“Um, no. Sam, whatever you did, I need you to fix it stat,” Mary says with such a serious face that even Alice smiles.
I put both hands up in the air and do my best surrendering voice. “Okay, okay. I concede. You’re not fancy. Not even a little. Éclairs are an everyman’s food.”
He chuckles and puts the box back down on the table. “You girls sure you’ll have enough space in here? We have more bedrooms if you want them.”
“Two queen-sized beds are more than enough. And besides, we work better as a unit,” Alice says, and I warm. I’m part of a unit.
“Fair enough,” my dad says. “I’m headed to bed now, but just let Sam know if you need anything.”
“Night, Dad. Love you.”
He closes the door behind him, and it takes Mary all of two seconds to grab the éclair box.
She pulls the string and opens the lid. “Wow. Just, wow. They’re decorated with rosebuds. They look like little works of art.” Mary tilts the box so we can see. In her plaid pajamas, with her dark curls piled on top of her head, she looks just like a little kid.
Alice raises an eyebrow. “If you even think about eating mine, I will push you out of bed while you’re sleeping.”
Mary curls up in an armchair with a mouth full of éclair. “What? I can’t hear you; I’m busy.”
Alice takes the other armchair, and Susannah and I sit on the bed near them. Mary hands us the pastry box. There is a meow behind me.
“Really?” I turn around, and sure enough, the black cat is sitting on the bed, staring at me from under its Neanderthal brow.
“What?” Mary asks.
“That cat I told you about. For unknown reasons, this black behemoth slept in my bed last night. And by the way it’s all spread out now, I think it might be here to stay with us tonight.”
Susannah turns around and scans the bed. “Where?”
Alice leans forward in her black silk pajamas to get a better look. “Just to be clear, you’re saying there’s a black ghost cat on that bed with you?”
“Yeah, right here.” I put my hand out behind me, and it rubs its head against my fingers.
Alice smirks. “Leave it to you to become a witch cliché in less than a week.”
Mary claps her hands together and lets out a little squeal. “I love this. Spirit cats I can totally deal with, spirit humans…not so much.”
“Actually, speaking of spirits, I have a suggestion,” Alice says.
“Oh no.” Mary frowns. “Don’t ruin my happy moment.”
Alice looks at Mary. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“I don’t have to. If you were sure about it, you would just tell us we’re doing it. If you’re suggesting it, that means it’s either super uncomfortable or risky.”
“Hear, hear,” Susannah says.
“Everyone just untwist your panties for a second,” says Alice. “Nothing we’re doing right now isn’t risky. If we wanted to be safe, we would’ve locked ourselves up in my protected room all weekend. We’re at Sam’s house, which is clearly a hot spot for weird shit. And we need information.”
Alice swallows her last bite and wipes her hands on a napkin before continuing. “Tomorrow we’ll research Myra and the weird objects that have been showing up to see if we can connect the dots. But what if we go a step further than research and try to talk to her in person? Maybe she can tell us what the deal is with the hat and why all these objects are appearing.”
“Like try to summon her spirit?” Mary pulls her knees a little closer to her body.
“Yeah. With Sam’s abilities, it makes a lot of sense,” Alice says.
Susannah’s eyebrows push together. “We have no idea what side of this Myra’s on. Yes, we need information. But we could be walking straight into a huge problem. And Samantha can see spirits, but they can also hurt her. We’re specifically putting her at risk. Or maybe setting ourselves up for a trap.”
“It’s less risky than using that potion on the dress,” I say. “And Myra is the common denominator in most of these clues. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is see more spirits, but I’m fully with Alice on this one.”
Mary frowns. “But that spell’s in the gray area.”
“Gray area?” Do I want to know?
“It’s not good or bad magic, but somewhere in between,” Susannah says. “Gray spells leave lots of room for error. You can’t exactly control them, and you don’t know what you’re gonna get. Not everyone can do gray spells. Alice is banking on your natural ability, I think. And since you’re untrained, a world of things could go wrong.”
