Page 26 of Phantasm

Bored of being ignored.

I’ve searched every crook and cranny in the house for clues about what happened to my dad. The only place left to search is Darian’s office.

I’m on my way there, when I do a double take outside the kitchen.

I backtrack, a smile creeping onto my lips. “Mrs. Jones?”

She’s wiping down the large island, but at the sound of my voice, she looks up. “Cecilia!” Seeming to catch herself, she lowers her voice. “You can’t be seen talking to me in public.”

I enter the room. “It’s so good to see you. The last time?—”

“We polished glasses at the cottage before Mr. Delacroix called you into his office.” She tuts, resuming her wiping. “You got yourself into a right mess.”

It feels so good to see a familiar face in this gilded cage. Throwing myself at her, I squeeze her so tight that she almost wheezes.

She pats me awkwardly. “There. There.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“Miss… We really can’t be seen together.”

I release her, my cheeks hurting from smiling. “Darian is out for the day.”

“Darian?” She shakes her head with disapproval. “You’re on a first-name basis now?”

“Never mind that. How are the others?”

A shadow dims her smile. “Many were lost on Reckoning night. Too many.” She shakes her head again, scooping breadcrumbs into her palm and discarding them in the trashcan. “It never gets easier.”

I wish I knew what to say to make it better.

“Keith was a good man,” she continues, staring down at the trash, lost in memories. “Good integrity. Fought a losing battle.”

“He was a great man,” I agree.

“You shouldn’t have entered the lair.” She avoids my gaze on her way to the sink. “It was a suicide mission.”

“He knew what he was getting into.”

She whirls around. “That doesn’t make it right. He was driven by hatred and a misplaced desire for revenge. More death isn’t the answer to pain. It won’t bring his loved ones back.” Tears cling to her lashes as her jaw tightens. “And it won’t bring yours back either.”

A lump has formed in my throat. I swallow it down. “I know…”

Mrs. Jones brushes down her black maid’s skirt and then wipes the counter while I worry my lip. She’s right. It was my idea to invade the nest. I suggested it, so their deaths are on me.

It’s easy to be excited in the moment and feel like there’s a purpose behind the mission. We thought we would go out in flames. That our sacrifice would somehow make a difference.

It didn’t.

I quickly wipe my tears. “Have you heard from Lauren?”

Mrs. Jones’s shoulders stiffen, and she falters, but only momentarily.

Heart stuttering, I march up to her. “You have. Please tell me that she’s okay?”

“I must not be seen with you.” She hurries to wash the dishcloth and then hangs it over the tap, but I block her way when she tries to move past me.

“How is she? I deserve to know.”