Maggie was going to be sick. It was an absolute certainty, and frankly, she would welcome it because her stomach was feeling awful.
She tried to look around the room to settle her, but this did much the opposite. It was strange how, despite its constant presence in her mind, the image of this hallway had still managed to fade and alter over the twenty-three years. Being here again, she was noticing all the little details that her mind had failed to keep, and with each one, she felt her stomach turning as the reality of the situation set in.
So, she kept her eyes on her nephew as he recounted the events so far. She took in as much as she was able, but there was a lot, and many of the details were hard to swallow. It was clear that, whilst Ben was trying to give an accurate summation of what had happened, he found himself reconsidering certain moments and trying to downplay them for Maggie's benefit.
For instance, he talked about how he had nearly been bitten by a serpent in the bathroom despite the fact that he had a bloodied bandage round his leg. He began telling her about Sara wrestling with a giant wolf before trailing off and concluding that Jamie had saved her. What exactly Jamie was still doing here or why he looked like he did was a continuing mystery to Maggie because Ben seemed unwilling to be clear on those points. He was helping them now, and that was all she knew.
"Then Maligna showed me all this stuff," Ben told her, "and the darkness got super bad and stuff but then there was this voice, I don't know who it was, but they told me I had this power and I remembered back in the bedroom when... I told you what happened in the bedroom, right?"
Maggie nodded. Ben seemed to struggle most with that part of the story, but his lack of words had said a lot.
"Well, anyway, I think I can turn invisible," Said Ben, "Or maybe just stop people noticing me. Actually, I suppose that's really just the same thing. Anyway, I did that, and Maligna got really mad, and the darkness was like chasing me, but I escaped, and then I found you and... well, I guess you know what happened from there. So that's it, I guess. Do you have any questions or... anything?"
Maggie just shook her head and looked at her nephew's young face. She could almost forget that he was only eleven. His cheeks had thinned slightly over the long hours he had spent in the house, and his bright, silvery eyes seemed wide and fierce even as he smiled at her.
"Ay, you poor thing," She said as she touched his cheek, "I'm so sorry you had to go through all this."
Ben blinked a little as his lip quivered.
"It's okay, Tia," Said Ben, "We're doing okay. We just... Need to keep going. That's how we've managed so far."
It upset Maggie to think that Ben needed to lie to her. That somehow their roles had been flipped, and he was her guardian rather than the other way round. She had come here to save them, she remembered, and now she was on the floor being reassured that everything would be okay by an eleven-year-old boy.
"I think we should get going," Said Ben, "Sara should have found Jamie by now, and I'm sure they're waiting by the clock."
Maggie wanted nothing more than to stay where she was. It didn't matter that nothing would be accomplished because, as terrified as she was now, she was far more scared of what may be coming next.
But Ben had been right. She had to move forward. It was the only way she could keep her promise to him and Sara. With Ben's help, she got back to her feet and, keeping a tight grip on his hand, followed him up towards the clock.
Maggie's stomach gave another lurch as she caught sight of Jamie again. Jamie? Could that really be him?
As vague as Ben had been on what Jamie had done for Maligna, Maggie knew what happened here. Kids went into this house, and they never came out again. Jamie had not been the last, and there had been no mention of anyone else like him in the Manor. Something had kept him safe here, and it was not difficult to think what.
There was something perverse about seeing Jamie again after having spent so much time mourning Him. Maggie had never doubted for a moment that he was dead, but here he was as if back from the grave. Maybe she should feel some sense of relief, but honestly, looking at what he had become, she almost thought death would have been better.
Jamie was currently at the top of the stairs where they had seen Maligna all those years ago. Sara was next to him and seemed to be holding onto one of his freakishly long arms to prevent him from running away again. It did seem like the kids liked him, and they might have a good reason, too, if what Ben said about him was true, but still, Maggie couldn't help but feel uneasy around him.
"Right," said Sara, "Can I turn the key, or are we still playing catch up."
