Page 112 of The House on Prytania
“Got it.”
I stepped around the edge of the table and walked toward the swinging door on the opposite side of the room, quickly moving through it without looking back.
The kitchen bustled with the waitstaff and caterers, and after a few disinterested glances in my direction, I continued through the room to the banquette table, pretending to look out to the back garden, where more luminaries and twinkling lights lit the shadowed garden.
When I was sure no one was looking, I left my plate on the table and walked around the corner and into the morning room. I slid my finger along the chair rail like I’d seen Beau do until I found a soft depression in the wood, and I pressed.
The hidden panel in the wall popped open a crack and I hurried through it, pulling it closed behind me. I took out my phone—too big to fit in my bra—which I had cleverly concealed in the waistband of my pants, held in place by something Jolene called a pasty, something she’d once sworn by in her beauty pageant days and always kept on hand.
I flipped on my flashlight and shone it up the dark staircase. An icy wind wafted down the steps, blowing my hair and misting my face with damp. “Beau?” My voice came out in a strangled burst, not loud enough to be heard by anyone. Aiming the light in front of me, I began to slowly climb the stairs. The temperature dropped with each step, my teeth chattering by the time I reached the top.
I looked at the two closed doors, trying to decide behind which one I might find Beau. I wasn’t even sure how I knew he was upthere. It was just a feeling. If there was anything I’d learned from Melanie, it was to always pay attention to my instincts. They were the closest thing most people had to a sixth sense. I knew Beau was nearby. But so was the source of the icy breeze whistling through the rafters of the old house despite the still night outside.
My hand gravitated to the door on the left. I turned the knob and went through it to the attic hallway I remembered from when I was there before. Beau sat in the middle of the walkway, leaning against a brick chimney, a camping lantern and crystal tumbler beside him, a thin layer of amber at the bottom of the glass. The distant hum of voices from downstairs formed a steady backdrop to thesnap snapof his plucking at the rubber band on his wrist.
He looked at me, his face expressionless. “Well, if it isn’t Nancy Drew. I’m surprised it took you this long to find me.”
I stopped walking. “And I’m surprised that I even bothered. You’ve been ignoring my phone calls and texts. You’re allowed to be mad at me, but you’re not allowed to just walk away without telling me why. I thought we were friends.”
“Friends?” He smiled. “Is that what we are?”
I didn’t say anything. He was wading into dangerous territory, and I hadn’t worn my boots.
“Friends don’t conspire against me behind my back.”
I reached for the feeling of anger, and clung to it like it was a life raft. “We weren’t conspiring—we were trying to protect you, you idiot. Something your grandmother fully supported. Not to mention that I was doing the exact same thing you’d already asked me to do. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what? Bringing Antoine Broussard back?”
The lantern flickered and my phone shut down, the battery dead. “Don’t,” I whispered, knowing I was already too late. His presence oozed between us like oily fingers tracing the ridges of my spine, making my blood still. Fear and anger vibrated inside me and my breath shook in my chest. “What about Sam? Why can you forgive her but not me?”
He looked away, shadows obscuring his face. “My relationship with Sam is far less complicated than my relationship with you.”
I stared at him, knowing this wasn’t the time or the place to untangle what he’d just said. Instead, I took a deep breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Good question. Waiting. But mostly I’ve been thinking. About my family, about the Broussards and the Sabatiers. About hair ribbons and DNA that doesn’t match when it should. And about a strange inscription on a tomb for a little girl who would have been the same age as my sister—who, by the way, is not the person downstairs who calls herself Sunny. But I’m sure you’ve already figured that out.” He raised his glass to me. “And I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about Miss Nola Trenholm. The most aggravating person I’ve ever known but can’t stop thinking about. She’s like a tick, burrowing under my skin and poisoning my blood.”
Tension emanated from him like a wave, washing over me like an icy plunge. I wanted to leave. Ineededto leave. The atmosphere in the attic had become thicker, filling my lungs, choking me. But whatever that unnameable thing was between Beau and me had rooted my feet. Even the things he’d said about me couldn’t make me leave. I had the bizarre thought that he needed me.
“Do you know who that woman is?”
“No.”
“And the little girl who is buried in the Broussard tomb—is she connected to Sunny’s disappearance?”
He took a sip from his glass, then leaned his head against the chimney. “Of course. ‘Broken bone for broken bone, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.’ Isn’t that Antoine Broussard’s motto?”
I stepped forward. “Stop saying his name!”
He laughed, the sound hollow and echoing off the bare rafters. “Doesn’t matter. He’s already here. Remember what I said? About how a spirit doesn’t need a house to haunt?” A white cloud formed in front of his face when he spoke, his voice shaky from the cold.
The bitter wind blew harder, swirling with small invisiblecyclones all around us, carrying with it the stench of rot. But somewhere behind it, lighter than air, the scent of pipe smoke drifted past us. It took me a moment to find my voice. “Are you drunk?”
“No. Just scared. Pardon my French, but the shit’s about to hit the fan.” He put down his glass. “You need to go now.”
The sound of people’s voices downstairs grew louder, carrying across from the attic space above the mural toward us through the closed door. “What’s going on?”
Beau stood, picking up the lantern. “Sam’s here. She had to go to the airport to pick up a special guest, and from the sounds below, I think they’ve both just arrived. I told her to guide the crowd into the dining room so I could see what’s going on. To determine if Antoine will go quietly.”
