“The gargoyles are installed!” Ash grinned as he pointed at the stone creatures. “And the roundabout horse is in place. Lavinia’s Lair is even better than the last time I brought the crew lunch here.” He rocked back and forth on his heels and chuckled as he patted the wooden mane of the horse. “Could I get a proper tour? I missed the earlier one while I was entertaining the kids.”
“Of course.” Lavinia looped her arm through Ash’s elbow. “But it’s a few minutes until sunset, so you can’t linger too long to praise your granddaughter and son-in-law’s handiwork.”
The small group inside Lavinia’s Lair for the séance were Lavinia, her mom Kumiko, Sanjay, Tempest, her grandfather Ashok, book club members Sylvie and Ellery (Ivy had to study, so she’d gone home after making a brief appearance earlier), and a surprising last member: the newest member of their team, Victor. Why was he here? It wasn’t as if the whole Secret Staircase crew had been invited to the séance part of the party. Ivy had been invited because she was in Lavinia’s book club, though she’d declined. Tempest was there because Sanjay said he needed an assistant. It wasn’t strictly true. He could have easily pulled it off on his own. She suspected he wanted moral support. Tempest knew she was overthinking things. She was nervous because strange things always transpired at Sanjay’s faux séances.
Lavinia began the tour with the bamboo-forest reading nook. The potted stalks of bamboo didn’t provide a complete visual barrier but still gave the impression of stepping from one realm into another. By the time you stepped through the faux limestone cave and past the mysterious apothecary jars to reach the purple armchair, there was no way you wouldn’t be ready to sink into a novel from one of the bookcases nearby.
A secret panel on the floor parted the bamboo for a shortcut to the riverboat. It saved ten steps, at most. But that wasn’t the point. The sliding potted plants had made Lavinia’s face light up like she was a kid again the first time she saw it, and each subsequent time Tempest witnessed resulted in the same sense of childhood glee.
Today, it was Ellery who squealed with delight. “I already saw this at our last book club meeting, but it really is my favorite part. The most magical. As soon as I’ve saved up enough, you and I will talk, Tempest.”
Stepping through the parted bamboo to the riverbank of the Nile, Sylvie pointed at the storage-room door underneath. “And that’s the least magical spot here. I’d have thought you’d have covered that eyesore under the riverboat with blue skirting to look like the river.” She sighed. “We might as well have a look since Ashok asked for a full tour.”
“Have faith, Sylvie,” said Lavinia. “A local mural artist is coming in. She’ll be here before our next book club meeting. You won’t have to look at my boring storage space ever again.”
Ash ducked his head and led the way into the space. Kumiko followed in her wheelchair with her daughter close behind, followed by Victor and Ellery. Tempest smiled fondly at the bamboo before stooping to enter the storage space just in time to see her grandfather spot the banker’s box of Corbin’s old manuscript papers. Ash flipped open the lid.
“Grandpa,” Tempest snapped. He wasn’t usually so nosy. At least not with possessions. Only with life stories. He’d know more about someone after thirty minutes than Tempest would after a year.
“It’s fine.” Lavinia laughed as Ash moved on to poking his head around the mirror resting against the wall.
“Ouch!” Sylvie exclaimed as she bumped her head on her way inside. “I’m too young to be this stooped and too old to kneel on a concrete floor. I’m going up to the riverboat. Anyone else coming?” She stomped on the gangplank’s secret rock lever to lower the steps.
Tempest held her breath. Luckily the Secret Staircase Construction team members were great at what they did, so the forceful stomp didn’t break the rock lever. The steps descended. Ellery was the first one to climb onto the boat.
It was Sylvie who hesitated. “I didn’t remember it was steps. I’m sorry you can’t join us, Kumiko.”
Huh. Sylvie might be prickly, but Tempest shouldn’t have rushed to judge her.
“Don’t worry about me.” Kumiko turned her wheelchair toward the pub. “I’ll be waiting at the séance table.”
Sylvie stomped up the stairway gangplank and joined the others in the riverboat. Tempest lingered at the railing. Here, she felt like she was on a real boat, embarking on an adventure. She followed the others inside in time to see Lavinia showing Ash one of Tempest’s favorite details in the raised riverboat: the smuggler’s nook. When they peeked inside, both compartments were as empty as they had been two days before when they’d been looking for the missing typewriter.
Tempest felt pride at what they’d accomplished here. It was no longer a vast, unkempt study of a frustrated writer, but a magical reading nook, inspiring home office, and cozy book club meeting space for a woman getting a second chance at life.
They ended the tour in the book club meeting space where the séance would take place. Stepping past the merry-go-round horse and under the leering gargoyles, they entered the Oxford Comma pub, which looked more like a haunted manor this evening. The overhead lights had been dimmed and props added: a skull, candles, and old hardback books that did look like they’d come from a movie set. Plus the invisible wires nobody was supposed to see.
“My granddaughter tells me you’ll be having a bonfire later tonight as well,” Ash said.
“Not exactly,” Lavinia explained. “That box you found is filled with Corbin’s old manuscript notes he didn’t take with him. I’m going to burn them.”
“He left a whole box?” Ash asked.
She shrugged. “That’s the notebooks he forgot. He wrote a lot. Not that he shared any of it with me.”
“You haven’t read his notes?” Ash prodded once more.
