In the Shadow of Blackbirds(70)

“Oh?” I squirmed again. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”

“I’ve been nervous. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me.” I pressed my fingers over the back of her clammy hand. “I’m glad you came.”

She turned her face away from me. “Last night I dreamed you died of the flu.”

“Oh,” Aunt Eva and I said in unison.

“I’m sorry if that’s a terrible thing to dream, but I realized I should come before it’s too late. I know you and Stephen were close—he told me stories about you ever since he used to come down to visit as a child. I … need to speak to him.”

My heart beat faster. “What did you want to say to him?”

“I want to tell him …” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I just want to say … I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I—I want to tell him I miss him.”

I looked to Aunt Eva, who scowled and shook her head.

“My aunt is uncomfortable with the idea of me summoning him.” I stroked Gracie’s wrist. “Maybe you should join us in the kitchen for some breakfast, like she said, and we could chat for a while. I’ll tell you the types of things Stephen has been saying to me, and you can help me figure out what’s troubling him.”

Gracie lifted her head. “He’s troubled?”

I scraped my teeth against my bottom lip. “Yes. Very much so.”

“Contact him for me, please!” She squeezed my hand. “Please let me speak to him. What if you do get this flu? How am I going to communicate with him then?”

Aunt Eva rose from her chair. “Let’s go have some breakfast—”

“No—look at me.” Gracie pulled off her wig and revealed a startling bald head with a downy covering of new white hair. “Look what the flu did to me. I’m one of the survivors, and look what it did. Grant thought I was dead one night, and he even laid a sheet over me and called an undertaker. I’m one of the lucky ones, and look what I’m like. When this flu gets you, I might never get a chance to talk to my poor cousin.”

“Come into the kitchen.” I stood and pulled Gracie to her feet. “We’ll contact him out there.”

Aunt Eva blanched. “No!”

“Keep all the knives and scissors hidden.” I brushed past her. “Open the windows so the neighbors can hear you scream if something goes wrong, but let me help him.”

“I don’t want him in this house.”

“Then let us put him to rest, Aunt Eva, so he can leave. You can talk to him yourself if you’d like, or go hide in your room, but this needs to be done.”

Gracie tugged her wig back over her head, and I led our guest back to the pea-soup-green kitchen, where the little circular table would make a fine spot for a séance.

“Do we need candles?” asked Gracie.

“That doesn’t seem to matter.” I pulled out a chair for Stephen’s cousin and lowered myself into a seat that faced away from the windows. I didn’t want to see any crows or blackbirds perched on the orange trees out there … or even banished Oberon, trying to find his way back in.

To my utter shock, Aunt Eva rushed into the room and slipped into one of the two remaining chairs. “Do it quickly. I swear, if anyone gets hurt—”

“He doesn’t want to hurt any people. Everyone will be safe.”

“Should we hold hands?” asked Gracie.

“Not yet.” I placed my palms on the table. “I’d actually like to start by asking you some questions, Gracie.”

“Me?” Gracie recoiled. “What types of questions?”

“Be kind, Mary Shelley,” warned Aunt Eva. “Remember what I said about prying into other people’s business.”

“I know. But I need answers.” I peered straight into Gracie’s pale brown eyes. “Tell me the truth—does Julius seem like an honest person to you?”

Gracie flinched, and an avalanche of curdled milk sloshed down my throat. I gagged on the stomach-souring awfulness and braced my hands against the table to keep from retching.

Aunt Eva reached out to me. “What’s wrong?”

I gulped down the guilt-soaked flavor with a grimace. “I’m fine. Just a moment …”

“Are you going to get sick?” asked Aunt Eva.

“I’m fine.” I cleared my throat with a deep, uncomfortable sound. “Um … all right … let me be more specific, Gracie. When you helped Julius at his studio, did you ever see him cheat?”

Gracie shook her head, and the sour taste softened. “I didn’t ever go into Julius’s darkroom with him, but I was there when Mr. Darning came to investigate him one time.”

“What did Mr. Darning do?” I asked.

“He marked his initials on blank photographic plates to make sure Julius wasn’t switching them with used ones. And Julius passed all his tests, which seemed to puzzle Mr. Darning. There were reporters there and everything. Oh, and look.” She popped open a silver locket dangling around her neck below her flu mask. “Here’s a photo Julius took of me and my mother’s spirit.”

I leaned in close, but I saw only a fuzzy streak of light behind a somber image of Gracie, who was seated in front of Julius’s black background curtain. “I just see a blur.”