Page 95 of The House Saphir
At least, that’s how the story went.
But this woman before Mallory did not have the customary crackling, hazy edges that ghosts had. Rather, she was as colorful and lifelike and solid as any one of them gathered around the fire.
Plus, it was clear that they could all see her.
“You will return to the house,” Gabrielle said, punctuating the statement with a jab of the feather and a shrill tweet. She coughed, clearing her throat. “You must finish what was started.”
“What was started?” Mallory asked.
“You came to rid this world of Bastien, did you not?”
Mallory pulled a face. “I came for three thousand lourdes. And all I’ve gotten are some bruises on my throat and nightmares that will haunt me the rest of my life.”
Gabrielle scoffed, as if ashamed to hear such nonsense from her weakling descendant. “Coward! Where is your sense of duty?”
“Duty?” Mallory glanced at her sister, but Anaïs was gaping at their suddenly alive ancestor, speechless. “Armand tried to kill me! And if he can’t killme, he’ll go after Anaïs next. We’re not going back there.”
Gabrielle shook her head, sending her short, wispy hair flinging against the sides of her face. “He did not try to kill you. I’ve been watching, and Armand is a sweet boy. Likely the kindest soul to ever come out of that accursed family.”
“He tried to strangle me! After he put a sword through Julie’s heart!”
“Nonsense. That was Bastien.”
“It was not Bastien.” She ground her teeth, furious to have to explain herself when Gabrielle, of all people, should have been entirely on her side. “It was Armand. He tricked Julie into marrying him, then he came after me. Because ofyou, by the way. He knows we have Savoy blood. Also, I saw Julie’s ring in his room, and she had a flower from the greenhouse and—”
“You were in Armand’s room?” Anaïs asked, not trying to hide her intrigue.
Gabrielle fluttered the feather like an irate symphony conductor. “I am telling you, it was Bastien.”
“And I’m telling you it was Armand.”
“Because Bastien is possessing him!” Gabrielle screamed this, then burst into a series of frustrated chirps. She pressed her hands over her mouth, but even still, it took a few moments for her to stop what appeared to be a reflexive response.
Mallory reeled back. “What did you say?”
“As far as I have gathered, he has been doing so for years,” said Gabrielle, peeling her hands away. “Possessing Armand’s body when it suits his needs to do so. It was he who wooed that poor maid, he who married her, though he wore Armand’s skin like a cloak as he did it.” She bounced on her toes—hopped side to side a couple of times. “I believe Armand keeps no memory of the times in which his mind is not his own. He likely has no idea that Bastien has been using him to complete the spell he started when he killed Triphine Maeng.”
Mallory stared at her, dumbfounded.
Armand waspossessed?
“What spell is this that he wishes to conclude?” Fitcher asked.
Gabrielle snatched a stick from the fire, charred on one end, and drew a circle in the dirt. Around the circle she spaced five smaller rings. “Five wives. Five wedding rings. Five vows of trust and protection—broken through the ultimate betrayal.”
“Murder,” Anaïs whispered.
Gabrielle’s head bobbed. She drew X’s through four of the five rings. “Powerful dark magic. If the spell is completed…” Her entire body shivered.
Fitcher scratched his bottom lip, displeased.
“What?” asked Mallory. “What will happen?”
“His spirit resurrected and made immortal,” said Gabrielle.
“Immortal?” Fitcher said. “Are you sure he has that power?”
“He was a skilled sorcerer in life, and has become stronger with death.”
