Page 35 of Wolfsbane Hall
“Wait.” Vivian held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. It will ruin the show, won’t it?”
Would it?Celestine wasn’t sure.
“Well, I got this.” Vivian handed over an envelope. “It’s my invitation.”
The letter was written on parchment, giving it the illusion of age. It smelled of beeswax with a slight hint of coconut. And like all good Murder Mystery parties, Vivian had received a mysterious note directing her to the mansion and the game.
Dearest Vivian,
Tonight is our night of reckoning. Your past might be buried fifteen feet deep, and perhaps it will stay that way, but if you do not appear at Wolfsbane Hall at 7:00 p.m. on November 13, I will expose all your secrets to your family and the world at large.
See you then, liebste Schwester,
The Specter (or something like it)
The Phantom must have been a fan of Agatha Christie’s recently released book,And Then There Were None, because the game’s setup was nearly identical: threats to uncover secrets and being summoned to a mysterious, secluded mansion.
But the note also contained a clue.
Liebste Schwester
Celestine knew these words, but it had been far too long since she studied German. Her lessons ended after her family’s horrific deaths and her being placed in foster care. Her foster parents only cared about the money they received from the government and did not continue Celestine’s lessons.
“It’s so macabre,” Vivian said with an uninterested droll.
“Liebste Schwester? What does it mean?” Celestine asked, handing the note back.
“Dearest sister.”
Celestine’s heart pounded like a snare in her ears, and hereyes flashed to James.James. Was her sweetheart the one torturing her—the Phantom?
Was there another option?
“They love calling me that orwenig liebe,” Vivian said, her eyes tracking her brother and the twins.
“They?”
“All three of them.”
“They all call you sister?”
Vivian sucked in an exhausted breath. “Of course. It’s their favorite thing. Now, if you would excuse me, I have a bone to pick with my brother…andcousins.” She added the last bit as an afterthought.
The fake blonde strolled off like a feline about to pounce on her prey, curls bouncing with each footfall. A part of Celestine felt sorry for the men, but the vengeful part of her thought they all deserved the storm coming their way.
Celestine rubbed her face, the ghost of a spider crawling up her skin.James.James? Truly, she didn’t want him to be the Phantom. He was supposed to be her comfort, her escape, not her executioner. But then it could make sense. Celestine was nothing to James except a good fuck, and James was a bit of a psychopath. He didn’t possess the ability to love.
A stinging sensation cued at the corners of Celestine’s eyes, and she tried to suck in the emotions threatening to fall as she watched the men receiving their verbal whipping. The sound didn’t travel far enough to reach Celestine’s ears, but she still gathered that none of it was good.
Everett clenched his fists and turned the shade of a fresh apple, while James merely painted a stoic smirk on his sharp features and played with a metal contraption. Another one of his little inventions.
“Do you think I’m James?” the Phantom asked, a soft voice at the back of her neck, like a lover whispering into her ear. Thesensation grated against her heart. All at once, wonderful and rotten.
“Were you listening to my conversation with Vivian?” Her voice came out breathy and far too intrigued.No. Get it together, Celine.
“I always listen to you, my sweet Celine.”
“Don’t call me that.” She swatted at the disembodied voice behind her ear. It was no longer seductive. Now, it was infuriating. Celine was the Specter’s name to call her, not this terrible beast.
