Page 114 of The House on Prytania
I looked down again, watching as Robert tried to lay a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder and she angrily brushed it off, stepping back with Felicity cradled against her. “So if Michael’s real sister died, then...” I looked at Beau.
“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—remember? If Antoine blamed my grandfather for making him kill his own daughter—as crazy as that sounds to sane people—it makes sense that he would exact revenge by taking away my sister.”
“And when the real Felicity died, it was the perfect opportunity to take one child and replace her with another. But what about Felicity and Michael’s parents? They would have to be complicit, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t you wonder why they became missionaries and moved to another continent? Their guilt forced them to leave their children in the care of their father’s sister and her husband, two bereft and grieving parents who’d suffered too many losses and would findit almost impossible to say no, or to ask too many questions about a little girl with the same name as the niece they knew had died.”
The reek of moist soil and decay wafted past my nostrils, making me gag. Beau coughed, but kept his attention focused below. Robert had moved to the middle of the group, his hand raised, the crowd behind him now silenced except for the occasional sobs from Felicity and Angelina. Mimi was strangely silent, her attention fixated on Felicity as if she were seeing a ghost.
Robert started to speak, his voice too thick and heavy for him to be understood. I strained forward, noticing the bald circle at the crown of his head. He coughed, and a man dressed as Saint Joseph with a baby carrier on his back emerged from the group to hand him a glass of water. “I am sorry,” Robert announced. “I know any apologies are grossly inadequate, but to those I have wronged, I am heartily sorry.” He looked at his wife, who turned her face as she continued to cradle a sobbing Felicity against her chest. His own face turned toward Mimi. “And I will not feed the rumor mill by going through all the painful details of a crime you will undoubtedly be reading about for years.”
His voice had been rising as he spoke, the bare emotion distracting me from the attic air that had become icy and the cloying stench that made me think of death and decay, of a stale old mausoleum.
“My wife, Michael, and Felicity are blameless. My wife’s brother and his wife I also hold blameless, their actions born of grief and desperation over the loss of a child. They are still doing penance with lives of servitude and forced separation from their family and the children they adored. I alone will answer for all the sins and ills of this family.”
He clenched his hands into fists and pounded one on the dining table, causing the china and crystal to tremble alarmingly. “But I will share the blame with Antoine Broussard, whose evil nature still exists, along with his sins, sins that are well-known but carefully buried beneath layers of threats and fear. But the time has finally come forhis true nature to be revealed to the very people whose acceptance and reverence he craved.”
The cover of Jeanne’s clientele book slammed open on the walkway between Beau and me, the sound drowned out by Robert, whose words were now being shouted as he walked in a small circle, like a man uncertain of where he should turn.
“He and he alone planted the seeds for this unconscionable crime. He told me how I could make my despondent wife the mother she desperately wanted to be. When he told me it would involve abducting an innocent child from her loving family, I refused. He countered by threatening the life of my beloved Angelina.”
The frigid air surrounding us pulsed in and out like a rancid breath as my own throat tightened in fear. Pages from the book began tearing loose and flying through the air.
“He’s not going to leave peacefully, is he?” My voice shook with cold and dread.
“Leave now. While you still can.” Beau was looking at me, the tips of his eyelashes frosted with ice.
I spoke through chattering teeth. “Only if you come with me.”
A strong wind rushed through the attic as Robert’s raised voice echoed from the room below. “And I curse Antoine Broussard. May he rot in hell for all eternity!”
The walkway beneath us began to tremble, and the people in the dining room turned their gazes upward in unison. It took me a moment to realize that they weren’t looking at us but at the giant chandelier that was now swaying drunkenly above the table, the plaster ceiling groaning and crackling like an old man after a long sleep.
“Don’t you just love old houses?” Jolene exclaimed from her spot near the foot of the table as she stretched out her arms and began funneling guests toward the doorway. “You’d think all the settling would be over by now, and then—the chandelier starts shifting. The one thing that’s as sure as your grandma forgetting her teeth on the bathroom sink is their unpredictability.”
Christopher stepped forward to take Mimi’s arm, then spoke tothe crowd with a friendly yet commanding voice. “Let’s all go outside to the back garden, where we will enjoy this beautiful evening and announce the winners of the raffles.”
Loud chatter erupted as several people quickly moved toward the nearest exit. Christopher and Mimi led the way, while Jaxson and Cooper and several other guests helped guide the group out of the dining room, and a saint I couldn’t name but who carried a shepherd’s crook led the last stragglers out through the kitchen.
Only Robert remained, his gaze focused on the ceiling and the wildly swaying chandelier, as flecks of painted plaster dusted both him and the table, sprinkles of white seasoning the leftover food.
Beau struggled to a stand; his legs bent like a surfer’s to keep his balance as the wind buffeted us. “Go, Nola. Please. I need to draw him up here, and I can’t be responsible for what happens next. Or who might come through with him.”
I shook my head, my eyes tearing from the force of the wind.
“Then hold on tight,” he shouted. He grabbed the now-empty clientele book and held it in the air. “Antoine Broussard, you son of a bitch, it’s time to meet your maker and face the justice you deserve.”
The house shuddered, causing Beau’s feet to shift. I stifled a scream as he struggled to regain his balance. “Come on and face me, you coward. You hid behind threats and money to ensure you and your family maintained a good and respectable reputation. But it’s all over now, you bastard! Everyone knows what you’ve done. There’s nowhere to hide. And you know what? You’re not wanted here. It’s time to leave.”
The wind ripped the clientele book from his hand, then hurled it across the attic at the window, shattering the glass. I pressed my forehead against the floor, covering my face as shards flew into the spiraling squall, cutting any exposed skin. Peering up at Beau, I saw he had on his forehead a red gash that was dripping sideways because of the strength of the wind.
I remembered one of the things Melanie had told me about dealing with spirits was that you shouldn’t goad them, because it madethem angry and unpredictable. Unless, I thought as I peered down into the dining room and saw the chandelier now swaying gently, it was important to draw a spirit close so they could be dealt with and eradicated. Just like the Ghostbusters but without a proton pack.
The wind picked up strength, rushing at us from the rafters. I stayed flat, barely able to lift my head to see Beau dropping into a squat, his hands gripping the floor. “You were the one who ruined your family, Antoine. Not Robert. Not me. It was you, you sick bastard.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but the words clogged my throat as Beau’s head jerked backward before his body was flung down the length of the walkway. He lay unmoving, with his head facing me, his eyes closed, and blood trickling from his nose. I screamed his name and began crawling toward him, digging in the toes of my sneakers to move me forward.
Something that felt like a foot stepped hard on my back, pressing me against the ground, forcing the air from my lungs and making it impossible for me to move. I watched as Beau’s foot slipped toward the edge of the walkway, pushed by unseen hands.
