In the Shadow of Blackbirds(16)

“The spirits of fallen war heroes appreciate it. It makes them feel they didn’t die in vain.” He steered me by my shoulders, away from my aunt and toward his growing collection of spirit photographs. What must have been a hundred sample photos hung on the longest interior wall, their frames wedged against one another in a fight for space on the walnut panels. The majority of the faceless spirits wore military uniforms and stood behind mortal sitters. Some of the ghosts rested their hands on their loved ones’ shoulders.

I heard breathing near the back of my neck and turned my head with a start. Aunt Eva had followed us like a shadow.

“Eva, please have a seat in the chair back there.” Julius nodded to a chair in the corner by the door—the pesky relative seat, or so it seemed.

“Do you need me to help with Mary Shelley’s hair or—”

“Please have a seat.” Julius gave another nod. “The spirits won’t want a crowd.”

With a wounded look, Aunt Eva retreated, and Julius pressed his fingers around mine again, guiding me across the room. “Let’s take off your mask and get you seated.”

“I’m not taking off my mask,” I said.

“I want to see your whole face in the photograph.”

“Are you off your rocker?” I tensed my legs in a solid stance and shook him off me. “I’ve seen how many people come into this musty, dark room. I’m not risking my life for a photograph.”

“All right, all right.” He took my hand again and chuckled as though he found my fear entertaining. “Good God, I’d forgotten what a stubborn old mule you are.”

“I also have two provisions before I sit for you.”

He lifted his eyebrows and laughed again. “And they are?”

I untangled my fingers from his. “First of all, you need to tell Aunt Eva you lied about the way you found Stephen and me the last time I was here.”

“Mary Shelley, our host is giving you free photographs,” said my aunt from her corner. “Please just sit down for him and stop embarrassing yourself.”

“I won’t sit down until he tells the truth.” I stared at Julius until he could no longer meet my eyes. Over by the phonograph, Gracie scratched at her arm and glanced down at her shoes.

“I may have exaggerated a little.” Julius peered straight at me again. “I’m sorry.”

“We weren’t on the sofa, were we?” I asked.

“No, but you were—” He bit his lip. “My brother said some things to me of a personal, sensitive nature, and—as brothers sometimes fight—I might have added some details about what I saw.” He studied my face for a reaction.

I turned toward my aunt. “Did you hear that, Aunt Eva?”

“The entire island of Coronado heard that, Mary Shelley. Please just put this subject to rest and sit down.” She rubbed her flushed neck and looked like she wanted to disappear inside the walls.

I returned my attention to Julius. “I’d also like to see Stephen’s parcel before I sit.”

“Of course. Gracie, pull out the package Stephen prepared for our guest. It’s in the top drawer of the desk.”

His cousin scuttled over to a small desk topped with three glowing candles, and the flames twitched and danced as she approached. The flickering light made the faces in the nearby photos seem to move.

Gracie squeaked open a drawer and held up a rectangular item wrapped in brown paper. “Is this the one?”

“Yes,” said Julius. “Will you assure Miss Black it’s Stephen’s handwriting on the front?”

“Oh yes, it’s his.” Gracie beamed at the words on the paper. “His penmanship was always so much better than mine.”

That was of hers made my blood run cold.

“All right.” I gave Julius a nod. “Those were my conditions. As long as you understand I’m only doing this for my aunt’s sake and not because I believe in your ghosts, I’ll sit for one quick picture.”

He gestured toward a high-backed chair with a plum-colored cushion, positioned in front of a black background curtain. “Please have a seat.”

I walked over to the chair and lowered myself to the cushion with a shiver. The room felt like a northern basement at the peak of winter, musty odor included. Stephen’s words from my last visit entered my mind: He also runs a fan over ice blocks in between sittings to cool the air in there. He tries to make everyone feel like phantoms are hovering around the studio.

Julius knelt to position me as he desired and guided my knees to the left in a way that tickled, but I clamped my teeth together to keep from flinching or laughing. He tilted my gauze-covered chin to the right.

“How badly did you injure him that day?” I asked in a voice too quiet for Aunt Eva to hear.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean. My aunt dragged me out of here so quickly, I never got to ask if those thuds were the sounds of you slamming his head against the wall.”

He kept my chin in his hand. “Brothers fight when we upset each other. That’s just how we are.”

“Is everything all right?” asked Aunt Eva. Uneasiness tinged her voice.

“Everything’s fine.” Julius got to his feet.

I swallowed. “Has Stephen written? Do you know if—”