressula was still here.”
Cristian’s jaw tightened. “Do not mock what you do not understand.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Now you’ve offended the vampireandthe spirits. Fantastic work, Lena.”
But she was already at the coffee table, setting the board down, muttering to herself about ‘ambiance’ while nearly setting her sleeve on fire.
I gestured at her with my wineglass. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the woman who’s supposed to save your life in an emergency.”
Lena didn’t look up. “Technically, I just stabilize them until someone who gets paid more shows up.”
“Well, that’s comforting.”
I knew I wouldn’t be getting out of this, so I downed the last of my wine, poured myself another, and took a seat at the table of death. Cristian’s eyes followed Lena’s movements, then flicked to me. I could feel the bond tugging faintly at my chest—awareness pulling us closer even when I wanted to stay still.
Lena was in her most chaotic energy. Me, nervous but pretending otherwise. Cristian, hovering just behind me, arms folded.
“Spirits of the beyond,” Lena said dramatically, “give us a sign!”
At first, nothing. Then the air shifted. The chandelier gave a faint groan. One candle flickered.
I froze. “Lena?—”
“It’s working,” she whispered.
“No, it’s just?—”
The planchette moved.
I jerked my hands away. “Did you do that?”
Lena grinned. “Obviously not. It’s him.” She pointed at Cristian.
He looked insulted. “I am not touching it.”
