The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(90)

“I need to use the bathroom first—my bladder hasn’t yet recovered from my pregnancy and still seems to be the size of a peanut. Is there one that’s usable?”

“Yes—the one adjacent to Button’s room. I’ve tidied it up some, too, since my girl students were complaining that they had to use the Port-O-Lets outside.”

“There isn’t one down here?”

“Not one that works.”

If only I hadn’t had the entire water bottle Sophie had made me drink. I looked up at the stairs, weighing my options. I’d already gone up and back without incident, so it made sense that I should be able to do it again. If I was really fast. “I’ll be right back,” I said, then ran up the stairs, determined to get back downstairs before the unhappy spirit realized I was upstairs again. I walked quickly through Button’s room to the bathroom, thinking twice before I decided to leave the door open. There was no window in the small space, and only one bulb flicked on when I hit the switch. Nobody else was upstairs, and I was going to be quick. I just felt the need to be able to see into the bedroom.

I began humming “Dancing Queen” as I reached for the waistband of my yoga pants and then stopped, feeling a definite shift in the air, a sliding together of light and dark. The temperature dropped and I shivered, but not from the cold.

I heard a noise, a slight tap-tap on the open door. I stared at the empty space, knowing something was there, knowing if I really wanted to, I could see it. “Anna? Hasell?” I whispered, then waited, my breaths coming out in white, silent puffs.

For several long moments, I stood there without moving, just waiting. I wanted to tell them to leave, that nobody wanted them there and that the house now belonged to Jayne. But if I’d learned anything in the years since my mother had returned to my life and we’d sent other restless spirits onto the next step on their journey, I knew it wasn’t that simple. Wishing it were would never make it true.

I took a deep breath. “Please let me help you. You don’t have to be here anymore. Just let me help.”

The door swung shut so fast it grazed the side of my face. I stepped back in surprise, and found myself at the sink staring into an ancient mirror with half of the silvered backing flaked off.

Go away. The words were screamed inside my head, my eardrums ringing from the shrillness. I felt the pain on my neck immediately, the skin raw and stinging like multiple scratches, and I wanted to cry out, but I was already screaming. I had only a moment to register the blond woman with the wild hair and hollow eyes standing behind me, a deep purple welt encircling her neck, before the lightbulb exploded, sending me into complete darkness.





CHAPTER 26


Imust have been desperately scratching at the bathroom door, because by the time Sophie turned the knob—she insisted it wasn’t locked—and pulled the door open, I had broken three nails and the skin on the back of my neck felt as if it were on fire.

“What happened?” she asked, clutching both of my shoulders after I stumbled into the bedroom. I was grateful for the support, not sure I could have remained standing without it.

“Anna,” I gasped. “It was Anna. I saw her—in the mirror. She had . . . bruises.” I couldn’t say it out loud. Instead I pointed to my throat.

“Bruises on her neck? Like a hanging victim?”

I nodded.

She brushed my hair off my neck. “What happened here?”

I touched the nape of my neck and my hand came back sticky with blood, the salt from my fingertips stinging the wound. “She scratched me. And told me to go away.”

Sophie grabbed my arm and began dragging me toward the door. “Let’s get you out of here. Can you handle the stairs?”

I paused, testing the air around me to make sure Anna was gone, then nodded. Sophie clutched my arm and walked with me down the stairs, then out of the house to her car. She blasted the air-conditioning and I sat down, catching sight of both boxes that were already in the backseat.

“So, what do you think that was all about?” Sophie asked, her eyes wide, her hair sprouting curly whorls around her head from the humidity.

“I’m not sure, but I do think I know one thing: Anna is the one who doesn’t want us there. It must be Hasell who balances her mother’s rage. I’ve heard of possessive spirits who didn’t welcome intruders, but Anna seems to have gone a little overboard. And I have no idea why Hasell is still here—unless it’s to act as a barrier between her mother and the living.”

“I’d be inclined to agree with you, except for this.” She reached behind my seat and pulled out a reusable grocery bag—one of several I knew she always kept in her car. She dumped it on my lap, and whatever objects were inside rolled against one another with a light clacking noise.

“Open it,” she said.

I did as she instructed, then reached inside and pulled out the base of a broken snow globe, the word SACRAMENTO spelled out in plastic block lettering in bright green. The back two legs of a Pony Express pony stuck to the base, its front hooves broken off. “I found four smashed snow globes when I went up to the attic to instruct the guys where to move everything so we could begin the roof repair. They were in a neat circle, as if they were broken intentionally and for a purpose. I would even go as far as saying that they were broken in such a way as to cause the least damage. Like they were trying to send a message instead of being just destructive.”