Page 78 of The Sisters of Crimson House

“Of course,” Margaret Humphreys said, not sounding reassured in the least.

Sadie walked to the door and cracked it open a peep. Charley watched over Sadie’s shoulder. She was Sadie. She was Margaret. She was powerless to help either one.

“You okay, Mama?” asked Nicole Bryde from the hallway, her violet-blue eyes big with concern.

Sadie nodded at her, forcing a smile.

“Mommy!” sang the voice behind her, and they both turned to smile at the intrusion.

“Miranda, be quiet for Mommy. Sadie is working,” said Nicole, turning to hush her three-year-old, who hung around her mother’s knees.

Miranda smiled, holding her arms up to her mother, desperate to be held.

“I’m fine,” said Sadie. “Sad session, is all. Sad stories on such a sunny afternoon.” She briefly rested her jeweled palm on her daughter’s large pregnant belly, sharing a smile with Nicole as she felt the baby kick. “You should go enjoy this sunshine. Soak it up with the girls.” Nicole smiled up at her mother, carefully hoisting Miranda up so that she rested against the swell of her stomach.

Charley felt the floor collapse from beneath her feet. She was falling. She was in Sadie’s parlor. The room was close and dark, a slight haze hanging in the air from the scented candles. Sadie stirred a cup of tea with a delicate spoon, Margaret Humphreys mimicking the gesture with her spoon and matching porcelain cup. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, dear,” maintained Sadie, sipping her tea. “You were looking for what was lost. Let’s see if we can find it together.”

Charley could feel Margaret’s pulse as it fluttered birdlike in her chest. She could feel it spike as her confusion set in, the dizziness as she set down her mug of tea. The tea tasted strange; her throat felt stranger. Her embarrassment was hot as the spoon clattered to the ground, her legs no longer seeming to work. Charley felt the fear as if it were settling into her own bones when she tried to get up from her seat. Sadie told her it would be all right over and over when it wasn’t all right. It would never be all right. Sadie wasn’t helping her at all.

Margaret fell to the ground, her hands grasping at the potted ficus in the corner, then grasping at nothing. She lay on the floor of the study, the pain consuming her throat nothing compared to the pain of knowing that she and Osiris would never see those salmon-pink buildings in the setting sun like Sadie had promised.

***

Charley’s hand throbbed, the pain the only thing keeping her anchored to her body, to her sanity. She felt the atmosphere shift around her, a wave of nausea overwhelming her. She wasn’t in Sadie’s study anymore. She was now inside another car, the darkness her co-conspirator as she drifted ghostlike down the driveway. Headlights off. Scanning for the neighbors who were always watching, always judging, the ones who would be thrilled to bear witness to this infernal errand. The ones who insisted that the Brydes did not belong on Elizabeth Street. They’re probably right, thought Charley as she glanced in the rearview mirror, Celeste’s ghostlike face staring back.

The smell of damp earth and cobblestones filled her nostrils. A red eye glowed in the darkness followed by a deep exhale. It would be any minute now, thought Celeste, thought Charley, taking another shaky drag off the cigarette, the red embers glowing in the darkness. Her hands shook, fingers caked in grime, her face streaked with tears. She stood on the riverbank where the Wolf River confluence surrendered to the Mississippi, a muddy thrashing of currents and driftwood and God knew what else in the soup. Only a few more seconds until the burlap sack, bound with heavy rope and weighted with stones, disappeared into the mire, a watery grave swallowing up a life, someone’s universe, a network of family secrets. Knowing what the future held in store for everyone was a terrible burden, Sadie had always said. But the Brydes all had responsibilities, thought Celeste, watching the water take Margaret Humphreys from sight, the water that would eventually take her sister, her brother-in-law, her mother in a quest to settle the karmic balance. This burden was hers.

Thirty-Nine

November 1, 2008

“Enough!” screamed Charley. She didn’t know if anyone could hear her. She just didn’t want to see anymore. As if in response, the pain in her hand burned brighter.

Charley was on the kitchen floor. She felt the floor underneath her, her bloodied hand singing with pain. She suddenly listed to the side, her insides twisting as she threw up on the linoleum. She shakily wiped off her mouth, her head throbbing. Charley slowly stood, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter until her head cleared. Her eyes landed on the knife block. The butcher knife was gone. So was Miranda. Charley quickly grabbed the long, thinner knife from the block, the one whose function had always eluded her but whose meaning now was clear—stab or die trying. Charley made her way from the kitchen into the entryway, feeling vulnerable in the wide-open space. The portraits of the Bryde family women stared down at her. She’d always felt the aloofness of their stares, their judgment. But now she realized she had never known these people at all.

A thud brought her back to her senses. There was a sound coming from Sadie’s study. Charley slowly made her way through the darkness, blood rushing in her ears. She tried not to breathe, terrified to give away her presence. She reached the threshold of the study, straining her ears for any sound, when a hand grabbed her ankle. Charley screamed, falling to the floor, her knife clattering. She kicked at the hand, scooting as far away from the doorway as she could get when she heard her name.

“Charley.” The voice came weakly.

Charley grabbed the knife and crawled back to the parlor, her hand finding a pool of blood seeping from her aunt’s head.

“Celeste,” Charley breathed, hovering around her. There was so much blood. She was lying on her side, blood pouring from a blow to the back of her head. She tried to move, to look up at Charley, who desperately glanced around the parlor for something to stop the bleeding.

“I’m sorry,” Celeste managed, her voice barely a whisper.

“No,” said Charley, furious, leaning over her. “You don’t get to do that now. It’s not the time for that,” whispered Charley, furious. “After we get you to a hospital and you’re all better, then you can apologize.”

She needed to get to a hospital. All your loved ones were at the hospital, came the thought as she rushed around the parlor, desperate to find something to stop the bleeding. She had to get Celeste to safety before Miranda struck again.

“Charlotte.” Celeste’s voice was suddenly so sharp and strong that it stopped her in her tracks. She knelt by her aunt’s side. “It was always supposed to be this way,” she said, her eyes meeting Charley’s.

“Miranda killing you?” Charley refused to believe this. Forget this prophecy bullshit. Not everything was foretold.

“Not Miranda,” Celeste insisted. “It. Your sister saved your life, over and over.” Her breaths came in ragged gasps now. “The entity came to claim you, and your sister claimed it instead.” Celeste took Charley’s hand. “Because of what Sadie did. What we did. There was always going to be a price to pay.”

She was in Sadie’s room, the woman in black closing in. Sadie in her tub, vulnerable and small. She did not fight. She seemed almost to welcome her fate as Miranda’s hands closed around her neck, slowly pushing her under. Miranda’s face a mask. Miranda wearing the face of a killer. Miranda writing a message in Sadie’s blood on the wall before the entity mercifully released her.

Oh God.