Page 59 of The House Saphir
She snapped back to attention, surprised to find herself in the mausoleum. Armand had a hand on her elbow, gently squeezing. “What’s wrong? Are you cold? You’re shivering.”
“No. I—I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to pry. If you don’t want to talk about your magic—”
“N-no. I don’t mind. Being able to communicate with ghosts is a wonderful gift, one that is uncommon even among witches.” She tried to smile, but knew that it was as fake as it felt. “I wouldn’t trade it for any—”
Armand grabbed her arm suddenly, silencing her. “Do you see that?”
He was staring at Lucienne’s crypt, and the hand that was emerging out of the statue of the reclined woman. The spectral hand that was followed by an arm, a head, a ball gown, all shimmering in the dim light.
“Y-yes,” said Mallory. “But how areyouseeing it?”
A second figure followed, emerging out of Béatrice’s tomb. Béatrice herself appeared, though far less dramatically than Lucienne, who now stood on top of her own crypt, posed like one of the angelic statues outside.
Lucienne’s wide eyes fell on Mallory as she spread both hands to the side. “Oh, most magical one! We hereby beseech you!”
Armand cursed in surprise and drew back, pulling a stunned Mallory against the altar. “What…? Who…? Is that…?”
“Lucienne,” she said. “And Béatrice.”
“Please, help us,” Béatrice said, her voice a squeak compared to Lucienne’s boisterous plea.
“Why can I see them?” Armand asked. “Why can Ihearthem?”
“You are the only one who can free our beleaguered souls, oh powerful sorceress!” bellowed Lucienne.
“Witch,” said Mallory. “Not a sorceress. It’s a totally different… never mind. Uh,yes, poor, helpless ghosts. I shall help you. I am here to guide your souls to their eternal rest.” She waved her hands around in a gesture that she hoped implied spellcasting.
Béatrice frowned at her. “This is all just a tad melodramatic, don’t you think?”
But Lucienne, who apparently loved nothing more than a bit of melodrama, fell to her knees and grabbed at Mallory’s skirt. It only made the fabric wave for a moment, but Mallory felt it was a nice touch.
“Your presence at this house has already done much for us,” said Lucienne. “Our lord husband, Monsieur Le Bleu, fears your powers most—erm.”
“Fearsomely?” Béatrice suggested.
“Fearsomely! So long as you are near, I know you shall protect us from his wicked ways!”
“Soon, I shall vanquish him entirely,” said Mallory, “and Monsieur Le Bleu shall be no more!”
“Thank you. Thank you.” Lucienne’s voice was growing weak. Mallory knew from having Triphine interact with her tour guests that it was exhausting for a ghost to communicate with most mortals, and she had far exceeded Mallory’s expectations. “We will be forever indebted to you… Mallory Fontaine.” Her voice becamewhisper thin as she faded away, slipping back down into her crypt and disappearing.
Mallory and Armand both looked at Béatrice.
“Oh! Yes. We are in your gratitude.” Béatrice curtsied, then blinked away into nothingness.
The mausoleum was once again still and silent, except for Armand’s ragged breathing.
Mallory beamed as she faced him. If that wasn’t a glowing validation of her skills, she didn’t know what was. “So. Now you’ve met the wives.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Days and nights ticked by, steady as a metronome. Mallory found that she could relax after the wives’ visit in the cemetery. Their performance had worked like a god-blessed charm. If Armand hadn’t been thoroughly convinced of Mallory’s talents before then, he certainly was after. All the rest of the day he’d looked at Mallory with a sort of awe that left her both flustered and, if she admitted it, a tiny bit guilty. She started to dread the day when he would discover she was nothing but a fraud. How would he look at her then?
Oh well. She’d known what she was doing when she agreed to this job. It was nothing to lose sleep over.
Whatwasworth losing sleep over was the fact that every night—sometimes multiple times during her slumber—she awoke to the uncanny sensation that someone else was in the room. Watching her.
