Page 49 of The Wishing Game

Her eyes widen, and we both gaze up at her scowling brother.

"You know you're not allowed to eat this." He grits his teeth. Barking an order at the waiter, he hands him the plate, throwing a couple of hundred-dollar bills toward him.

"We're done here." He levels his sister with his icy stare. Yet just as I think Thea is going to protest—as she usually does—she hangs her head in resignation as she gets up from the table.

"What's going on?" I ask as I follow after them.

Cer doesn't stop until we're out of the hotel. He suddenly comes to a halt, pivoting to face us.

"Here." He hands us each a ticket to a musical being performed at the New Amsterdam Theatre. "The show starts in a couple of hours."

"Thank you," I murmur, glancing down at my ticket.

The title of the musical is in bold letters on top of a colorful background—Penelope's Odyssey.

In small script, the description of the musical implies it's been adapted from Homer's Odyssey but it's focusing instead on Odysseus's wife, Penelope.

"There's only one show today and none until Friday," Cer continues. "If we remain in the theater after closing hours, we'll have at least a couple of days until the staff comes back to work."

"How do you know that?" Thea fires back.

"I asked around." He shrugs. "There's a national holiday the day after tomorrow too, so it's unlikely anyone will be present. That gives us plenty of time to deal with that rogue spirit."

I nod, impressed.

"Since we're going to be there for a few days, we should get some supplies," I suggest.

"Like what?" Thea frowns.

"Food, some spare clothes, flashlights, and maybe a few sleeping bags."

Cer stares at me intently before his gaze moves to his sister. He purses his lips, pensive for a moment. Thea sports a contrite expression as she meets his eyes, almost as if they're having a silent conversation.

Or maybe they are? I'm not sure what their abilities are—besides Thea's extreme charm—but I can't discount the fact that they could be capable of some crazy stuff. Just like I can't discount the fact that for all intents and purposes, they are strangers. We may be on the same team now, but I'm still unsure about their intentions or their plans. For that reason, I need to keep my guard up.

"Fine. We can do that," Cer says.

We go to the nearest convenience store and stock up on essentials—water, some non-perishable food, and a few snacks. Next, we stop by one of those touristy shops and get some hoodies and mini flashlights with NYC on them. Cer pays for everything in one-hundred-dollar bills, just like he did at the restaurant. I don't know where he got that money from, but I'm not about to ask. Given their cluelessness about how things work in this world, I wouldn't be surprised if he robbed a bank. And since I'd rather not become an accessory to yetanothercrime, I'll gladly embrace my ignorance.

With a little under one hour to spare until the show starts, we go to a coffee shop across the theatre and wait. As we order some refreshments, I notice that Cer is monitoring Thea's choice closely, grunting in approval when she asks for a lemonade. I get the same, while Cer orders plain water.

After we get our beverages, Cer slides a few pieces of paper on the table, nodding at us to have a look.

"A short history of New Amsterdam Theatre," I read aloud the title of what seems to be a newspaper clipping.

"There wasn't a lot of information available, but this should give us a starting point," he mentions as he leans back.

Thea comes closer to me as we sift through what her brother found.

"Here's a mention of a ghost! A man claims to have seen a lady in a green beaded dress holding a blue bottle and walking through walls a few months ago," I read off the page. "He recognized her as former silent film actress, Olive Thomas." There's a brief biography of Olive Thomas, once a Broadway superstar. "It seems she died of an accidental poisoning in 1920."

"That's odd." Thea narrows her eyes, shooting a subtle look at her brother. "What type of poisoning?"

"Apparently, she ingested a mercury bichloride mixture that had been prescribed for her husband's syphilis," I add as I peruse some of the details.

"Syphilis? What's that?" Thea inquires innocently.

"It's a sexually transmitted disease. Now it's treatable with penicillin, but in 1920 that hadn't been discovered. Mercury was the de facto treatment back in the day, but it was also highly toxic. Poor girl, I can't imagine the torment she must have suffered after ingesting the mercury..." Just thinking about it makes the hairs on my body stand up. Such a cruel way to die—and she didn't die immediately, either. She languished for days on a hospital bed before her final demise.

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