Page 15 of House of Roots and Ruin
Was it my long-dead sisters, come for a late-night visit? What would they look like up close? I imagined ghoulish faces and fanged grins, tendrils of red hair running down their bodies like rivulets of blood, clouded eyes as white as milk.
The seahorse dipped all the way around and the latch clicked, releasing the catch. I sucked in one sharp breath, cringing as the door slowly drifted open.
For a moment, it seemed no one was there.
“Ro…Rosalie?” I dared to whisper, fear staking my throat too thin. I could feel my heartbeat ricocheting through the veins in my ears, its pulse drowning out any answer from the other side.
The Other Side.
But then Hanna bustled in, carrying a tray of hair soaps and oils, a fresh bath sheet hanging over her arm.
“Did you say something, dear heart?” she asked, her voice clear, her figure unmistakably present and solid.
Echoes of Roland’s absurd statement lingered in the back of my mind and I wanted to laugh. How foolish did he and Camillethink me? They probably planned to let Hanna go first thing in the morning, taking away my one solace as they plotted how to best carry out this ridiculous claim.
“I thought I’d find you in here,” Hanna said, setting down the tray and arranging the items along the marbled countertop. “I heard about the…argument…and went to your rooms to see how you were coping. When you weren’t there, I knew you’d either be down at the shore or in here.”
She turned and dipped her fingers in,tsking at the temperature before turning the faucet handle, coaxing hot water back into the tub. I jumped at the metallic screech, my teeth sharp against one another.
Roland’s words, however preposterous, had set me on edge.
“Whenever something’s troubling you, you always turn to the water.” She ruffled the back of my neck and wet strands of hair clung to her wrist.
My dark curls against her crepe-paper skin unreasonably cheered me. A ghost couldn’t do that. A ghost couldn’t do any of the things she’d done.
“Hanna…,” I started, then stopped. For one strange, horrible moment, she flickered in front of me, like a candle on the verge of sputtering out. Had I blinked, I would have missed it.
“Yes?”
She flickered again.
I scrunched my eyes closed and sank into the bath, letting it muffle the sounds of her chatter. I was struck by the sudden and horrifying notion that when I emerged, she’d be gone.
She’d be gone becauseHanna Whitten has been dead and gone these last twelve years.
Roland’s words rang louder now, amplified by the water surrounding me. I stayed under as long as I could, my lungs burning and screaming at me to just come up and breathe. Breathe!
“—don’t you think?” She blinked at me, waiting for my response to a question I’d not heard.
“What?” I managed.
“I said I think the lavender best for tonight, don’t you? Help ease your mind. Help sleep claim you.”
“How…” Words failed me.
This was absurd.
Hanna was here before me now.
Hanna was—
Hanna Whitten has been dead and gone these last twelve years.
No!
She was opening doors, carrying trays. Touching me with tangible heft.
She was not a ghost.