Ben gave something of an imploring look to Sara before giving Maggie an uneasy smile. Without a word, Sara turned and placed the key in one of the remaining keyholes and began to wind it.
Maggie really wasn't ready for this. Here, two experiences of the Manor's "challenges" had been awful enough in their own right, and the stories that Ben had told did little to ease her mind. She might have said something had it not been clear that Sara was not going to take her opinion into consideration.
It was probably for the best. Maggie didn't think she would ever be ready, and if beating these challenges was the only way to get out of this Manor, then it might be best if she got a little push.
With a surprising lack of fanfare, Sara finished winding the clock, and Maggie jumped as seven chimes echoed throughout the manor. Once they had finished, there was a creaking noise as one of the doors on the bottom floor opened up.
Sara entered the room first, followed by Ben, with Maggie still holding onto his hand tightly. Jamie had slunk off to the back of the group and was keeping a fair distance from them. If his skulking was an attempt to make her feel more comfortable, it was failing.
The room was a surprisingly intimate dining room that stretched ahead of them to another set of double doors that presumably entered into a kitchen. The table in the centre of the room was long, but Maggie couldn't see it housing more than ten people comfortably. Currently, it was set for four with two chairs at either side and a plate with a small spoon placed before each. Along the walls, there were portraits of what was presumably the Maligna Family line, depicting various dark-haired individuals with a limited variation of the same sharp features.
Maggie's chest tightened for a moment when her eyes fell on the portrait of the 'current' lord Maligna. He was sitting in a large red armchair dressed in a fine dark purple evening robe. Standing behind him was a pale woman with a shock of white hair streaking through raven black. She was dressed in an elegant dark velvet dress patterned once more with the familiar raven design that was seen throughout the house. At Maligna's feet was a young boy in black trousers and shirt adorned with a frilled collar. All three looked out of the painting, and Maggie felt certain they were looking directly at her. Maggie had never forgotten the green fire of Maligna's eyes, so it was remarkable that this portrait had not captured them. Instead, though they still had their edge, the eyes were a relatively plain dark hazel that seemed to rob them of much of their unhallowed life.
A card sat on the end of the table nearest the entrance, which Sara took up and examined.
"Most welcomed guests," she read, "The time has come for dinner and entertainment. Please take your seats and let the fun begin."
She shared a glance with Ben.
"I'll take the first seat," said Jamie, "You know, just in case."
It was the first time Maggie had heard his voice, and his horrible rasp sent a shiver down her spine. It must have been visible because she saw Jamie flinch just as he had always done when he was embarrassed. To see such a familiar movement from such an alien frame made the whole thing even more terrifying.
Jamie made his way towards one of the seats closest to the double doors. With his good arm, he cautiously slid the chair out from the table and examined the upholstery for any sort of threat. Though never seemingly convinced of its safety, Jamie eventually had to give in and take a seat.
Once he had, Sara quickly took the seat next to him, and Ben began leading Maggie towards the two remaining seats.
Ben thankfully took the seat in front of Jamie, leaving Maggie to take the chair across from Sara. Maggie glanced over at her niece, who gave her an angry look before turning away.
This slight actually annoyed Maggie so much that she was able to forget some of her fears to feel it.
There wasn't much time to think about it, though. As soon as they all sat down, loud music began to blast through the room. At first, it just seemed to be nothing but noise, but as her ears adjusted, Maggie began to recognise it as some kind of circus music. The double doors burst open, and out came one of the strangest things Maggie had ever seen.
At first, Maggie thought it was some kind of monster, and in a way, she wasn't wrong, but as it stopped before the head of the table, Maggie realised that it was not a living thing at all but some kind of strange mechanical figure. It reminded Maggie of something, too.
Maggie had a terrible time adapting to the new climate when they first arrived in England, and her Papa had thought a visit to the seaside would cheer her up.
