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Chapter no 4 – NECROMANCY BUSINESS

Phantasma (Wicked Games, #1)

ONE NIGHT UNTIL PHANTASMA

There was an incessant pounding on the front door.

Ophelia pried her eyes open at the noise. She reluctantly peeled herself out of her bed, fumbling around her room to pull on something decent before heading downstairs to see what all the racket was about.

Genevieve was poking her own head out of her doorway, eyes filled with rage at the untimely disturbance. By the puffiness beneath her sisterโ€™s eyes, Ophelia concluded that neither of them had gotten much sleep the night before. Ophelia had lain awake well into the witching hoursโ€”the time between midnight and four in the morning when the veil between the mortal world and the Other Side was the thinnestโ€”after returning from their hasty carriage ride, unable to stop thinking about her future, her magic, the strangeness of her locket pulsing around her throatโ€ฆ

Now, Ophelia rubbed at her eyes as she yanked open the front door, blinking rapidly against the morning sunlight that flooded through the entryway. When the spots finally cleared from her vision, she found two men standing on the manorโ€™s front porch, neither of whom she recognized, looking as if theyโ€™d rather be anywhere besides Grimm Manor at this early hour. Incidentally, she also wished they were anywhere besides her front porch.

โ€œOphelia Grimm?โ€ the first man questioned.

He was an older, stocky gentleman with a thick, salt-and-pepper mustache that was ever so slightly crooked.ย His colleague was quite a bit younger, and leaner, his hair and beard a bright red color that contrasted greatly with his dull, gray, three-piece suit. Both of them were eyeing the unruly red roses that drooped from the porch beams as if they were knives and not flowers. Ophelia assumed it was odd for them to see roses growing in such a manner and place, but the roses were her motherโ€™s favorite way of keeping unwanted Apparitions out of the house and summoned Apparitionsย within. They had bushes and bushes of them bordering Grimm Manorโ€™s exterior, crawling up the latticework on the houseโ€™s faรงade, as well as lining the front fence and gates.

Souls that are dead cannot cross roses of red,ย her mother had always chanted.

โ€œCan I help you?โ€ Ophelia asked, not unkindly, but in a way that indicated this wasnโ€™t necessarily a convenient time. Genevieve came to stand behind her, glaring at the men over Opheliaโ€™s shoulder.

โ€œWho in the unholy fuck is knocking on peoplesโ€™ doors this early in the morning? Our mother is no longer here to take appointments. If you have a dead relative, youโ€™re just going to have to suffer like the rest of us!โ€ Genevieve huffed, and Ophelia had to press her lips together to keep from laughing. The men werenโ€™t as amused.

โ€œExcuse the unscheduled house call. My name is Mr. Mouton, and this is Mr. Lafitte,โ€ the mustached man said. โ€œWeโ€™re from New Orleans City Bank. May we come in?โ€

โ€œWhat for?โ€ Genevieve snapped.

โ€œThere is some business with your, ah, mother. We were notified she recentlyโ€ฆย passed. Our condolences.โ€

Genevieve narrowed her eyes. โ€œBusiness?โ€

โ€œNecromancy business, you mean?โ€ Ophelia clarified.

โ€œNo.โ€ Mr. Mouton shook his head. โ€œItโ€™s about the financial state ofย Grimm Manor.โ€

โ€œWhat are you talking about? The manor has been in our family for almost a century.โ€

โ€œUnfortunately, your mother seems to have taken out some loans andโ โ€”โ€

โ€œIf you want to go back to sleep, Ophie, I can deal with this,โ€ Genevieve offered as she shouldered her way in front of her sister. โ€œNo need for both of us to have a migraine this morning.โ€

Genevieveโ€™s words were nonchalant enough, but something about the tension in her sisterโ€™s shoulders made Ophelia narrow her eyes.

Before she could decline Genevieveโ€™s offer, however, the red-haired man blurted, โ€œThis place isnโ€™t haunted, is it?โ€

โ€œOh, for heavenโ€™s sake, Mr. Lafitte,โ€ Mr. Mouton admonished before turning back to the girls. โ€œI apologize, he isnโ€™t from here. Heโ€™s unaware of the certain kinds ofโ€ฆย beingsโ€ฆย we have here in our little community.โ€

โ€œI thought you were joking about the Necromancy thing,โ€ Mr. Lafitte retorted, appalled.

โ€œAs I was saying,โ€ Mr. Mouton went on. โ€œYour motherโ€™s debts. There are a few documents we need you to come in and sign and a few other things we should discuss. Would you be willing to come into town with us?โ€

โ€œIโ€™ll go,โ€ Genevieve offered once again.

โ€œDo you have any identification, Mr. Mouton?โ€ Ophelia chimed before Genevieve could take a step over the threshold. โ€œHow should we know you arenโ€™t trying to kidnap us?โ€

The man scoffed at that as he shoved a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a card. It had the official seal of New Orleans City Bank embossed in the linen paper, his name written below.

โ€œSee, Ophie? Itโ€™s fine,โ€ Genevieve pointed out. โ€œGoย back to bed. Iโ€™llโ โ€”โ€

โ€œUnfortunately,โ€ Mr. Mouton interrupted, โ€œsince you both are equal shareholders in this estate, Iโ€™ll need you both to come down with me.โ€

Genevieveโ€™s jaw clenched a bit, but she nodded. โ€œGive us a minute to lock up, then.โ€

โ€œAs if anyone would break in here,โ€ Mr. Lafitte muttered at the same time that Mr. Mouton stated, โ€œThereโ€™s a car out front of the gates. Weโ€™ll wait.โ€

Ophelia retreated back inside to grab the key off the entryway table. A sinking feeling roiled in her stomach over what the man had said and Genevieveโ€™s odd behavior. There shouldnโ€™t have been anything wrong with Grimm Manorโ€™s finances. Their inheritance should have been enough to buy three estates if they wanted.