She shook her head. “I’ll read a few lines as I toss his scribbles into the fire, but that’s it. Fresh start. Remember?” She smiled. But not at Ash.
Tempest followed Lavinia’s gaze. Maybe Victor’s presence wasn’t so surprising. From the way Lavinia was smiling now, and their body language earlier, Tempest suspected romance was in the air.
“The sun is going down,” said Sanjay. “It’s time to begin.”
Tempest wasn’t sure how he could tell. They’d hung blackout curtains over the two outer windows of the basement.
“Everyone, you can leave your cell phones in this bag,” Sanjay continued in his commanding stage voice. “And those of you who still have drinks, you can leave them on the kitchenette countertop.”
“You want us to relinquish our phones?” Sylvie blinked at him, incredulous. “You’re serious?”
“I told you we’re doing this right,” said Lavinia. Tempest wondered if it had more to do with not wanting anyone to post photos of the event. Lavinia wanted catharsis, not ridicule.
In the end, everyone complied without too much protest. Ash was chuckling as he placed his into the black silk bag. “He’s a wonderful performer,” he murmured. “Just wonderful.”
“Everyone!” Sanjay clapped his hands once. The bag was now nowhere to be seen. “Please take a seat.”
He flipped up the tails of his tux and seated himself at the end of the table closest to the kitchenette, facing the pub’s open door. Seven chairs were set around the table, with one open spot for Kumiko’s wheelchair. Lavinia and Kumiko sat to Sanjay’s left and right. Tempest was next to Lavinia, followed by Ellery, Ashok, Sylvie, and Victor.
The three caterers who’d seen to the needs of the fifty guests were outside. Two were cleaning up and one was stationed at a table underneath the archway outside the front door to Lavinia’s Lair. She had a selection of drinks and snacks they could partake of after the séance.
Sanjay stood for a brief moment and used a copper candle snuffer to extinguish the burning wicks of the candelabra on the kitchenette countertop. The only light now came from a solitary candle placed in front of Sanjay. It cast a faint glow of light across the table, their breath making the light flicker and cast jarring shadows.
“Please, join hands.”
At the sound of his commanding voice, their hands grasped those of their seating companions to their left and right.
“Corbin Colt, the Raven, has a weak spirit.” The flickering light of the candle danced across his face as he spoke. “His spirit is mostly already gone from this space. Yet to banish it completely, we must call it forth before we can renounce him.”
Sanjay rolled his head back and forth. With his chin lowered, he focused his gaze on the candle.
“The daylight garden party has done its work cleansing Lavinia’s new home—yes, it is indeed a new home—and now this night will finish the job.”
Their eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering light. The people around the table gasped one by one as they noticed the shadows that looked like claws hovering on the walls. Tempest shook her head and chuckled silently. Of course. Though it wasn’t one of the things she’d helped him set up, he’d done that on purpose. There must have been claw-like cutouts hidden where the light would cast.
“Is that the resonant memory of Corbin?” he asked the darkness.
The candle went out.
Several people at the table gasped.
Tempest hadn’t caught whatever motion Sanjay must have done to extinguish the candle, but she knew it was a controlled move. Maybe he’d timed it, knowing exactly when the remaining wick would burn out. Or maybe it wasn’t even a real candle, though she could have sworn it was. Sanjay could have replaced it with sleight of hand without any of them noticing, even her.
“Is that the Raven’s presence?” Sanjay asked. “Yes! I felt his wing on my cheek.”
A movement from above cut through the air. It wasn’t a simple breeze. The two far-off windows were closed. This was the effect of the wire and gauze Tempest had helped Sanjay hang earlier.
“Can you feel his wings?” Sanjay whispered. “Can you all feel his presence?”
Ellery gasped. “I felt its breath on my cheek!”
Ash chuckled softly. Victor snorted.
“Corbin Colt,” Sanjay continued, ignoring the naysayers. “No—the Raven. You’ve taken the shape of the raven, since your corporeal form cannot find footing here any longer. This space no longer holds the memories of your third-rate books. Lavinia?”
Tempest’s hand was in hers, and she felt her give a start at the sound of her name.
“Lavinia,” Sanjay repeated, “is there anything you’d like to say to the Raven who is now in our presence?”
“This,” she said, “is my space now. You are dead to me.”
The air shifted once more, as if an even larger bird was inside the room with them. A master performer, Sanjay led their minds expertly. Every new sound made a shiver run up Tempest’s spine. The caw of a raven. The creak of a floorboard. The hissing of a ghostly whisper.
And then … something that wasn’t a sound. Not exactly. It was more like a physical force, yet that wasn’t quite right, either. Tempest didn’t feel a physical sensation, yet she felt it every bit as strongly as if she’d been struck.
The sensation of death.
And it was close to her.
Thud.
Sanjay gave a strangled gasp. Tempest shivered. This wasn’t part of the act. Something was wrong.
A soft, glowing light flickered on and off in an unstable cadence, like in those sadistic rooms at fun houses that always gave Tempest a headache. It took her a moment to realize it was the light cast from the faux fireplace.
The projection of the flickering fake fire stopped two seconds later. But it didn’t matter. They’d all seen it.
In the center of the séance table—a table surrounded by eight people who hadn’t broken hands—lay Corbin Colt’s unmoving body, the handle of a bloody knife sticking out of his chest and the black feathers of a raven scattered around him.