The Face in the House

18

The morning of the seance, Teddy awoke with a familiar feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. She'd felt it, in varying degrees, throughout her life: the first day of kindergarten, the day she discovered blood in her cotton underwear, the day her mom left, the day her dad died. In a way, her life was punctuated by the feeling; the heavy, knotted, sick feeling that something was about to change. That she was about to change.

She groaned and rolled over in the small, rickety old bed. All week, she'd been looking forward to this day, and now that it was here all she wanted to do was will it away, hide under the covers, pretend to be sick. Snickers hopped on the bed and nestled himself next to her.

"Meow," he said, and promptly scratched her on the shoulder. GET UP.

"Ow!" Teddy yelped, startled by the unexpected pain. She sat up.

Snickers looked at her innocently, smiling sweetly with his eyes.

"You little asshole," Teddy said, but she smiled and the knot in her stomach loosened a notch.

She supposed she should be happy to meet some new people. It had been weeks since she'd spoken to anyone who wasn't a dead butler or a dead cat, she realized, and the thought was too absurd to register. It dawned on her that it had also been weeks since she'd even left the house. She couldn't bring herself to feel ashamed of that either. The thought of leaving simply hadn't occurred to her. I have everything I need, she told herself. If I ever need more, I'll drive to town.

But the moment she thought it, the knot in her stomach clenched tighter. She had never been a homebody — in fact, growing up with her dad, she had spent as much time away from home as possible — but now the thought of leaving the house felt strange and unnatural.

And if I don't do this seance . . . she thought, feeling queasy. The threat of losing the house had been her edge over Poole, but now she was starting to feel the pressure herself. If she couldn't pay her property taxes, the county could foreclose the house. Maybe she didn't have a secret basement laboratory housing her life's work, but she had something to lose, too.

She shook her head and got out of bed. She'd slept late, and there was much to do to prepare for the evening.

Poole had had one last condition about the seance, and that was that guests access should be limited to the living room at the front of the house. He didn't want strangers wandering about, and frankly, Teddy didn't either. She'd found a deep purple velvet curtain packed away in the upstairs bedroom, and Poole had helped her secure it on the ceiling to close off the hallway. It looked a little odd with the lights on, but by candlelight it worked like a charm.

She had decorated the rest of the living room as best she could in the days prior. She found some ancient family portraits from a time before anyone knew to smile for the camera. She picked the creepiest ones to hang on the walls, the ones that seemed to follow you with their too-wide eyes. She placed candlesticks around the room, which would be their only source of light, perfect for casting odd, wavy shadows on the walls and the ceiling. The rest of the room was pretty much ready; the furniture, the curtains, and the carpet already had that dramatic, antique look she envisioned when she thought of haunted houses. The only thing left to do was move the table.

A large table was crucial to the success of the evening. It was where they'd all gather for the seance, of course, but it was also where the magic would happen. If all went according to plan, it would be their money maker.

Teddy eyed the outfit laid out on the other twin-sized bed beside her. She still chose to sleep in the same small bed she'd slept in during her first weekend visit all those years ago. The more she made herself at home there, she'd come into the habit of placing clothes, books and other belongings atop the unused bed.