Page 62 of House of Salt and Sorrows
“Of course.”
“How do you find her? Do you have to wait for her to showup?”
“Do you want to talk with Eulalie?”
I paused. This was utter madness. I shouldn’t be encouragingit.
I nodded all the same.
Verity’s eyes flitted from mine, staring just past my shoulder. “You can ask her now if you like.”
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. “What do you mean?”
“She’s right there. They both are.”
I followed her finger, spotting two dark silhouettes in the window before I snapped my neck back, facing Verity. It was a trick of the light, long shadows cast from the plinths around the room. That was not Eulalie.
And then I heard it.
It was a soft rustling, silk skirts raking across the marble tiles, accompanied by the click of a man’s dress shoes.
They were heading toward me.
The footsteps stopped behind me, and I suddenly felt them, felt their presence, like a fish trained to sense the movements of its school even before they were made. My chest constricted, pulled too tight to take in a proper breath. Verity smiled up at the visitors, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn and do the same. I didn’t want to see my sister. Not like that. I leaned forward, resolutely keeping my eyes on the floor.
“She wants to know why you won’t look at her,” Verity said, her voice soft and distant.
“Eulalie?” I whispered faintly, feeling as though I’d gone mad. I tried to imagine I was in the crypt, sitting before her statue. What would I say then? “I…I miss you so much.”
“She misses you too.”
“Can you tell me about that night, out on the cliff walk? Edgar said he was supposed to meet you—but someone else was there instead?”
From the corner of my vision, I saw Verity slowly nod, her own eyes unspeakably large.
“Who was it? Who murdered you?”
My skin tingled, sensing Eulalie step even closer to me. A foul odor flooded my nostrils, like the funk of a fish market at the end of a hot day, the meat turned and spoiled.
A pair of cold hands grabbed my shoulder, and I sank my teeth into my lower lip, jerked backward. Her fingernails had been painted a cheerful coral, but the ends were scratched ragged, and two nails were missing from the waterlogged flesh. My eyes squeezed shut as a keening whimper escaped me.
“You!” Eulalie screeched, then shoved me forward with such force, I struck my head on the marble tiles.
I blinked away stars, ready to grab Verity and run, but the room was empty.
“Verity!” I called out, then lowered my voice. “Eulalie?”
From the far end of the room came the rustle of skirts again, near the windows. She must have snatched Verity and spirited her behind the drapes. Eulalie had always loved playing hide-and-seek.
I swallowed deep and approached the heavy velvet curtains. My imagination was flooded with a barrage of gruesome images as I anticipated what I was about to find.
Moonlight poured into the room, silvery and so thick I could almost touch it. With shaking hands, I yanked one panel back, then the other, but my sisters were not there.
Movement caught my attention. A butterfly, nearly as large as my hand, clung to a windowpane. It fluttered its wings, rustling up against the glass.
A second butterfly crept out from the folds of the curtains, crawling along the toothy surface. Strange markings like tiny, leering skulls dotted the wings. A third came down. Then a fourth. I backed away from the window, and one landed on my shoulder with surprising heft. It caught in my hair, tangled and twisting. I ran my fingers through the spot, hoping to rescue it, and my hand brushed against something furry.
In disgust, I shook my hair out. The insect landed on the floor with a thud much greater than a bug should make. Leaning in to examine it, I was disgusted to find the biggest moth I’d ever seen. Its wings were tattered and powdery, and it flopped against the tiles, struggling to right itself. Six legs, muscular and writhing, squirmed with rage. Huge antennae crowned the moth’s head, just above its bulging black eyes.
