Page 67 of The Sisters of Crimson House

Celeste looked at her, silent tears falling down her scarred cheeks. “I did. I’m sorry that I failed you, Charlotte.”

“I don’t want your apologies, Celeste,” Charley said bitterly.

“But I owe that much to you,” Celeste said. “To both of you.” Celeste took a tentative step toward Miranda. “Let me help you.”

“Look at your face!” screamed Miranda over her. “If you don’t leave now, I can’t promise either of you will be safe.” Miranda took hold of Charley’s arms, and Charley flinched. She was in the house with the dead little girl, her sister with the black eyes trying to choke the life out of her. “She’s awake, Charley!” Miranda said. Awake. The word literally surrounded them, like they stood in a temple to Miranda’s insanity.

“Who is awake?” Charley asked her. Charley’s vision haunted her like a fever dream. Celeste holding Miranda by a bonfire, a dark ritual that had killed Celeste, consumed her sister.

Caroline.

“The one who wants to kill us at all,” said Miranda. “Mom knew how to sing her to sleep. To keep her dreaming. But she doesn’t want to stay asleep.”

“Mom?” said Charley, horrified. What did their mother have to do with this entity? “Mom knew Caroline?” she asked, desperate to understand.

“I’m so tired, Charley,” Miranda said, her voice shaky with fear. “I’m trying so hard to make her go away. I keep lighting the candles. The light keeps me safe…” A volley of tears washed away her thoughts.

Caroline makes it go away.

Charley looked from her sister to her aunt. “What does Caroline want with us? Please. The truth this time. I think you owe me that.”

After a long moment, Celeste nodded. “The entity has been hunting our family for a long time.” Celeste studied the Star on her palm. “The stronger the magic, the more it seemed determined to stop us. It nearly succeeded when it killed your parents,” said Celeste quietly. Charley felt her knees weaken. Her beautiful parents were murdered. Hunted.

“Your grandmother and I had different ideas of how best to protect our family going forward. So Miranda and I left. While we worked, we searched for answers. We looked for practitioners, medicine women, priests, anyone with knowledge to help make the entity leave us for good,” said Celeste, her eyes meeting Charley’s. She could smell the fire. Hear the woman’s screams. Miranda’s laughter. Caroline’s laughter. “We were not successful,” said Celeste finally.

Miranda’s hands shook as she now had hold of Charley’s.

“I thought I had killed you,” she whispered to Celeste.

“That wasn’t you,” said Celeste softly. “That was the entity.”

“I was the hand holding the knife that tried to kill you.” Miranda dropped Charley’s hands to take a tentative step toward Celeste. Charley could see she didn’t dare get any closer.

“It was safer to let you think I had died,” said Celeste quietly. “To let it think I had died.”

Tears coursed down Miranda’s face, and she nodded.

“All this time, you thought she was dead?” Charley asked Miranda, incredulous.

Miranda buried her face in shame, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Now it made sense why Miranda had deflected questions about Celeste if not downright refused to talk about her. In her mind, she had been a murderer. Charley risked a glance at her palm, the four lines of the Star visible in the candlelight. She was back in that room with Sy, both of them seeing her sister transform into a monster.

“She woke up. Celeste was dead. So I ran,” said Miranda, sounding far away. “I didn’t know where I was going, but I ran until I came here. And this is where I’ve been all this time so I couldn’t hurt anybody else.” Her bold and brave sister, reduced to this pitiful creature. It nearly broke her. “Until the nightmares started about Charley,” she said. “All I knew was that it was time to come home, no matter the consequences.” She grabbed Charley’s hand again, and Charley shrank back, hating that she was terrified of her sister. Hating the fresh pain she saw bloom in her sister’s eyes. “Look at your hand. It’s opening the doors. It’s only a matter of time until it lets you see who I really am.”

“And who are you?” asked Charley gently.

“A killer,” she whispered.

“But Celeste is alive,” insisted Charley.

“You just need to let me go,” Miranda whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself like she was struggling to hold on. “I’m trying so hard to make her go away, Charley,” she sobbed. “I don’t know how much longer I can.”

“What I know is that you don’t get to tell me what I think,” Charley said. Of course Miranda was dangerous, Charley thought, remembering the sensation of those fingers squeezing the life out of her. But Miranda didn’t get to jump ship again, not on her terms. Charley looked at the Star forming on her own palm, an unfolding universe whose mysteries had yet to be revealed. “I know you’ve convinced yourself that you’re supposed to go through all this alone,” said Charley, willing her sister to look at her. “I get it. But even I managed to talk some brilliant people into taking me on despite their better judgment.”

Miranda swayed slightly, her gaze wavering. She looked impossibly fragile, like she might break just from breathing.

“Just come home.”

Miranda gave her a tiny nod, indicating she’d heard—that she was still with them.