“You are certainly not doing that spell. Is this the type of nonsense you have been discussing all day in that room where I cannot watch you?” Elijah stands by the door, his jaw set.
I jump. “You do not just get to pop in here and criticize like that. If you wanted to be included, you should never have let me believe you left!” Even as the words leave my mouth, I’m surprised by how raw they sound.
For a split second Elijah seems unsure. “Samantha, this is not the time for that discussion.”
I slide off the bed. “Because you chose to blink in while my friends were here? Not my fault.”
“Um, what’s going on?” Mary’s eyes are wide, and her voice is high-pitched.
Elijah looks flustered. “This is not any more comfortable for me than it is for you.”
“Samantha?” Susannah says, and looks back and forth between me and the door I appear to be yelling at.
I lift my chin. “We’re doing the spell. And I don’t need your input.”
Alice’s mouth opens. “So, not the drowned man, then.”
Elijah’s stubborn expression intensifies. “You are not doing that spell and that is the end of it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Indeed.” Elijah blinks out.
I’m left standing there with my hands clenched and my chest rising and falling emphatically. The girls stare at me.
“That”—I wave angrily at the door—“was Elijah. Alice, set up the spell,” I say with force.
Alice heads for her overnight bag and digs around in it for a moment. She pulls out a black cloth pouch. “Sam, I really think—” The cloth pouch disappears from her hand. Alice’s eyes widen. “What the hell?”
I shake my hands in the air. “Give that back!”
Nothing.
“Alice, is there another way to do the spell without whatever was in that bag?”
The lights go out. Mary screams.
“Damn it, Elijah!” I march over to the light switch and flick it up and down. Nothing. I open the door. The dim light from the hallway floods in. I peer inside my floor lamp. He didn’t just turn the light off. He took the bulb.
“Sam?” My dad comes to the door, concern written all over him. “What happened? I heard someone scream.”
I steady my voice. “Lightbulb blew.”
He examines the lamp. “You mean gone?” He sounds unsure.
“We took it out.”
“Oh. Well, let me get you another one. You girls get in bed.”
“Okay, thanks, Dad.”
Mary doesn’t hesitate. She looks all kinds of relieved we’re not doing that spell and jumps under one of the comforters.
My dad leaves the door open and makes his way down the hall.
I pull the covers up over my shoulders.
“So Elijah’s back?” Susannah asks.
“Apparently,” I say.
“Wasn’t he a pretty important part of figuring out what was going on with your stepmother?” Susannah asks.
Damn it. “Yes.”
“Screw Susannah’s gentle approach. I don’t know what happened between you two, but are you really that stubborn?” Alice asks. “You know we’re already in the danger zone with this. Weren’t you the one just saying you’re all in?”
“Point taken,” I say begrudgingly. The black cat curls up against my side and blinks at me. “Move over, cat.”
&nb
sp; “Maybe you should call the cat Spirit,” Mary suggests.
“Or bed hog,” I say, rubbing its head between the ears.
“His name is Broome,” Elijah says.
I scowl into the blackness.
I stand in front of the mirror in my cabin. Mollie repositions the lavender sash on my white afternoon dress. I look like a giant doily.
“Now yer hat, miss.” Mollie holds up a wide-brimmed white hat trimmed with purple flowers.
“Are you sure I need it?” I ask, eyeing the hat like it’s a foreign object.
Mollie smiles, and the freckles on her cheeks rise. “Unless ya want ta get sunburned while yer walkin’ round the promenade deck?”
“I can handle a little sunburn.”
“And get me in trouble? Not likely.” She places the hat on my head without hesitation and pins it in place. A sheer veil drops over my eyes.
“Done?”
“Just yer parasol and ya can be on yer way.” She holds out a frilly umbrella.
“I’m sorry, Mollie, but I have to draw the line somewhere. There are only so many accessories a person can wear, and that thing pushes me over the edge.”
Mollie puts her hand on her hip. “Never in me life have I come across a lady that dislikes getting dressed as much as you do.”
