“I for one do not want to find out,” Sam said.
He walked over to the painting on the workbench, then searched among the tools until he found what he wanted. He uncapped the thick marker, and on the back of the painting, in bold all-caps wrote, “Do Not Destroy.” Then he took the painting and shoved it under the wire shelves, out of sight.
Erielle opened her mouth to protest at the treatment of her grandmother’s painting, but the truth was, she wanted it gone, too. Out of sight.
“I’m going to go home and sleep,” Hattie said, her shoulders sagging. “Diner’s just going to have to stay closed today.” She pressed a hand to Marie’s arm as she headed out of the room. “I suggest all y’all do the same.”
“You want a ride?” Marie offered, following her into the foyer.
The look Hattie gave Marie would have been comical if Erielle wasn’t so drained. She could no more imagine Hattie on the back of that motorcycle than she could imagine her doing cartwheels down the sidewalk.
“No, but thank you just the same.”
Marie gave Sam and Erielle a wave before she followed Hattie out the door.
And they were alone.
Exhaustion swamped Erielle, bone-deep, and she turned to look up the stairs. “Do we test out the theory that she’s gone? And go take a nap?” Maybe now that the house wasn’t haunted, she could buy an actual mattress and get an actual good night’s sleep.
“Erielle,” Sam said, his tone low, serious.
She turned to look at him. His eyes, usually warm and often teasing, were somber.
“How were you able to do that, in there? How were you able to read the words? And your eyes…your eyes were black.”
Just like Leslie’s had been. She shot her gaze to him. “They were?”
He nodded, looking miserable. Stricken.
“Gigi was with me. She was…I could hear her, smell her.”
“But was it her power?” His voice was raw. “Or yours?”
She remembered it flowing through her, so that every nerve sizzled, every cell in her body lit up with it. “I don’t know.”
He raked a hand over his face, then dropped it, his expression bleak. “Erielle…I know you’ve been through hell. I know that. But I—” He broke off, his jaw flexing. “I have to take care of my mother. Tonight I’m going to Baton Rouge with them. I’ll be back when I can, but I…” His eyes closed briefly, then opened, bleak and conflicted. “After what I’ve seen these past days…I need time.”
Everything in her sank at his words. Of course he needed time. But as he turned to go, she realized she had hoped he wouldn’t need it away from her.
Thirty-Two
Sam hadn’t beento his grandparents’ house in Baton Rouge since the Christmas before last. Well, that wasn’t all his fault, because his grandparents hadn’t been in town last Christmas—they’d gone on a cruise with their friends last year. They’d wanted the whole family to go, but Sam had no interest, Susan couldn’t get away, and his parents didn’t want to be away from the church for a week during the busy Christmas season.
Now, standing in their parlor, Sam had to mask his surprise at how fragile they looked. His grandparents still greeted him with the same enthusiasm as always, their hugs warm, their smiles genuine, but he couldn’t shake the thought: he needed to make time for more visits. Baton Rouge wasn’t far from New Orleans. And it was even closer to Phantom Bayou. He didn’t want to carry the same regret Erielle did—that guilt of missing the last years of her grandparents’ lives.
Susan was there too, on the end of the settee. Yes, his grandmother used those words. Susan stood once he’d hugged both grandparents, and pulled him into her embrace.
“You have lots of explaining to do,” she murmured. “What is going on?”
“Later,” he promised, because his grandmother was already leading them into the dining room.
He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the scent of roasted chicken and baked bread filled the air. He had to stop himself before he devoured it, forcing restraint into every bite.
His mother had seemed steadier on the drive up, more alert, less weary. His father had been calmer, too—whether out of genuine peace or simply for Leslie’s sake, Sam couldn’t tell. Either way, the reprieve gave Sam space to think. Though the thoughts circling him weren’t comforting.
Even now he let conversation flow around him, everyone talking about unimportant topics. His thoughts drifted to the ritual this morning. All day, the image of the woman he loved standing in the heart of that ritual had haunted him, words he didn’t understand spilling from her mouth, her eyes gone black as night. By the way power had rolled off her in waves.
A power that terrified him.
