Page 96 of The Guests on South Battery
I pounded on the attic door with the flat of my hand. “Jayne? Are you in there?” I turned to Jack, frantic. “We’ve got to get her out of there. If Anna knows who she is, she’s in terrible danger.”
Ginette pulled on my arm. “What do you mean? Who is Jayne?”
I banged on the door, searching for some reassurance that Jayne was in the attic, and that we weren’t too late. “Jayne? Are you in there?”
My mother jerked harder on my arm, pulling me to face her. “Mellie, who is Jayne?”
Jack placed a hand on her shoulder. “She’s your daughter, Ginette. The one you gave birth to at the lake house, and believed died.”
She paced her gloved hand over her mouth. “How did you...?”
Jack spoke quickly. “I’ll tell you more later, but it’s all in the album. The pictures of you pregnant, and then the pictures of the baby. The housekeeper told me everything.”
I held her elbow as she began to sink, but she straightened on her own. “She can’t be alone with Anna. Not if she knows that Jayne is Sumter’s daughter.” She pushed forward and began hammering on the door. “Open the door, Anna. Open the door!” She tried the doorknob, then pushed on the door several more times before stopping.
“I’ll go see if I can open the hidden door from the butler’s pantry—Rich Kobylt showed me the little button in the wainscoting,” Jack said. “I couldn’t open it before, but that might not mean anything. You two stay here. You’re stronger together. And if Anna is distracted, that might give you the chance to get through this door and find Jayne.”
“And if we have Jayne, we’ll be unbeatable,” my mother said as she grasped my hand.
Four loud crashes vibrated the attic floor above us as my mother tightened her grasp. “Snow globes,” I whispered.
My mother nodded. “Hasell’s up there. She must know they’re half sisters.” Her voice held an edge of surprise. “She’ll protect Jayne, but she’s not as strong as Anna. Hurry—we must hurry!”
I handed Jack my phone so he’d have a flashlight, then gave him afast kiss before he ran down the hallway, his footsteps echoing on the stairway long after his shadow disappeared.
The storm continued to batter the roof and structure of the old mansion, matching the barometric pressure dropping inside, the walls creaking and swelling with the stress. An unholy tremor shook the foundation, shoving me into my mother’s side. I pretended it was an accident so she wouldn’t know how petrified I was.
I swallowed, trying to gain control of my voice. “I hope that means Jack managed to open the door. Let’s trust he was right about the diversion.” I turned the knob and watched with surprise as the attic door easily opened inward, but I resisted moving forward. “Why can’t ghosts hide out in bright sunrooms in the middle of the day?”
Ginette tugged on my hand and, with her phone flashlight guiding the way, led us up the stairs.
The frigid air blew into my lungs, stinging my eyes and skin, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. “Anna’s here,” I whispered, mostly to make sure my voice still worked.
“Jayne?” Ginette called out.
A groan came from the bed. Ginette aimed the beam in that direction, illuminating the figure of a woman curled into the fetal position. We took a step toward the bed, stopping when we hit a wall of frigid air.
My mother’s hand trembled. “That’s from Jayne—she’s blocking everything now, to protect us. But she’s growing weak.”
An odd yet familiar fluttering rose from the hidden stairs, overwhelming the noise of the storm. It was flies, hundreds and hundreds of flies, hurtling their small, rigid bodies at the walls, swarming in the small space. “Jack?” I yelled into the opening.
“I’m here,” he shouted, but it sounded as if he was out of breath. “I can’t get out—something’s holding me down.” He coughed, and I thought of the flies blocking his airways, slowly suffocating him. “The flies are... everywhere.”
I pulled on my mother’s hand to drag her with me to Jack, but she pulled me back. “No. It’s a trap. We need to make sure Jayne’s all right first.” She squeezed my hand. “And then we fight.”
I called down the steps, shouting to be heard over the buzzing, “Jack—hang on!”
With rapid, careful steps we moved into the middle of the room. A swishing sound came from above our heads and we looked up. Long strips of sheets swirled from the rafter, undulating like a human form. I grabbed my mother’s hand and ran toward the bed and the still figure lying in the middle.
Ginette tossed the phone on the bed near me and began stripping off her gloves, putting her fingers on a vein in Jayne’s neck. “Hold the flashlight, and take Jayne’s hand. She’s weak from fighting, but her pulse is strong. Hold tight, and don’t let go no matter what happens.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, then watched as she took Jayne’s other hand. She grew rigid, like a divining rod finding water. A surge of electricity traveled from my mother’s body and through Jayne, tingling across my palms and up through my fingertips. Jayne’s body began to tremble, then shake, her fingers slipping from mine.
“Don’t let go,” Ginette shouted just as the phone slipped from my grasp and fell facedown, leaving us in complete darkness.
I found Jayne’s hand again and grabbed, determined not to let it go again.
“Melanie? Are you here?” From the pressure on the bed near where I sat, I was aware of Jayne digging in her heels against the mattress, trying to sit up against the headboard.