It didn't. That day had been miserable with torrential rain from the moment they had set foot out of the car. Antonio Sanchez was no quitter, though, and had decided to make the most of the trip by taking her to a local museum. Apparently, one of the many eccentricities of English culture that her papa found so fascinating was its seasides, and Maggie had been assured that she would love it too.
It was a small museum which mostly featured old railway adverts and grainy photos of Victorians fully dressed on a grey beach. It was not until they reached the section about old attractions that Maggie found anything of interest. There, she was presented with something called a laughing sailor. It was the torso of a sailor with a strange ventriloquist doll-like face. Maggie must have looked interested in it because her Papa had pushed the button connected to the exhibit to show it off.
The sailor suddenly started vibrating violently in its box whilst a crackly recording of a laugh blared through the tinny speaker. Its face was frozen in a toothy grin that was too wide, and its glossy eyes had leered at Maggie as it rocked back and forth. She had started to cry and didn't stop no matter how much her Papa tried to calm her down. In the end, the only solution was an ice cream and the journey home.
Maggie hadn't thought of the laughing sailor for years, but here it was, or at least something like it, wheeling out on some kind of motorised tray.
It was almost identical to the Laughing Sailor except that it was dressed in chef whites rather than the traditional sailor garb. Where its torso stopped, there was a circular tray that stretched around like a life preserver. On top of the tray were five meals that were all covered by large metal spheres. For each meal, the automaton seemed to have an arm, and they all looped around the torso, spinning freely from the rest of the body. Beneath the food tray was a motorised trolley that left bare the many mechanisms that powered the automaton, including what appeared to be a strange gramophone-like device.
That seemed to be the source of the music, which was scratchy and full of strange stops and starts. The levels in the sound were all over the place, and it was all centred on the automaton.
Everyone was startled when the automaton burst into the room, and after a few moments, no one was quite sure what to make of it. Was this thing Actually alive, or was it just playing out a set of pre-programmed movements?
The answer did not come when the voice began playing on the gramophone.
"Step right up, step right up and test your luck." It rang out.
The voice was just as badly scratched as the music that accompanied it, giving off a strange timber. The worst part, though, was the way its face moved. For lack of a better description, the face was lip-syncing with the voice from the recorder. This might have been more successful if the motors that controlled the rubbery mouth were better equipped. It was worse than the lips just flapping up and down in time with the words; instead, the mouth attempted to imitate the syllables being spoken despite being nowhere near quick enough to keep up. Adding to that was the unreliability of whatever mechanism was controlling the mouth, which caused parts of the lips to suddenly jerk out at strange angles. Worse of all, though, were the eyes. The eyes seemed to be on some kind of rotation and had a habit of swinging about wildly around the room. Occasionally, they would land on someone and linger for an agonisingly long time before shooting off again.
The whole uncanny experience only further added doubt to the question of whether or not this automaton had any life of its own.
"The game is simple," continued the scratchy voice, "Find the lady and win your prize."
One of the five hands jerkily flexed into one of the automaton's pockets and brought out a vial of green liquid.
"The Lady of South America," The voice cried out, "A concoction brewed from one of the most poisonous floors in the world. Can kill a man in thirty seconds".
The eyes suddenly alighted on Jamie.
"You seem a man who knows the dangers of a Latin woman," The voice said before its eyes spun on Maggie, "Am I wrong?"
The sudden pointedness of the comment jarred everyone, but the voice of the automaton didn't miss a beat.
The hand placed the vial down by the tray in front of the torso, and then all five of the hands, in something resembling unison, lifted all the covers to reveal a small bowl of soup beneath each one.
"Tomato Soup," said the Voice, "Yum Yum, my favourite."
The table surrounding the torso suddenly jittered, and the small vial fell into the soup in front of the torso, spilling its contents into the food. The Face of the automaton stretched in a mockery of surprise.
"Oh no," said the voice, "This soup is poisoned."
With that, all five of the arms brought the covers down over the trays. The one arm bringing the cover down onto the poisoned tray was particularly jerky and slammed into the table at an odd angle before being righted. Maggie noticed that the sudden impact had left a noticeable dent on the tray cover.
