It took me some time to fall asleep. Amy had stayed downstairs after dinner, for a little chat with Ann and Edward about what would be put in motion the moment Price drove past the Manor gates. Trisha slouched down the second-floor hallway to her room, still whining and complaining about her poor aching knees. She was knocking on my door in under a minute, all fussy and flabbergasted about her private bathtub.
"I'm so taking a long bath with relaxing oils!" she cried, clapping.
"Hush!" I chided her, nodding to the nursery. "It's late, Trish!"
"Oops!" she whispered, hand to her mouth. "Ghost kids go to bed early? Do they actually sleep?"
"You should ask them yourself tomorrow morning. Early. Cause I'm waking you up at seven tops."
"What? You crazy? My religion forbids it. Waking up before ten is a deadly sin."
"Suit yourself. The celebs are arriving at nine."
She narrowed her eyes like I'd just stabbed her in the back, shook her head and slouched back to her room, grumbling under her breath. I swallowed a giggle and closed my door again.
Yeah, the celebs would be here within ten short, fleeting hours. And the tingling in my fingertips mixed with the cold spot in my belly, to the extent that I didn't know how I felt about it anymore.
When I was finally able to fall asleep, my dreams reflected my mixed emotions in such a preposterous way, that after running for my life in a maze with blood-red walls for hours, I found myself in Price's arms. And when he leaned in to kiss me, his skin turned black, his eyes glowed red, long fangs replaced his canine teeth and a pair of big bat wings sprouted from his back. Yeah, he turned into a full-out demon and tried to rip my face off with his rotten claws.
Thank God the sheer horror woke me up. I was sitting up in bed, covered in sweat, panting out of breath, my heart pounding in my throat instead of my chest.
The cat ball on the chest of drawers flashed.
"It's Lizzie. You okay?"
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Just a nightmare."
"Sorry to intrude," she said. The Blotters were getting the hang of modern English just to be able to express more with fewer words. "I was checking on the twins when I heard you."
"Thank you, Lizzie." I checked the time. It was ten to six and I wasn't sure I wanted to try to sleep again, not even for the hour I had left. "I think I better get up. I'll be downstairs in twenty."
I took a quick shower, wore one of my brand-new rural outfits and started down the stairs, rubbing my arms in the cold hour before dawn. Soon I was opening the unlocked basement door, steamy speedwell tea in hand, using the phone flashlight to keep from missing a step and stumbling all the way down to the concrete floor.
I was about to reach the central pillar when I heard a shuffle behind me, from the stairs. I paused and looked back. Nobody in sight.
"It's me, Joseph."
"Oh, okay, thank you, but you didn't need to come."
"Never know."
I allowed myself to huff and shake my head, resuming my way to the corner. I didn't say anything. I just sat with my back against the wall, holding the mug with both hands to enjoy the warmth, and sipped my tea in no hurry. I felt the trace of heat on my left side as usual and smiled.
"Morning, my friend. They're coming today," I whispered. "Maybe we can get you outta here sooner than we thought."
"Careful."
"Joseph?"
"Not me."
"Kujo? What d'you mean?"
"Brandon cheater."
"Yeah, I need to keep that in mind. I have this bad feeling about him, y'know? That he's coming 'cause there's something he wants, and it has nothing to do with us, meaning you, the ritual, breaking the spell that keeps you chained down here."
"Arrogant."
"That I can tell."
"Could he try something?"
Plain to see that wasn't Kujo, but Joseph. I shrugged, grimacing. "I think that's what I'm afraid of. Can he hurt you in any way, Kujo?"
"Revenge. Amy explain."
"Oh, okay, I'll ask her when she comes downstairs."
We remained in silence. Well, at least I did. If Joseph and Kujo talked about anything else, I never got to know. When I finished my tea, let Kujo touch my forehead goodbye and headed back up the stairs, hearing the soft noise of a glass being settled on the kitchen counter. Amy was there, already wide awake and up like me.
"Looks like we're all too stressed up to sleep," I said, walking into the kitchen without closing the basement door.
"Too much tension in the air," she replied, nodding.
I told her about what Kujo had just said as we sat down at the table, at opposite heads in case the Blotters wanted to join us.
"Yesterday, Kujo relived for me the moment he was chained, and I wondered— Wait, I didn't say anything out loud."
"He reads minds."
Her eyes widened. "How come I didn't notice? Maybe he was still too weak to do it when I first met him? Whatever. Kujo grew too big to be wrapped around Price's neck like the parasites he's hosting now, so he stayed attached to Price with something like an umbilical cord that went straight into Price's node in the back of his neck. And when Price used the pendant, that cord was roughly torn off. Remember what I told you about healing the node as you remove a parasite?" I nodded, frowning. "Well, I don't think his node was ever healed."
"Oh," I murmured, getting the picture. "His node was left wide open, and maybe that's why now he goes around like Dr. Octopus."
"That's how you can tell he's got no real medium or psychic around. Not even a reiki master."
"But Kujo said revenge."
"No idea what he meant. But it wouldn't surprise me, considering the consequences of hosting Kujo."
"Whatever it is, over my dead body," I growled through clenched teeth.
I glanced out the window. The day was already breaking.
Plain to see the last hours until they arrived would feel like an eternity. Amy wanted to take a walk on her own, so I decided to grab my guitar and go on to the third floor to play. But on my way to the stairs, the cat ball flashed in the east parlor.
"Want to join us?" asked Lizzie.
"I'm sorry, but I'm in an awful mood and I wouldn't wanna upset you guys."
"Come play for us," said Ann.
You didn't say no to the lady of the Manor, so I nodded with a tight smile and did as she'd asked. And I was glad I did, because sitting there with them, on the couch under the window, playing and singing in whispers as I watched the sky get lighter over the woods, worked miracles to make me feel better.
