Page 31 of The Unknown

“Well, you’re a quick study,” Violet says, pleased. “I’m going to need to keep my eye on you.”

“I learned from the best.”

She raises her martini in a toast, and we clink glasses, the sound drowned out by a sudden knock on the door. On the other side, Ronan calls my name. “Marin? You in there?”

Violet’s eyes go wide as she becomes yet another person. The good girl caught doing something bad. “Hide the gin!” she whispers.

She tips back her martini glass and drains it. I do the same, even though I’ve had too much already. As the last drops slide down my throat, Violet grabs my glass and flies to the thermos on the counter, her limbs flailing like a Muppet’s. She drops everything into a drawer before giving the all-clear.

I stride to the door, my legs unsteady. My swaying sets Violet into a giggle fit, which she covers her mouth to hide. She nods, and I open the door, catching Ronan mid-knock.

“Hey, I—” he says, stopping when he sees Violet. “What are you doing here?”

Violet transforms again at will, morphing into Professional Violet. Sober Violet. It’s astounding to witness. She makes it look so easy. Like flipping a switch.

“Bonding with Marin, of course,” she says. “Were you looking for her or me?”

“Both of you, actually. I’ve already corralled the others.”

During my evening of diaries and dinner and a movie star plying me with gin, I’d forgotten that Brad told me what Ronan has planned. But now, as the martini buzzes through my brain, as loud as the insects outside, I remember.

It’s time for us to attempt a séance.

June 9, 1926

What a long, strange, and, frankly, terrifying evening. Now that it’s over, the events of tonight have led me to think my initial trepidation upon arriving in New Avalon was more than justified. I still plan on staying here for the foreseeable future—and honestly have no other place to go—but if tonight is any indication, I’ll need to be more vigilant going forward.

I suppose I should start with what happened immediately after dinner. I spent a few post-meal minutes conversing with Jonquil and Mrs. Minafer beneath the giant oak. When I returned to my cottage, I found Mrs. Semple inside. Even worse, she had this very journal and my suitcase open on the bed and was sorting through both.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

My presence clearly startled her, but Mrs. Semple recovered quickly and said, “I’m so sorry. I should have told you. I seem to have lost a pewter hairbrush and came here to look for it.”

“I didn’t steal anything!” I said, worried that she thought me a thief.

“I never thought you did. I merely assumed you’d borrowed it.”

“Well, it’s not here,” I said.

In all honesty, the only reason Mrs. Semple’s presence bothered me isbecause it further confirmed what I’ve suspected ever since arriving here. She is indeed watching me.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again, shutting both the journal and the suitcase. “I have an idea! Let’s go to the house and have a session.”

I knew what she was talking about. She was suggesting a séance. My first on New Avalon. I’d been wondering when she would allow us to try to test our Gifts.

“It’s time, don’t you think?” she said. “Let’s finally talk to those spirits you’ve been hearing.”

We left my cottage under a starless sky, the rumble of thunder in the distance signaling an approaching storm. As we walked, Katrina stepped onto the porch of her cottage, clearly jealous that Mrs. Semple had picked me for the first séance. That would have pleased me if I hadn’t been so nervous. I had never tried to contact the dead before—and the idea of doing so filled me with trepidation. I realized it would be a comfort to have the others there as well. So when I saw Mrs. Minafer and Jonquil also watching us pass, I asked, “Can the others join us?”

Mrs. Semple looked around, uncertain, before saying, “Yes. I think that’s a splendid idea.”

The first drops of rain started to fall as we all went to the main house, where Mrs. Semple led us to the parlor. It was dark inside, lit only by candles placed on the sideboard. There was a table in the center of the room, on top of which were wooden tiles marked with letters of the alphabet, arranged clockwise fromAtoZ. Interspersed among them, at the three and nine o’clock positions, were two tiles on which a single word had been written.

YESon one piece.

NOon the other.

We took our seats, and Mrs. Semple placed a drinking glass upside down in the center of the table. “Let us begin,” she said.