"Oh well," said the Voice, "Five meals and four diners. No need for anyone to eat the poisoned soup. Just keep your eye on the prize."
The five arms let go of the tray covers and placed their hands under the trays. They rose in the air and began to shuffle them.
Considering how jerky the motion of the arms had been previously, they were currently moving with a fluidity and a complexity that Maggie would never have expected. At first, the trays moved relatively slowly, and it was easy to keep your eye on the poisoned tray, especially with the dent, but the pace kept picking up until, finally, it was impossible for Maggie to keep track of their motion.
Eventually, the trays slowed to a halt and were lowered back onto the table.
"You, young man," said the voice as the eyes swivelled over to Ben, "Take your pick."
Ben stiffened for a moment and looked around at the others.
"I think it was the one on the ..." Sara began.
There was a loud horn blast, much sharper than any of the other sounds that the automaton had made, that quickly interrupted Sara and sent Maggie to cover her ears.
The eyebrows of the automaton's face suddenly arched in a disturbingly real display of anger as its eyes rolled over to Sara.
"No conferring, I'm afraid," said the voice, "You must make your choice on your own."
Sara's eyes flared for a second, but she held her tongue.
Ben took a deep breath and made his way to the Automaton and his table. Ben moved in a circle, examining the trays and the food inside.
Maggie clutched tight onto the arms of her chair as she watched the small boy get so dangerously close to the Automaton. In her mind, the image of its arms striking at him repeated on a loop. How could she let him do this? She should be doing something, but how? The automaton wasn't going to let anyone interfere, and even if it was, Maggie didn't have any idea what she would do. At Least there was the dent in the tray. Ben was smart, if he saw it he would almost certainly work it out.
Ben took a few passes of the trays as he made examinations, more than likely just to please himself since Maggie could see nothing new; he could be learning, and finally took one of the undented trays back to his seat.
Once he had sat down, the voice of the Automation rang out again.
"Go ahead, my boy," It said, "Give it a try. Tell me what you think."
Ben Shakily pulled the cover off the tray and looked at the soup beneath. He took the spoon that was to his side and, with a quick glance at everyone else, placed it into the soup and then into his mouth. Ben hesitated for a moment and then swallowed.
Then came the wait. Thirty seconds, the Automaton had said, but Maggie didn't even try to count. Would the poison act straight away if it existed? What would it do? Would he seem fine until the very second it would kill him? When was it safe?
Maggie felt so utterly powerless in that moment. She was this boy's guardian now, and all she could do was sit while he took his life in his hands. She couldn't lose Ben. Losing Ricki had nearly destroyed her; she couldn't lose her nephew in the same year. Not here. Not in this Manor. She could not lose anyone else to this god-forsaken place.
After what felt like an eternity, there was a small chime, like the sound of a microwave finishing its cooking, and a small fanfare played.
"Well done," said the Automaton, "You didn't die."
There was a palpable sense of relief in the room. It was not long enjoyed, though.
The Automaton's arms once again took up the four trays and sent them flying around. With the dent still visible, Maggie did a fairly good job at tracking them, though she still lost it once or twice. When the shuffle had stopped, and the trays were set in their places, the Automaton spoke once again.
"You, good sir," Said the Automation as its eyes fell on Jamie, "step right up and take a chance."
Jamie didn't look for any guidance as he got out of his seat. Try as she might, Maggie had been unable to ignore Jamie's strange appearance, and looking at him now as he got up to get his tray, it was impossible not to take in all the horrid details. The strange way he seemed to scuttle as he moved, the spindly body that made Maggie think too much of a spider, and the pale white skin stretched across his skeleton. Maggie felt a twinge of guilt as she saw his hobbling movement caused by his unusable arm. His injury from protecting Sara. For all her horror, she had to feel grateful. No matter what else he had done, he had protected her niece and nephew, which at this moment meant more to her than anything else possibly could.
