my own making.
Screw it, I thought and turned to him, mouth open. But Rebecca’s voice interrupted me.
“Holy crap, hallelujah,” she sang out from the front seat. “Ursulines Avenue. We made it.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Jeremiah agreed, and then pulled the car to a stop outside a redbrick building. “Troops,” he commanded, “prepare to disembark.”
“Gladly,” Jillian groaned as her father killed the engine.
I heard the clicking of seat belts and then the snap of someone’s door handle. Immediately, the overhead lights flooded the SUV. In the darkness, I hadn’t seen Jillian sit up again. Now, for just a moment, her gaze caught mine as we both blinked against the sudden brightness. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I saw something strange there, in the depths of her eyes. Curiosity? Anticipation? She looked away too quickly for me to decide.
“Ready?”
Joshua’s whisper in my ear made me jump.
“Y-yeah,” I stammered. “Sorry.”
“For what?” He laughed and then leaned around me to push part of Jillian’s seat forward so that we could get out of the back row.
Without so much as a glance at me, Jillian scrambled over the inclined seat and out of the open passenger side door. Joshua touched the inside of my elbow softly, indicating that we should follow her. I looked down at the place where his hand rested—where my skin had already started to tingle and burn. Then I sighed, so low Joshua probably couldn’t hear me, and pushed myself up.
After I’d climbed out of the SUV, I walked over to the uneven sidewalk and waited for Joshua to climb out too. While I waited, my eyes strayed upward, to the buildings that surrounded the narrow street on which we’d parked. Each separate structure—whether made of brick or colorful clapboard—flowed seamlessly into the next; each of their wrought-iron balconies almost but not quite connecting, hanging heavy with flowering plants and ferns. Beneath the balconies, most of the windows looked dark and unlit behind tall, wooden shutters. Something about the houses gave off a well-cared-for but unoccupied air.
The town house in front of us, however, had its shutters thrown open, and warm yellow light poured from its windows onto the street. Behind the curtains I could see figures moving. On both sides of the front door, someone had lit the gas, outdoor lanterns. Their flames flickered wildly, casting shadows onto the sidewalk and into the corners where this town house met its neighbors.
Before I had time to survey the rest of the house, the front door flew open and an enormous crowd of people came rushing out to greet us. Leading the charge was a pretty brunette woman who could have been Ruth’s middle-aged doppelgänger. Behind her, what seemed like fifty other relatives gathered, all smiling and all talking at once.
“Whoa,” I muttered. Joshua came up behind me, bag in hand, and subtly placed a few fingers on the small of my back.
“Meet the Mayhews,” he said through the side of his mouth. “All nine hundred and seventy-five of them.”
“No kidding. Did your entire family tree decide to visit for Christmas?”
“Basically.” He shot me a sheepish, sideways look. “Which, um … kind of means we’re sleeping in the attic.”
“Fine by me.” I shrugged, and fought the urge to add, I can’t sleep anyway. Obviously, that just wasn’t true.
As I continued to stare at all the new faces around me, Jillian walked up to my side and hissed, “Hey, Casper—forget your bag, or do you just like wearing the same thing every day?”
I raised one eyebrow. “I thought I didn’t exist in your world?”
“Obviously I’m not that lucky,” she whispered, and then sauntered away toward a group of what had to be more aunts and uncles.
With a tired sigh, I turned to Joshua. “Please tell me no one else in your family can see me. I don’t think I could stand any more compliments tonight.”
He gave me an apologetic smile. “Not according to Ruth. When she told me about all this Seer business, she also said we were the only ones who’ve had our triggering events. Oh, and now Jillian. So you’re in the clear.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
A few feet away I saw Jeremiah hug the pretty brunette woman. While returning the hug, the woman leaned around Jeremiah’s shoulder and waved directly at us. Well, at Joshua anyway.
“That’s my aunt, Patricia Comeaux—Trish,” Joshua said from the corner of his mouth, waving back at her. “I don’t see Annabel or Celeste anywhere … guess they’re inside.”
Joshua had given me a brief lesson in Mayhew family history during the first hour of our car ride. But I could only keep a few crucial details straight.
Ruth Mayhew—formerly, Ruth Angeline—had grown up in New Orleans. She’d also met and married her late husband here. They had one son and two daughters before moving to Oklahoma, ostensibly for her husband’s business (although Joshua and I knew the real reason: so that Ruth could lead her own group of Seers). Once grown, only Jeremiah chose to stay in Oklahoma; both of his sisters had returned to Louisiana, settling down to raise families in or near the French Quarter, where many of their relatives still lived.
Watching the Angeline and Mayhew descendants flock together on the sidewalk tonight, the only names I could remember were those in Ruth’s direct line: Aunt Patricia and her daughters, twenty-year-old Annabel and ten-year-old Celeste; Aunt Penelope and her nineteen-year-old son, Drew. Who I couldn’t pick out of this crowd if someone paid me to anyway.
But there was one conspicuous absence on the curb tonight: Ruth. Not that I was complaining.
“Josh,” Trish called across the crowd. “Most of the kids are in the drawing room. Why don’t you go say hey before you put your stuff up? I think Annabel’s got something planned for you all.”
“What is it this time?” he asked. “Movie night? Ritual sacrifice?”
Trish chuckled, letting go of Jeremiah to extend another hug to Rebecca. “She’s saving that last one for Christmas morning, actually.”
When Joshua laughed loudly, she gave him one final smile before turning away to talk to his parents. Joshua waited until everyone’s attention was otherwise occupied and then looked fully at me. He tilted his head toward the open front door and mouthed, Inside?
I felt a sudden twang of nerves. But I nodded and held out my arm, pointing to the town house.
“Lead the way.”
With a last, fiery brush of his fingers against the back of my hand, he walked past me toward the front door. I took a deep breath, told myself that not every Mayhew house held a nasty surprise for me, and then followed him.
Normal, I reminded myself. These are your last moments to feel normal. So take advantage.
But as I passed by the gas lamps at the entrance of the town house, their flames sputtered, plunging the nearby sidewalk into darkness. From behind me a chorus of voices cried out in protest. After that I could swear
