Perception (Apparition Investigations #1)

Case #1: Villanova Apartments: Part 16

"I hate this," Cyril mumbled, looking through the window, down to the street outside. He kept expecting Stella to arrive at any moment. For her car to pull into view. For her to storm up the stairs. He could see it so perfectly in his mind's eye.

But she still hadn't come.

"As you mentioned," Oliver called from over his shoulder. He moved throughout the new apartment, studying everything: the I Love Lucy memorabilia lining the walls, the bible study material left on the couch-side table, the array of travel mementos on the bookshelves. "But if I could go along with your decision to talk with Noah Walker, you can at least sit here for a few days."

"She shouldn't have taken the watch."

Oliver sighed. "She was upset, Cyril. You should have seen her last night. What Stella did went too far."

Cyril whipped around. "At least Stella acted from a place of compassion. She was trying to spare Bronte. Bronte taking us away without a word to Stella was malicious, if not downright cruel."

Oliver's hands clenched into fists at his side. "Compassion? For who, Cyril?"

"For us!"

"And what do you think Bronte's trying to do? You don't think taking us away from Bronte through purification is the exact same? Bronte brought us here because she was afraid Stella might try again—especially since Stella's now in a position where she could do it herself."

Cyril rolled his eyes. "Please. The name invocation? She couldn't purify us with that."

"Couldn't she? We don't know how any of this works, Cyril. For all we know she could..." he waved his hands around, searching for the word, "she could speak us into the next life. Bronte's trying to give us a chance, here. For us to decide."

Cyril turned back toward the window. "We aren't staying in this apartment."

"Not for long. Just long enough for Bronte and—"

Cyril waited for him to continue. When he didn't, he glanced over his shoulder, first at Oliver and then to where Oliver looked.

Bronte stood in the space that led to the kitchen, clutching a steaming mug with both hands. Her eyes watched them, moving back and forth between them.

Cyril forgot she could see them with the same clarity with which Stella heard them. He'd become accustomed to Stella eyes wandering, unable to land on them. Having Bronte's gaze pierce through him so completely left an  uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Her eyes finally landed on him. "You're angry." She sounded convinced, not at all questioning, uncertain.

Honesty seemed the best course. "Yes," he said, then recalling she couldn't hear him, he nodded.

Her eyes swung to Oliver. Then down to his hands still balled into fists at his side. "You too?"

Oliver nodded but pointed over at Cyril.

She let out a heavy sigh and brought her mug up to her lips. Instead of sipping, she took in a deep breath of the coffee's aroma. "I didn't mean to start a fight between the two of you."

Oliver moved closer to her but Cyril stayed put by the window. He turned somewhat to face Bronte, hoping to convey that he was upset rather than angry. But he still wanted to be able to glance out the window. Just in case.

Oliver hovered uselessly, trying to speak with his hands, gesturing. After a few moments of confusion, Bronte let out a weak laugh and finally took a sip of her coffee. "We should have brought the Ouija board."