As he approached the trays, it seemed that Jamie was taking a more fatalistic approach than Ben had. There was none of the analysis or weighing up that he had done. Instead, Jamie seemed to find the tray with the dent in it and made sure to avoid it.
Maggie sighed with relief. It seemed the others were well aware of the dent and should be capable of finding the right meals. This challenge might turn out to be quite easy.
"Go ahead," said the Automaton once Jamie sat down with his tray, "Let's see what you think."
Jamie barely hesitated as he opened the tray and took a spoonful of soup. The cavalier attitude actually made Maggie a little uncomfortable. Maybe he was confident about his choice, but if not... Well, Maggie had already known too many men with death wishes.
Jamie ate the soup, and the wait began again. As much as he scared her, Maggie couldn't help but worry for Jamie. The image of her teenage boyfriend and this strange creature were still taking their time to collate if they ever would, but looking at him now, she knew who he was. Whatever had gotten him to this point didn't change the fact that she wanted him out of here, even if she had no desire to see him again afterwards. After all, it had been her fault.
She had left him in this terrible place, and whilst the lost years would never come back now that she had a chance, she would make sure she set things right.
Judging the wait was even harder with Jamie than it had been with Ben because, with his pale palette and jerky movements, it was difficult to tell if he was suffering from the effects of poison or if that was just the way he was.
It was confirmed as the latter when the small ping went off, followed by the fanfare.
"Congratulations, big guy," said the Automaton, "Long live the comeback king."
The trays once again began their spin, and Maggie tried to follow their path. If it weren't for the dent, there would have been no way that Maggie would have kept up with the trays. She lost track more than three times during the shuffle, and it was only by using it as a visual marker that she was able to find her place again.
Eventually, the shuffle ended, and the trays were placed back in their spots.
"Well, how about a go for the pretty lady," said the Automaton, "step right up and don't be shy."
A cold shiver trickled down Maggie's spine. She knew this was coming, but still, making the jump from passive observer to participant was more difficult than she had imagined. She glanced around at the others. Jamie avoided her gaze but gave what might have been an encouraging smile. Ben was definitely trying for reassurance, but his nervousness came through quite clearly.
Sara just gave her an annoyed look and shot her eyes towards the trays as if asking her to hurry up.
She would have to talk to the young lady about her attitude. Maggie almost laughed. She had only been in charge of the kids for less than two days, and despite that and being trapped in a haunted house, she had still somehow managed to turn into her mother.
The realisation lightened her mood to the point she could rise from her seat, but it didn't help much with the walk. With every step, Maggie was sure she couldn't go on. There were times when she was trying to step forward, but the signal wasn't quite going through. It was a serious concentration of will to make her body walk even the small distance to the automaton.
Had the others had this trouble? She didn't think so. They seemed to do this much faster. Maybe it just felt like that now she was an actor rather than an observer. Maybe they had just gotten better at it over the time they had spent here.
Whatever the case, Maggie was feeling embarrassed and terrified. The Automaton didn't help matters. It wasn't doing anything, but that didn't put Maggie at ease. She was certain that at any second, it could flash and go for her. Strike out and grab her or something worse. Eventually, however, she found she had no more steps to take and was at the table.
Almost immediately, she spied the tray with the visible dent and found some comfort from it. As long as they had all seen that, none of them could have picked the wrong tray. Why someone like Maligna had entrusted a game requiring so much finesse to this clunky old thing, Maggie would never know.
Or would she? Her experience of the Manor may not have been quite as extensive as the others, but she had come to understand the dynamic. It had been there in the foot race to the door when the furniture had moved to separate and block them, and when he had caught her again, he had placed her into a living darkness that gave him total control. Maligna was a gambler, wasn't he? He would know the power of house advantage.
There was a spark within Maggie's mind as two things clicked together. She had worked in fraud analysis now for close to two decades, oh god was it really that long, and whilst it was not a passion of Her's it was impossible not do something for that long without changing your perspective. Maggie had a fair working knowledge of Con men, and whilst her work dealt more often with corporations than street hustlers, the shell game was a famous and well-taught example of basic fraud. The added element of death had clouded Maggie's perception, but as she stood before the trays, the parallel was so obvious it was embarrassing.
