The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(116)

Ginette tugged on my hand and, with her phone flashlight guiding the way, led us up the stairs.

The frigid air blew into my lungs, stinging my eyes and skin, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe. “Anna’s here,” I whispered, mostly to make sure my voice still worked.

“Jayne?” Ginette called out.

A groan came from the bed. Ginette aimed the beam in that direction, illuminating the figure of a woman curled into the fetal position. We took a step toward the bed, stopping when we hit a wall of frigid air.

My mother’s hand trembled. “That’s from Jayne—she’s blocking everything now, to protect us. But she’s growing weak.”

An odd yet familiar fluttering rose from the hidden stairs, overwhelming the noise of the storm. It was flies, hundreds and hundreds of flies, hurtling their small, rigid bodies at the walls, swarming in the small space. “Jack?” I yelled into the opening.

“I’m here,” he shouted, but it sounded as if he was out of breath. “I can’t get out—something’s holding me down.” He coughed, and I thought of the flies blocking his airways, slowly suffocating him. “The flies are . . . everywhere.”

I pulled on my mother’s hand to drag her with me to Jack, but she pulled me back. “No. It’s a trap. We need to make sure Jayne’s all right first.” She squeezed my hand. “And then we fight.”

I called down the steps, shouting to be heard over the buzzing, “Jack—hang on!”

With rapid, careful steps we moved into the middle of the room. A swishing sound came from above our heads and we looked up. Long strips of sheets swirled from the rafter, undulating like a human form. I grabbed my mother’s hand and ran toward the bed and the still figure lying in the middle.

Ginette tossed the phone on the bed near me and began stripping off her gloves, putting her fingers on a vein in Jayne’s neck. “Hold the flashlight, and take Jayne’s hand. She’s weak from fighting, but her pulse is strong. Hold tight, and don’t let go no matter what happens.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, then watched as she took Jayne’s other hand. She grew rigid, like a divining rod finding water. A surge of electricity traveled from my mother’s body and through Jayne, tingling across my palms and up through my fingertips. Jayne’s body began to tremble, then shake, her fingers slipping from mine.

“Don’t let go,” Ginette shouted just as the phone slipped from my grasp and fell facedown, leaving us in complete darkness.

I found Jayne’s hand again and grabbed, determined not to let it go again.

“Melanie? Are you here?” From the pressure on the bed near where I sat, I was aware of Jayne digging in her heels against the mattress, trying to sit up against the headboard.

“Yes, Melanie’s here. And so am I,” Ginette said, her voice intense. “You’ve been fighting Anna by yourself. Let’s show her now what the three of us can do.”

We stood with our hands gripped together tightly, the whir of sheets tumbling in the air and filling the space between raindrops and thunderclaps.

My mother’s voice was quiet at first, and then seemed to gain strength from some unknown source. I felt the power through our clasped hands, the untapped strength of this delicate-looking woman. “Anna, release Hasell so she can move on to a better place. To a place where she can rest and find peace. If you ever loved her, let her go.”

The darkness around us vibrated with an unknown entity, a dark emotion I’d yet to experience and knew I never wanted to. The sheets above us whipped at the ceiling and the wall, seeking something. Someone.

My mother continued, her fingers icy cold in mine as if she were directing all her energy to communicating with the dead. “We know you didn’t mean to kill her, Anna. That it was an accident. Was it your guilt that made you hang yourself in this room? Was it? You can find no forgiveness for what you did. But we forgive you. We know the truth now, and there’s no reason to keep Hasell here. We forgive you, so you can move on, too. Move on, Anna. Move on from this house and let Jayne live here. It is her rightful home. Let her be.”

A frigid wind whipped past us, a long strip of sheeting wrapping its ends around and around my neck, gradually getting tighter and tighter. I knew my mother was watching, could feel her hold on me tighten. “We are stronger than you,” she chanted. “We are stronger than you.”

Jayne joined in. “We are stronger than you. We are stronger thanyou.”

I was gasping and choking the words, but I managed to speak them, feeling the strength of my mother and sister surge through me.

“Let her go,” my mother shouted. “Move on from this place. You are forgiven. Go seek your judgment.”

The sweet, pungent smell of pipe tobacco wafted over us, my brain clinging to the scent as bright bubbles of light popped in front of my eyes while the sheet grew tighter and tighter.

“Sumter’s here, Anna. To show you the way. He loved you. It was always you. I know you didn’t believe it—couldn’t believe it—but it’s true. And now he’s here. He wants to help you. To guide you. Please, Anna, let him. Give us all peace.”

“Let us go,” Jayne said. “Don’t let your anger bind you to this place of sorrow and regret. Go be with your husband and daughter. Be together again.”

Mama. The word wasn’t spoken out loud, but I felt it inside my head, and surrounding me. The sheet around my neck loosened slightly and I gulped a lungful of air.