Page 87 of Wolfsbane Hall
“Why did she guess?”
“Because there were only forty minutes left to guess, and she was convinced.” Babette wrung her hands. “She didn’t think there was any possibility that she was wrong.”
“Who did she guess?” Celestine asked, but she was fairly certain she already knew the answer.
“James.”
Celestine nodded, her heart leaping into her throat. “So the Specter is officially not James or Dean.”
“Officially?” Babette raised a dark brow.
“Dean is the Phantom.”
Which meant that the Specter had to be Everett? There was nearly no chance that the uncles or Archibald were the Specter. They weren’t around the mansion enough, not to mention the younger Ashbrooks all but confirmed one of them was the Specter.
So it was Everett.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Everett appeared out of thin air in front of them, causing Celestine to jolt and clutch her heart, it surging far too fast.
“Come on, dolls. You’re gonna miss the climax,” Everett said with great jubilation. “And trust me, you don’t want to miss this part.”
“Fuck,” Babette uttered softly. “You shouldn’t do that. It’s jarring.”
He flashed a dimple and traced her with his gaze. “Is it?”
“Of course, it is,” she bit out. “But of course, you wouldn’t care about that because you don’t care about anyone. But by all means, show us to your next show of horrors. We’ve been having so much fun already tonight. Why not a little more?”
Celestine’s eyebrows crinkled. Babette had never talked back to him before. Perhaps she was done with the men and Wolfsbane Hall’s games, too.
A sickeningly sweet smile blanketed Everett’s cheeks. “Then follow me.”
They did. Both girls were wary and walking as if on eggshells. Nothing about the night was expected, but more so than that, everything about the night was tainted. So much had ruptured that they would never think about it or their jobs the same.
Everett led them back to the showroom—the Ballroom. Once again, the ghosts were dancing and putting on an illusion, a show, a dance of secrets and lies. But there was something different about this show. It was putrid, like maggots and worms crawling out of a corpse. Celestine shuddered. Whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be good.
Everett went over to his brothers, who were standing in front of a table of champagne glasses, discussing something in hushed voices.
Babette and Celestine shared a look of camaraderie, both of them fully understanding that they were done. Something had shifted between them forever. It was small, but it was something.
“Oh no,” Babette whispered under her breath as Lorraine and Irene walked up to them. The last thing either girl wanted was to talk to the monstrous matriarchs of the family.
“The final two,” Lorraine said with a twisted smile.
Babette rolled her eyes. “Was that supposed to be hard? There were only ever three of us.” Venom dripped from her ruby lips, and she reached out and slapped Lorraine across the face. “Fuck you and your fucked-up family. Frances was the best of us.”
Lorraine lunged at Babette, but Celestine stepped between them.
“I won’t hesitate to hit you, too, girl,” Lorraine said, balling her fist and moving it toward Celestine’s face.
She shut her eyes tight, bracing for the pain and force of the punch, but nothing happened, and Celestine peeled an eye open, confusion littering her expression.
“Touch her, and I will lock you in a cage for five hundred years,” Dean said, holding his mother’s fist. “And I will let Everett…and James torture you.”
Lorraine’s face turned a shade of deep crimson, but she said nothing else, lowering her hand.
A silence soaked the space between them like the ocean waters in the north. Frozen and deadly.
But Irene cut through it and said to Celestine, “How are you still alive?