A layman thinks that cons only work on gullible idiots who become blinded by greed at the sight of an outlandish deal. The truth, however, is that most con artists want you to know you're being conned and to think that you can outsmart them.
You think you're winning at checkers when, in fact, you're losing at chess.
Maggie picked one of the two trays without the dent and then made her way back to her seat. Unlike the others, she didn't make her way back directly to her seat but instead continued moving past the automaton to the other side of the table. Maggie was shaking visibly, and there was an audible rattling as the tray trembled in her hand. As she passed by Sara's chair, she stumbled and had to place the tray on the table to avoid spilling it. She made sure to pass close to Sara's ear and whispered.
"Take the dented tray. The other is poisoned."
She didn't wait for any reply from Sara as she wobbled, getting up, almost spilling the tray in the process. She didn't even look back at Sara as she made her way around the table and back to her seat.
"There you are, lady," said the Automaton, "Time to see if you're happy with your choice."
Maggie pulled off the lid of the tray and looked at the food. Thick tomato soup. It actually looked somewhat appetising. Maggie did something like a look to see any signs of poison, but she wouldn't have known what to look for even if she found them.
She took the spoon with a trembling hand and filled it with soup. Getting it to her mouth proved difficult. Her theories were all well and good, but sat here now with the chance of death swirling in her spoon, it was difficult to feel that confidence again. But confidence meant little in the end. She could delay it, but she couldn't prevent it. Her move was made, and the consequences would have to be felt. Maggie opened her mouth and jammed the spoon in as quickly as she could. The soup cascaded down her throat with such ferocity that she nearly choked. That would be an embarrassing way to go. The others had survived literal monsters, but Maggie may have been felled by a lack of dining etiquette.
This wait was even more agonising than the last, not just because it was the wait to see if she personally died, but because she was now relying on her own body to keep her informed. Maggie was suddenly aware of every facet of her body. She could feel the liquids stirring in her stomach, the individual hairs on her arms and legs and dryness in her mouth. All these sensations felt wrong and sickly, and with prior knowledge, it was impossible to know what might be a symptom of poison or just good old anxiety.
Even when the ping and fanfare did finally suggest her victory, Maggie was unconvinced. It would take quite a while for her body to settle to a point where she didn't fear she was going to die.
"Good Choice, Pretty Lady," said the Automation, "Or maybe you're just immune, who knows."
The two remaining trays were picked up, and the shuffle began again. Maggie snapped out of her ill feelings and renewed her eagle-eyed analysis of their pattern. It was no less difficult for there being only two. The Automaton was now juggling and shuffling so fast that there were many times where they were nothing but a blur. Maggie didn't let it distract her. She had something now. Something specific she needed to watch for.
There it was! Or was it that one? The trays were moving so fast that even what should be such an obvious move was nearly impossible to see. When the trays finally made their way back down to the table, Maggie could only be half confident that she had been right in her assertion.
"Last but by no means least, little madam," said the Automaton, "Time to step right up and test your luck."
Sara looked over to Maggie. The expression definitely had shades of her former anger, but there was a confused plea in them that did as much to soften Maggie's perception as it did to make her nervous. She had felt far more confident when she had told her about the dent, but now that it was really down to the wire, doubt was allowed to run rampant in her mind.
Still, even with all the doubts that were plaguing her mind, Maggie couldn't convince herself that she was mistaken. She gave a quick raise of her eyebrows to subtly confirm what she had previously said.
Sara didn't seem any more convinced, but her change in expression at least confirmed to Maggie that she had understood. She got up from her chair and made her way towards the Automaton. With only two trays left, Sara had little to analyse, even if she were so inclined. The dented tray stuck out even more now that it was only one of two, and Maggie could imagine the temptation to avoid it. After a few moments of weighing up options, Sara took the dented one.