I was surprised to see Mike through the window, circling the back of the Manor toward the guesthouse, on a Sunday morning, when it was hardly seven-thirty. I excused myself and hurried out. I regretted not grabbing my jacket right away. At least I was wearing my fat long turtle-neck sweater to protect me from the early frost and the freezing breeze. Mike spun around, hearing the frozen grass crack under my feet.
"Miss Garner?"
"Morning, Mike. Last minute news: our guests are arriving in a while, not on Tuesday. They called late last night, too late to call you and Susan to give you the heads up."
"Oh, don't worry, the guesthouse is ready. I just came to make sure the heating is working fine before going to church. It's been a while since we last used it, and I just wanted to check on it. The rest of the house is fine. We've already aired all the rooms and made the beds." He looked up, like sniffing the air. "Maybe we should bring some extra blankets, just in case."
"Yeah, why not." I was freezing where I stood, rubbing my arms and grinding my teeth. "Don't lock the door on your way out, and please drop by to leave an extra set of keys, if you happen to have one."
"Yes, Miss."
I forced a smile and hurried back to the Manor. Central heating is one of the greatest inventions in human history, and the Manor's temperature was warm, but there's nothing like some flames to give you the illusion of warming up. So I lit a burner and stretched my hands over it, to feel that little heat in my fingers. Amy found me like that, still shivering before the kitchen burner.
"Trisha didn't get up yet?" she asked, taking her jacket off to rub her arms. "It's already eight o'clock."
"Let her sleep. She's far from a morning person."
We decided to have a proper breakfast and sat down side by side to watch the news. I was almost about to relax a tad, enjoying Amy's waffles, when my phone buzzed. I grabbed it with a deep breath. Like I needed to read the text to know Price was around the corner.
"Ten minutes away."
"That's it?" asked Amy, reading from my phone. "No good morning, no nothing?"
"Meet Haunter charming," I replied sarcastically. "I'll be right back."
I trotted up the stairs, wore my old woolen socks up to my knees over the jeans, grabbed my winter jacket and my woolen hat, and hurried back down the stairs. I didn't even glance at the mirror. The last thing I cared about was my looks.
"They're here," I said as I walked past the east parlor.
"Already?"
The sleepy grunt made me look back and up, at Trish squinting down at me from the second-floor gallery, clearly just out of bed.
"Yup. Already."
Amy waited for me by the foyer door. I breathed even deeper, grabbed the small fabric pouch she handed me and opened the front door. Right in time: Price's black pickup truck was driving through the open gates. Amy closed the door behind her and stayed at the porch, while I walked down the stairs toward the truck that stopped by her car. I stopped too and waited, hands deep in my jacket's pockets, cap down to my eyes.
Price and his wingman got out of the car and I was surprised to see they looked wide awake and in the best of moods. He smiled with a pleased look around, zipping up his black jacket, and let the wingman worry about their bags to come to meet me, right hand stretched out to shake mine.
"Morning, Fran."
I didn't know why I had to force myself to touch him. "Welcome back to Blotter Manor, Mr. Price."
"C'mon! Still so serious? It's Brandon." Why the hell was he in such a merry mood?
I nodded to the guesthouse. "That's where you guys are staying. You can park there if you want.
He glanced at his friend, who hurried to drop whatever he was doing to climb behind the wheel. Since he didn't go back to the truck, I motioned for him to walk with me.
"This place looks even better than I remember," he said, looking around again when we started toward the guesthouse together.
"Maybe because you've seen it mostly at night?" He wasn't as tall as he'd seemed on his last visit, but he still was a whole head taller than me.
"Yeah, you're right. So? When can we get started?"
"You need to be well-rested for the cleansing, so you and your friend have the day off. Doctor's orders," I said, my thumb pointing back over my shoulder at Amy.
He glanced back at her and faced me with a mild frown. "The whole day? And what are we supposed to do out here?"
"Rest?" I replied softly. "The best thing about being in the middle of nowhere is that you're not exposed to big city distractions. Only nature. If you don't wanna sleep, feel free to roam about wherever you want. Save the Manor. I still can't welcome you into the house."
"Oh, yeah, the alleged attachments."
"Yup. Your current ones and the one you left me." The wingman drove slowly past us and I pointed at the front door. "It's open," I said, raising my voice for him to hear me.
He gave me a thumb up with a big smile and went to park with the bumper almost touching the guesthouse wall.
"We can't go into the Manor at all? Not even to start laying the wires and stuff?"
"Remember when I facetimed you from the basement?"
He nodded curtly. "Still that bad?"
"I'm afraid so."
"And what about that famous cleansing? How's it gonna be?"
"You'll find out tomorrow."
Both of us spun around, startled. Amy was only two steps behind us and looked up at Price without any trace of a smile.
"You're scary, Miss Taylor," he said, forcing a chuckle, and tried to shake her hand.
"Sorry. I ain't touching you until you're clean."
That seemed to strike a nerve that erased his smile. We were already at the guesthouse's small roofed porch. I opened the front door wide for the wingman to bring a bunch of duffel bags in. Amy sneaked in behind him, keeping me between her and Price, who waved for me to walk in.
"Ladies first."
He came in on my heels and closed the door behind him. I was glad to see the place looked squeaky clean, aired and warm like a good Airbnb. The gas heater in the fireplace offered the flames I was longing for a while earlier at the Manor kitchen.
"Bedroom upstairs?" asked the wingman.
"Yeah. Looks like you get to pick first," I replied.
I didn't know why, but I liked him. Maybe because his dear leader usually picked him for all the ugly solo experiments during their investigations and treated him like a butler. He had a frontal way to meet my eyes and the kind of smile you can't fake. And I have a thing for fellow underdogs. If you don't believe me, go check my basement.