Khalika went on. “Do you remember, Violet, when we were baby co-conspirators—how we’d babble to each other about all sorts of things? No matter; I’ll refresh your memory. Once, Dick knelt down and told us that if we did not stop talking nonsense, he would send us to the loony bin where they would put us in teeny-weenie strait jackets and apply electro-therapy to our wee skulls. Do you remember how he always focused on you? No? That’s OK, I mean, because I do. Perfect recall is my gift, at least what I’m able to take in, what breaks through the background noise.

“It’s the same with Dad, and I realize your recent exposure to his method of communication was a bit disconcerting—but that’s another matter. This kind of thing takes energy and ingenuity, and a great store of occult knowledge acquired over centuries. Think of him as another configuration of the Spirit of Nature. Only in the past couple of years has he been able to make contact with me—and only in short bursts. You should feel honored, by the way. I have my theories about him, but they’re just that. As for Oceane—nothing yet. That painting I left reflected his presence, that he would soon find a way to get through to you—through all the distractions.

“Anyway, back to dead Dick. That was when things changed for us, and we only spoke in private—in our room, mostly, and later, in the barn, on walks, after movies. Speaking of movies, did you ever wonder why we never entered together, why you entered the theatre first and waited for me in the balcony—way in the back? Did it ever occur to you that I never spoke to anybody—ever—and that in the rare instances when I did, the person didn’t reply? Think of Dick and Bianca: they only got upset when they caught us conspiring, and you learned never to do that in their presence. Of course, I reinforced that taboo as well. Finally, like most everything else, it became habit. You allowed me to take over.”

I racked my brain, trying to come up with some response that might make sense, failing miserably. I licked my lips, dry as parchment. I was still trying to process the information about our father.

“No matter. Everything will soon be apparent. I will guide you in this transition and all will be well. Let’s adjourn to the library for brandy and cigars.”

I followed her like a puppy too early separated from its mother.