“You’ll see soon enough.”
In the light of day, the place is probably gorgeous. The three-story Queen Anne Victorian is right out of a magazine of old restored homes. A porch wraps around the entire front, save for the turreted area at the far right of the stately white house.
I could probably get on board with calling this place home, but the wooden sign that readsMoradi Mortuaryis a deal breaker.
I do not sleep under the same roof as the dead.
That is, until recently.
“I take it the nail salon isn’t a family business,” I mutter.
“Nope.” Corinne pops thepfor emphasis. “I went through this phase several years back where I took a stab at normalcy.”
“I see it didn’t work out.”
Nina snickers and Corinne’s lips pucker, her hands raising to her hips. “If you haven’t already put it together, I was the weird girl whose family dealt in death, and my mom proclaims to anyone who will listen that she communes with spirits.” She barks out a humorless laugh. “I practically had a neon sign around my neck that saidfreak.”
The snark that usually accompanies anything that leaves Corinne’s mouth is absent, bringing to light that there’s more to this girl than meets the eye. This life must’ve truly been rough for her.
Nina’s hand squeezes my arm. She recognized it too.
“I paid my way through cosmetology school and roped my savvier twin into branching out with me.”
“How did the ’rents take that?” I ask, running my free arm down my jeans to remove the building perspiration on my palms.
“What do you think?” She pulls her shirt back in place, covering her shoulder, while staring at her childhood home. It makes me wonder how often Corinne comes here.
I can imagine a family of mortician psychics would be none too pleased to add nail tech to their manifest.
“And ‘ ’rents’?” she continues. “Please refrain from attempting to be cool. Nobody has said that since 2010.”
I press my lips into a thin line, refraining from engaging with her barbs. It will only delay the inevitable and I just want to get this night over with.
“She isn’t wrong,” Nina chimes in, earning a pinch in response. “Ouch.”
“We need to hurry. My mother does not abide tardiness.”
The three of us scurry up the concrete stairs leading to the front porch. The door swings open, and I don’t even have time to process that there doesn’t appear to be anyone around to haveopened it. Corinne is shuffling us through the main parlor to a door that leads to the basement.
“No way. Not going there,” I say, halting my steps. “I do not plan to see dead people.”
She rolls her eyes. “You see dead people all day. Grow up.”
“I’m with Alyssa on this one. Nothing good ever comes from following strangers into a dark funeral home basement.”
Corinne blinks. “Is that a situation you’ve found yourself in before?”
“Well, no—”
Corinne cuts Nina off, staring her down. “You’re not even supposed to be here, and we need to get a move on.” She steps aside, motioning for us to go first.
Nina shakes her head slowly, mouthingDanger. I roll my eyes and head down the stairs, practically pulling Nina behind me.
“How do you even get bodies down here?” I whisper, for reasons unknown to me. Do I fear waking the dead? Possibly. Who can rationalize my actions these days? Certainly not me.
Corinne doesn’t oblige me with explanations, pulling us further into the bowels of death and decay.
“You’re so damn dramatic,” Corinne says, reading my thoughts.
