Ida’s hand trembled on the lantern’s handle. Light flickered over the walls and corners. Ida had come for knowledge, and now she knew. Knew beyond a doubt that she faced a terrible evil. There was no scream as the candle sputtered and the whispers began. And just as Ida found the scream she’d held at bay, her candle gave out, and she was plunged into darkness.
THE HOTSY TOTSY
It had been a thudding bore of a day; rain had kept Evie inside at the museum, where she amused herself by rearranging the books on one shelf according to a taxonomy only she understood. When she thought she’d lose her mind listening to the rain and plodding through the boredom, she was cheered by the thought that—if she survived the afternoon—she’d enjoy what promised to be an exciting evening out with her friends. Now the evening had come at last. Evie had bathed, perfumed herself, and gone through every ensemble in her closet before settling on a silver bugle-bead dress that shimmered over her body like rain. She wore a long string of pearls wrapped twice around her neck. On her feet were a pair of gray satin Mary Janes with curved black heels and saucer-shaped rhinestone buckles. She painted her lips deep red, ringed her eyes in black, and topped it all off with a black velvet coat with a fur collar. She slipped twenty dollars of her dwindling reserves into a mesh tile purse, spritzed herself with a blast from her atomizer, and breezed into the parlor. Jericho sat at the kitchen table, painting miniatures for a battle-scene model. Uncle Will sat at his messy desk by the bay windows, surrounded by piles of paper and books.
Hearing Evie, he raised his head for a second, studied her, and went back to his work. “You’re rather done up.”
Evie pulled on her opera-length, fingerless lace gloves. “I’m going dancing with Theta and Henry at the most darling nightclub.”
“Not tonight, I’m afraid,” Will said.
Evie stopped mid-glove. “But Unc, Theta’s expecting me. If I don’t go, it will pos-i-tute-ly be an insult. She’ll never ask me to do anything again!”
“If you haven’t heard the news, there’s a brutal murderer roaming the streets of Manhattan.”
“But Unc—”
“I’m sorry, Evie. It simply isn’t safe. There’ll be another time. I’m sure Athena will understand.”
“It’s Theta. And no, she won’t.” Evie could feel the tears threatening. She’d spent ages dolling up her eyes, and she blinked hard to keep them from smearing. “Please, Unc.”