“That’s why you love me.” I smile at her and head for the door. “You coming?”
She sighs and puts down the parasol.
We walk side by side through the hallway and out onto the deck. The sun is shining, there’s a cool salty breeze, and everything sparkles—the water, the people, the mood.
“Enjoying the afternoon, niece?” Uncle Harry asks, and I turn. His black hat shields his eyes from the bright sun. Hammad is with him, walking by his side.
“Very much so.”
“Good. Good. I am off to join Mr. Stead for lunch. I would invite you, but as I understand it, you have quite the social engagement.” He smiles at me in such a kind way that I actually feel warmer.
This ship really is lovely, especially today. “Yes, of course. Please send Mr. Stead my regards.”
My uncle bows. “Right-o. See you this evening.”
I scan the deck, which is filled with finely dressed men and women. There is an empty bench a ways down with a good view of the water.
I turn to Mollie. “So what’s this social engagement he was talking about?”
“Yer uncle arranged fer ya ta have lunch with Madeleine Astor at Café Parisien. She’s only a couple a years older than ya. Lucile Carter, Gladys Cherry…oh, and the Countess of Rothes. There are a few others as well. I’m sure ya will enjoy yerself. They are absolutely the who’s who of the ship.”
I laugh and do my best English accent. “Lots of tea sipping and ‘Oh, isn’t that dress darling. And this hat, I just couldn’t live without it. It simply matches everything.’ ”
Mollie almost laughs, but catches herself. “Yer just terrible.”
We arrive at the bench at the same time as a middle-aged man with a black mustache.
“Pardon me, miss,” he says in a thick Spanish accent, and bows.
“Samantha Mather,” I say.
“Manuel Uruchurtu,” he says.
“Are you taking a trip to New York?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Mexico City. I am quite looking forward to seeing my beautiful wife and our seven children. I’ve been gone for nearly two months.”
“You were visiting Europe, then?”
“Visiting old friends in France. I was actually scheduled to take another ship altogether, but a friend of mine persuaded me to trade tickets with him. Please take the bench, Miss Mather,” Manuel says, looking from Mollie to me. “I will find another one.”
“No, no, you take it. I have a lunch soon anyway. You can enjoy the view for both of us. I insist,” I reply.
We share a smile, and Mollie and I continue across the deck.
“How much time do we have, Mollie? Before the lunch, I mean.”
“A little under an hour, I would guess,” she says.
We stop at a chain marking the end of the first-class promenade area.
I run my fingers over the metal links. “An hour? Hmmm.” I smile mischievously at Mollie. “Have you been to any of the other decks besides the first-class ones?”
“Aye.”
“How about we go exploring?”
Mollie watches me. “I don’t like the look in yer eyes, not one bit.”
“Steerage is in the front and the back of the ship, right?” By Mollie’s expression I know I’m right.
I bend down and duck under the chain, careful not to catch my hat on it.
“Miss!” I stop at the concerned sound of Mollie’s voice. “Ya know that part of the ship is sectioned off.”
“If it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be any fun,” I say.
She looks over her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to come with me. I’ll tell my aunt and uncle that it was my idea and you had nothing to do with it.” I turn around and walk as fast as my dress will allow me toward the front of the ship.
Before I get ten steps away, Mollie is at my side.
“Oh, really?” I say, smiling at her.
“Better ta be actin’ foolish with ya than ta be lonesome.” She smiles, too. “Besides, ya wouldn’t last ten minutes without me. We need ta get off this main deck before we draw attention.”
She winds me through back hallways and empty passages. And when one of the ship’s crew members comes along, we jump out of sight.
Mollie stops in the center of a quiet hall and lowers her voice. Not that there is much chance anyone would hear us over the roar of the engines in this part of the ship. “We have two options. Around this corner is a locked gate leadin’ ta third class. The guard is young and would probably be easy ta convince, but ye’ll have ta be real firm. Or, we can take the longer way around, which includes some passages only used by crew. However, if we get caught, it’ll absolutely look like we’re doin’ somethin’ we shouldn’t.”
