Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(3)

“The Dead came,” I mumbled.

A crease folded down her forehead. “What do you mean, ‘the Dead came’? What is that for an answer? What Dead?”

I shrank back, fighting the urge to run past her through the open door. “Th-the walking corpses,” I stammered. “The ones people have been talking about. One came to the train depot, so everyone was evacuated.”

“What?” She threw her hands in the air. “But this is cause for alarm, Eleanor! If you were in danger—”

“No!” I lunged at her, my head shaking to keep her calm. “No, I’m fine. Elijah wasn’t there anyway.”

“He... he was not there?” Her eyebrows drooped, and she lowered her hands.

“No, but he left a message.”

“Where?”

“At the telegraph office.”

“I mean, where is the message? Give it to me.”

I licked my lips. “I don’t have it. I must have dropped it when the Dead alarm rang.”

“Hmph.” She folded her arms over her ample chest. “What did the note say? Will he be on the afternoon train?”

“No.” I shook my head slowly as a story unfolded in my mind. “Not on the afternoon train. He ran into some friends in New York, so he’s going to stay. For a few days, or perhaps longer.”

She groaned and pressed her hands to her forehead. “Three years away with nary a letter, and now he changes his plans with no warning at all. We need him here—does he not realize this? You explained that in your last letter, did you not?”

“Of course, Mama.” I had written to Elijah of our financial problems long before she had nagged me to. In every letter I had begged Elijah to hurry home and resume our dead father’s work. But Elijah never responded to those passages.

“And what of our party tonight?” Mama insisted. “What am I to do?”

“We could cancel,” I said hopefully.

She snorted. “Of course we cannot cancel. The walking Dead must have addled your brain, Eleanor. This is our first party in years—our chance to impress the Wilcoxes. The guests have accepted our invitations, and I will not squander this opportunity.”

I cringed. Merciful heavens, a party was the last thing I wanted to endure. To babble in polite chatter and pretend all was well? It seemed impossible.

After Father died, my family stopped receiving invitations to parties. I’d thought it was Mama’s grief that kept our calling card bowl empty. I’d thought it was our year-long mourning that kept us tied to the house. But as I’d gotten older, I’d realized that it was society’s decision to ignore us—not my mother’s—and I could conjure only one reason for this isolation: the raving paranoia my father had suffered from before his death. His babbling cries of enemies, sabotage, and revenge had frightened my family and me. I could see how it would frighten other families as well.

“Consider the expense of our party,” Mama continued. She began to pace. “All that money for nothing! We cannot waste such food and preparation. Although... the entire affair was meant for Elijah, which means we must offer our guests some other form of entertainment.”

“We must?” I squeaked.

“Yes, yes.” She drummed her fingers against her lips. “There are too few guests for a ball and too many guests for cards, and literary debates are so dreadfully dull.”

She continued her steps, muttering more solutions to herself.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took the moment to calm my nerves. I had to keep this brittle control in front of Mama or else I would blurt out everything.

“I have it,” she said.

I snapped my eyes open. Mama was stopped midstride with a finger thrust in the air. “We shall have a séance.” Her face filled with pride.

I was not nearly so pleased with her solution. “Why?” I croaked.

“Why not? We used to have them all the time.”

I swallowed and flicked my eyes around the room.

“What is wrong with a séance?” Mama pursed her lips and squinted at me.

“I-I’m still upset by the Dead at the depot. Contacting the spirits sounds...” I trailed off and shrugged.

“Ah.” She tapped the side of her nose. “I see. Well, you needn’t worry. The séances have never worked before, and we won’t have time to hire a medium for tonight. It will be quite casual. Purely entertainment, Eleanor.”

“All right.” She was correct, of course. She’d conducted dozens of séances, but even with a medium, she’d never been able to contact Father. Besides, my chest was starting to ache from my secrets. I needed her to leave before the truth came spilling out. “A séance will be perfect then.”

“Yes, I think so too.” She grinned. “It is cheap, and everyone loves the drama. People still talk of Mrs. Bradley’s séance.” She chuckled.

I tried to laugh with her, but it came out breathy and shrill.

“Are you all right, dear?” Mama asked. “Did the Dead truly disturb you? Did you actually see this walking corpse?” She inspected my face, and I had to fight to keep my body still. Why couldn’t she just leave already?

“N-no. I didn’t see it.” I licked my lips. “I’m fine, Mama. It’s just so... it’s so hot.”