“Rarely,” she said. “He’s not particularly pleasant. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Ben replied, but it felt like a lie. There was more to his question, he just wouldn’t say. “In any case, I am strongly opposed to him ever stepping foot inside this house again. If he so much as crosses that threshold, I will not hesitate to deal with it in the swiftest—perhaps harshest—manner.”

“I can only assume that his meeting with you was disagreeable.”

“In a manner of speaking.” He glared down his nose at her, more serious than ever. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I just don’t like him.”

“I don’t believe anyone does,” Remi agreed. “Especially Elise.”

“Yes, well.” He turned on his heel and tucked his hands behind his back. “I’ll be turning in for the night. You should do the same.”

Remi nodded and watched him go, an odd ache settling in her breast. For a moment, she felt her composure crack—like a hairline fracture on a porcelain mask. It was difficult to see him go, even if he was a galling ass earlier. For a moment, she imagined reaching for the cuff of his sleeve and pulling him back, if only to delay the inevitable loneliness that would follow his departure.

Tomorrow, there would be no one at their door. Edgar’s body would be carried to the family’s mausoleum by a black, horse-drawn carriage while Remi, Ben, and the staff would follow to say their final goodbyes.

Edgar would be well and truly gone.

As Remi hesitated in the doorway to the parlor, she could feel eyes watching her.

It’s just your nerves, she thought.

“Hello, Edgar,” Remi said aloud to the empty room.

The house creaked and groaned in reply. Outside, the storm picked up again. The wind blew against the house, sneaking in through cracks around the window panes. The island’s rainy season was just beginning and would last for more than a few months. Rain would be a never-ending backdrop to their mourning.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you sooner.” She approached his casket reluctantly. His was the first funeral she ever attended, and while they kept him true to life, his likeness was strangely altered. She didn’t like the way her skin felt cold, how suddenly the memory of their wedding and vows came to the forefront of her mind.

Until death parts us...

Remi gasped as the words came with an audible ringing in her head. Death pressed itself against her, breathing its low, cold chill down her neck. She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezed, using the edge of his casket to support herself. Panic set in as the ringing in her ears grew louder.

“Remi…”

Her eyes fluttered open. A cry formed in the back of her throat, but no sound escaped her. Two white eyes stared back at her. Edgar’s hand shot out from the casket and clamped tightly around her wrist. His mouth widened, his jaw releasing a sickening crack as it opened; a loud, strangled moan that sounded like her name emitted from his throat. A spray of moths flew out of his open mouth, assaulting Remi’s face.

She cried out and pushed away from the casket, nearly toppling over one of the side tables in her haste. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and rubbed them raw. When she looked again, the moths were gone and Edgar’s face was peaceful.

Remi backed slowly out of the parlor, watching Edgar’s casket with every shaky step. She tiptoed around the doors and closed them, hurrying up the stairs. She told herself it was impossible for a corpse to move on its own. It was late, and her mind was playing tricks on her.

Don’t look back, her body screamed, sending goose pimples along her arms as a warning.

She did not look back.

Once in her room, Remi sucked in a deep, ragged breath. She dragged her shivering body to the bed, sinking into it without removing her heeled boots or gown. Instead, she curled into herself until she could hear nothing but the sound of her breathing. When she closed her eyes, the moths were there, fluttering their large wings over Edgar’s open mouth—crawling from inside him until they took flight.

A sob escaped her.

It wasn’t real…

Remi shifted, and something poked her cheek.

She lifted her head and found a crushed envelope with her name written neatly on its front. Picking it up, she turned it in her hand, finding it unsealed. She lit the candle on her bedside table and pulled out a small sheet of torn paper. Her eyes widened at its message:

I’ve been watching you…and I want you, but I can’t have you. Why can’t I have you? You don’t know how my heart longs for you, how it loves you. Would you love me, if you knew? If only you knew…

Remi read it thrice, each time more afraid than the last. Someone entered her room without her knowing. She looked around, suddenly afraid of the drapes and the dresser and the corners that stared back at her from the darkness. No shadow moved; there was no noise except the wind and rain outside.

Remi sank into the window seat, tucking her knees under her chin. Sleep would not take her now, try as she might. Her eyes trained on the window, she forced herself to count the raindrops sliding down the glass. A flash of lightning illuminated them, making their wet trails sparkle against the darkness. But the light from the flash drew Remi’s attention away from the raindrops. There was something below her, a shadow passing in the night. It moved like a person, its shoulders rolled forward, lumbering through the downpour.

She wondered, horrified if it was her mysterious suitor. Lightning struck again and unveiled the figure.

Remi pressed her face to the window, her eyes wide. “Ben?”

RESTLESS

BEN

The knocking at Ben’s door seemed to go on endlessly. At first, he ignored it. But it only grew louder, incessant, and violent enough to rouse him from the deepest of dreams. His eyes were bleary as the room came slowly into focus; it was dark, and the fire in his bedroom burned down to glowing embers.

On the other side of the room, his door shook violently against the banging.

“Who is it?” Ben called back. Sleep was still present in his cracked voice. “Jacques? If that’s you, I’m going to break your arm.”

The noise stopped suddenly. A silent moment passed and Ben drew in a deep breath; the air was cold like ice. He shivered.

“Ben...let me in…” a voice moaned.

He threw the blankets from his legs, irritated by the dramatics. Grasping the handles of the double doors, he threw them wide open. There was no one in the hallway. Confused, he closed the doors.

That was odd.

The moment his hands released the cool brass handles, there was another dry, loud moan on the other side. “Help me...help...me…”

“By hell!” Ben jumped back as the doors again shook with the same banging that had woke him. Fear wound its way into his bones as he pushed them open again, stumbling out into the hall and colliding with a small table. As he righted himself, the voice came again.

“Ben...please, please help me…”

His eyes adjusted to the dark. “Sylvie?”

Light steps echoed in the hall. A white hem as translucent as a newly spun cobweb dragged across the wood floor as if floating. His eyes followed the train, fixating on a female figure that was not Sylvie or Remi. She was a blank, faceless apparition, shimmering in and out like the smoke from a cigar. He brought a shaking hand to his chest, the hairs on his arm standing on end.

The fear in the air was palpable. It held onto Ben with an iron-hard grip, but he forced himself to speak. “Who are you?”

The figure did not answer; instead, she turned and sailed away. She made no noise as she went, and the entire house seemed to silence itself, too. It felt as though the house held its breath as she passed. Ben followed her, despite the rising panic urging him to turn around.

A door on the other end of the hall creaked open, and the apparition disappeared inside. He walked as quietly as he could, stopping at the door as the sound of soft sobbing reached his ears. He peeked inside, jolted by the sight of his sister sitting at her vanity.

“Soleil?”