“Hmmm. Okay. Let’s go with the first option.”
We round the corner and walk toward a ceiling-high gate with an eighteen-year-old guard in front of it.
He stands up a little straighter when he sees us. “Is everything okay, miss? Are you lost?”
“Everything’s just fine. If you would unlock the gate, please, we’ll be on our way.”
His eyes widen. “The gate, miss? I cannot do that.”
“Of course you can,” I say with a smile.
He starts fidgeting. “It is against immigration regulations.”
“It would be against regulations if ya let steerage passengers out, not if ya let us in,” Mollie says.
He seems unsure.
“If you don’t let us move through quickly, I’ll be late to my lunch with the Countess of Rothes. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“No, miss.” He fumbles for his key and slips it in the lock. “Just be quick.”
The moment the gate shuts behind us, Mollie and I grin at each other. She grabs my arm and leads me away from the boy before he can change his mind. As we turn the corner, the hallway bursts with life. People speak Italian and something I’m pretty sure is Swedish. The clothes and complexions vary greatly.
Mollie knocks on one of the cabin doors.
A woman in her early twenties wearing a white blouse and a floor-length black skirt opens the door. She squeals and grabs Mollie in a hug. “Mollie! What’er ya doin’ here in the middle a the day? Ya haven’t been made redundant, have ya?” Her Irish accent is strong, stronger than Mollie’s, and I love it.
“No, Nora,” she says, looking a little embarrassed. “Miss Samantha wanted to see steerage.”
Nora turns to me and smiles. “A course ya did. There’re three types a people in this world: those that create division, those that enforce it, and those that tell the first two ta kiss their bloomin’ arse.” She winks at me.
I laugh. It’
s hard not to like her.
“Nora!” Mollie attempts shock.
“Smile.” Nora puts her arm around Mollie’s shoulder and whistles. “A little language never hurt ya.” Her grin is mischievous. “And as me pa always said…why worry over small problems when the worst is yet ta come.”
“Mollie!” says a young woman coming out of a nearby room and walking arm in arm with a young man. Mollie hugs her.
“Kate and John Bourke. Newlyweds, they are,” Nora says to me.
I nod. I can tell just by the way they look at each other. “Are you traveling with them?”
“Them and twelve more. Fifteen lads and colleens all from County Mayo. The noise they make when they get ta singin’ after dinner is a thing a beauty.” Nora grins at me.
Three kids come running down the hall, weaving in and out of the adult passengers. A girl about ten years old stops abruptly in front of me. Her mouth hangs open.
“How can you be real?” the girl asks. Her hair is braided and she’s wearing a pink dress. There is something so familiar about her.
“I know you, don’t I? We met in a…Where did we meet?” The sparkling happiness that filled the air a moment ago wavers.
The girl continues to look at me with wide eyes. “In my dreams, you…you…” And then she faints.
Nora rushes to her and lifts her head off the ground. “Ada?”
Ada. “Is she okay?” I ask, leaning over Ada, too. There is something about not being able to place her that makes me anxious.
Nora pats Ada’s cheek, and a voice yells my name from down the hall.
I turn around to find Alexander rushing toward me.
“What are you possibly thinking coming down to steerage?” His eyes are accusatory. “You do not belong here.”
“I…well…”
He shifts his focus to Mollie. “Was this your doing?”
She looks terrified. “I’m terribly sorry, sir.”
I step between them. “No, it wasn’t her doing. It was mine.” I put my chin in the air. “If you must know, I tore my favorite lace dress. And as you probably don’t know, lace is incredibly hard to repair and very few people can do it well. I wanted to wear it to dinner tonight, and Mollie said she knew a woman down here who might be able to fix it. I insisted on coming down myself, even though Mollie begged me not to.” I give him a hard stare, daring him to challenge me and my desperate need for the right wardrobe.
Haunting the Deep Page 13
