Page 75 of The Sisters of Crimson House

“We have to call an ambulance,” she said.

“I’m on it,” said Celeste, who had her arms wrapped around Miranda, already escorting her toward the exit. Her sister looked lost, seeming oblivious to the chaos erupting around her. But she currently wasn’t Charley’s main worry.

“You’re losing too much blood,” she said, her hands hovering around Sy’s shoulders, not touching. Already his face was pale, and he swayed on his feet.

“Here,” said Zavier, stripping off his jacket and tossing it to her. She balled it up, trying to press it against Sy’s shoulder blade. So much blood.

Zavier hovered over Astrid’s body. She lay curled around the crown that had fallen off her head in the melee, her body frighteningly still.

“Is she okay?” called Charley.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice a whisper.

“She needs to go to the hospital, too,” Charley said as Zavier scooped her up off the floor. Astrid looked like a little doll in his arms.

“There’s no time,” Zavier said, looking back at Sy, who was panting, his shirt encased in blood. “Can you walk?” he asked. Sy nodded, wordlessly. “Then let’s go. I’m driving them.”

“Let me take you,” demanded Charley. One unconscious, one bleeding out, and Zavier didn’t look much better.

“Watch your sister,” Zavier said pointedly, already charging toward the exit. With a parting look at Charley, Sy followed them out of the parlor.

Charley walked over to a chair that had been kicked over in the panic to flee Crimson House, slowly righted it, and sat down. A white feather boa soaked up a pool of red wine on the floor. A lone patent leather high heel lay scattered on the carpet, like a low-rent Cinderella wannabe.

She rubbed at a dot of red on her arm, watching in surprise as it smeared under her finger. Was it her blood? Sy’s? Her sister’s? All she could think was Of course. Of course this was the only way tonight could have ended. She wondered if anyone else had been brave enough to come to the door for Halloween candy, if anyone would ever ring the doorbell of Crimson House again.

Thirty-Six

“I’m sorry about your friend.”

Celeste sat at Miranda’s bedside in the dark of the Emerald Room, her head bowed and hands folded in her lap as if in prayer. Still in her dress, Miranda was out cold, pale and drawn as she lay sprawled across the bedspread. Charley watched this tableau, the doorframe the only thing propping her up amid her utter exhaustion.

“Which friend? Because currently three of them are at the hospital.”

Celeste did not respond.

“You knew that thing was going to show up tonight?”

“That was the idea, yes?” she said, pointedly looking at Charley. “I believe we both discussed the plan.”

God help her, she was going to murder her aunt before the entity would ever get another chance.

“But you knew it could turn my best friend homicidal!” she hissed at her.

“I have to allow for all possibilities.”

Charley paced the room in an effort not to scream. “You could have clarified the risks, Celeste.”

“I am not a crystal ball, despite your beliefs about me, Charlotte,” she said. “I had hoped that Miranda would be able to contain it again. But the spirit she let in before…” She paused before giving Charley a pointed look. “I don’t believe we discussed that part of the plan.”

It was her turn to feel sheepish. “It wasn’t. I don’t know what happened.”

“Margaret Humphreys happened,” said Celeste, her words clipped. “She created some unexpected distractions. So the entity went after your friend instead.”

Instead? Jesus, how could she have been so stupid? “You needed bait in whatever form it took.”

“I needed a miracle, Charlotte,” snapped Celeste.

“But you didn’t tell me that Astrid could be a possibility,” said Charley, exhaling her frustration. “Maybe next time share the contingency plan with the rest of us so we can prepare.” The plan had been for Caroline to be trapped by the great and powerful Miranda Bryde. Not possess the humble tour guide who sometimes saw dead people.