Ophelia took a deep breath and tapped the key in her hand three times before sliding it into the pocket of her black pinstriped skirts. She picked up the black velvet ribbon that she had left on the entryway table as well, slipping it into her soft curls and tying a bow at the top of her head, before scooping a few of the coins that had been sitting beside it into another pocketโ€”just in case.

Once the house was locked up, the two of them started up the long driveway, toward the motorcar stalled past the gates. The noisy automobile was emitting a foul odor of smoke, and Ophelia made a face as she pulled her gloves from her pocket and slipped them over her hands. Mr. Lafitte stepped out of the passenger side, watching them approach with a skeptical expression as he pulled a metal lever behind the seat and folded it forward, gesturing for the two girls to climb into the back. Before they could squeeze themselves in, however, the rolling clacks of a horse and carriage sounded in the distance, making all of them turn as the vehicleย approached.

โ€œWhat now?โ€ Ophelia muttered.

A woman, middle-aged, with dull brown hair, leaned out the carriage window. โ€œHelloโ€ฆย I have an appointment. At eight oโ€™clockโ€”with Tessie Grimm. This is her residence, correct?โ€

Genevieve looked the woman square in the eye. โ€œSheโ€™s dead.โ€

Ophelia made a disapproving noise as her sister turned back to the hand Mr. Lafitte was reluctantly offering and climbed into the motorcar.

Ophelia turned back to the woman. โ€œI apologize, but all appointments are canceled. We just havenโ€™t gotten around to calling everyone yet.โ€

The woman was gaping in shock, a hand fluttering to her chest with pity. โ€œIโ€™m so sorry to hear that, I had just spoken to her the other dayโ โ€”โ€

โ€œSo did we,โ€ Genevieve shouted from the car.

โ€œYouโ€™ll have to excuse my sister.โ€ Ophelia pinched her nose before waving the woman off and turning to stuff herself in the back seat next to Genevieve. When they were both fully situated, Mr. Lafitte lifted his seat back up and ducked inside, slamming the door shut.

โ€œMust you be so brazen with people?โ€ Ophelia whispered.

Genevieve rolled her eyes and sank back into the cushioned seat.

โ€œThe seats are comfortable, arenโ€™t they?โ€ Mr. Mouton asked rhetorically as he shifted the stick between him and Mr. Lafitte forward. โ€œItโ€™s the latest model.โ€

Neither girl bothered with an answer as they neatly folded their hands in their laps and looked out their respective windows, watching as Grimm Manor faded from view behind them. The men carried on a conversation about cars for the next ten minutes, possibly the dullest conversation Ophelia had ever heard in her life, before they both becameย suddenly quiet.

โ€œItโ€™s true, then.โ€ Mr. Moutonโ€™s voice was low as the two men gaped out the driverโ€™s side window.

Mr. Lafitte shuddered. โ€œIย toldย you. I heard it justโ€ฆย appeared.โ€

Ophelia slid across the back seat of the car, pressing herself against Genevieveโ€™s warm side so she could peer outside. The locket around her throat immediately began to pulse, but all she could see out of the small window was a crowd of people. Genevieve looked back at her and shrugged.

โ€œI always thought people were mad to believe those rumors,โ€ Mr. Mouton said. โ€œThe fools who enter those gates deserve everything they get.โ€

Ophelia rested her head against the window, the glass sticky from the morning humidity, and tuned out their voices. She was so tired. And, worse, she was worried. She couldnโ€™t imagine what might be so wrong with her motherโ€™s finances that the bank would send someone to their house. Her mother had always implied their estate had long been paid off, their only expenses upkeep on the grounds and what it cost for them to live day to day. That didnโ€™t mean money hadnโ€™t been tight at times, of course. They still relied heavily on their motherโ€™s business and the regular income the people of New Orleans brought to their front door.

For a moment, she wondered if there was some sort of inheritance tax they needed to pay. If theyโ€™d have to begin hocking their valuables in order to transfer the estate into their names. Aside from a few pieces of jewelry and some of the antiques her mother collected, Ophelia couldnโ€™t think of anything inside Grimm Manor worth selling. The most valuable thing she owned was hanging around her neck.

As if it knew where her thoughts had turned, the locket began to pulse again. The golden bauble had been in her family for generations, enchanted with a powerful magic that boundย it to its wearer. Her mother had always claimed it guided her through her toughest times and that one day it would guide Ophelia.

Ophelia looked down at the necklace, rubbing her thumb over the embossed, damask pattern of its outer shell, the crimson jewel nestled into the center on the front. She flipped it over and read the familiar words etched into the back:ย Follow your heart.

She almost snorted.ย A clichรฉd sentiment that was much easier said than done. Sliding a fingernail into the locketโ€™s clasp, she tried to pop it open. It wouldnโ€™t budge. Her mother hadnโ€™t been lying all those times Ophelia had asked to see what was inside.

โ€œYouโ€™re fidgeting,โ€ Genevieve murmured next to her, picking absentmindedly at her perfectly manicured nails.

Ophelia glanced at her sister. โ€œIโ€™m nervous. Arenโ€™t you?โ€

Genevieve dropped her hands back in her lap and turned to look out her window, hiding her expression from Ophelia. โ€œEverything will be fine.โ€

Ophelia narrowed her eyes. โ€œIs there something you know?โ€

Before Genevieve could answer, the car lurched to the right, sending Ophelia sliding into Genevieveโ€™s side.

โ€œHere we are,โ€ Mr. Mouton announced. โ€œNew Orleans City Bank.โ€

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