Maggie could feel the sudden tension that came over Ben and Jamie. Had it not been for a quick swivelling of the Automaton's eyes as a warning against interference, Maggie was sure that one of them would have tried to prevent Sara from taking the tray.
Maggie certainly wasn't relieved, not yet, in fact she may have become more anxious than she had been in the entire game. It was not so much the doubt that worried her. She felt confident enough in her assessment that no other explanation felt truly possible. No, the real problem was the knowledge of the consequences of being wrong. Before, she had just felt powerless, which had been an agony all its own, but now that she had actually exerted influence. If Sara died, then it would be entirely her fault. Maggie's heart was in her throat as Sara sat down.
"Three out of four so far," said the Automaton, "Time to see if luck holds up."
Sara took off the tray cover and looked at the soup before her. She looked over toward Maggie, and she did her best to project confidence. It was not her best skill, and Sara's subsequent expression was a testament to its failure.
Still, the choice had been made, and there was no turning back. It was beginning to impress Maggie greatly how Sara was able to push forward with seemingly little regard for fear. With one fluid motion, Sara took a spoonful of the soup and placed it into her mouth.
Maggie's eyes never left her niece's as they waited for the verdict. Sara had a fixed, determined expression, which gave little indication of any inner turmoil. Maggie felt once again her own sickness rising as she waited, hoping beyond hope that she hadn't just killed her niece.
Then came the ping. And another. And another and another and....
The Automaton began flailing wildly as all its mechanisms seemed to be going off at once. A triumphant fanfare was playing, but the gramophone seemed to have deteriorated even further, causing it to shift constantly in volume, tempo, and pitch. Over it the Automation's voice could be heard crying,
"Winner! Winner! Winner!"
Maggie had to quickly pull Ben back towards her as the arms of the automaton nearly bludgeoned him in their mad swings. The eyes whirled around, and the mouth had lost all semblance of lip-syncing and was contorting itself into a series of hellish expressions. Then, the fire began. A bright green flame that seemed to begin behind the eyes and then spread, melting the rubbery face and burning the costume chief whites. Soon enough, the whole thing lit up in a horrid green flame. Now, everyone abandoned their seats and came together at the other end of the table to watch the blaze.
For a second, it was like a bonfire burning in at the end of the kitchen before the flames began to die down, and after a few more seconds, there was nothing left but the burned skeleton of what had been the Automaton. Within that twisted hulk of blacked metal Maggie was able to notice something. On top, where the head had been, was a small glittering silver key.
Sara and Jamie were the first to start making their way towards the ruin of the Automaton, with Ben and Maggie following closely after. Sara took the key from atop the wreckage and held it up for the others.
"Sara," said Ben, "How did you know?"
Sara blushed a little.
"I actually didn't," she said, "It was Aunt Maggie that told me."
All eyes turned to her, and Maggie felt a sudden shyness come over her.
"Well," she said, "It was really nothing. It's just that I know about the Shell game, working in fraud prevention, and I know that it's a con. What they do is mark one of the shells so the person thinks they have a way to cheat. I realised that was what was happening with the dent in the tray. It showed us which one was poisoned until the last rotation, where the robot switched it."
Everyone looked suitably impressed, which gave Maggie as much joy as it made her feel even more awkward.
"Anyway," she said, "I guess we should go back to the clock. If that's what we do, I haven't really done this before."
"Wait, aren't we going to finish the soup?" asked Sara.
"You want to eat the soup?" croaked Jamie.
"I'm hungry," said Sara, "I haven't eaten since Breakfast."
"What do you mean?" asked Maggie, "I gave you lunch."
"Yeah, it was gross," Said Sara, "I threw it away."
Maggie breathed in sharply. She would let that go; for now, it was enough to know that everyone was safe.
The four of them sat and ate the rest of the soups in silence, less because of any awkwardness and more because they were all mostly focused on eating. Maggie herself had not noticed how hungry she had become and found a comfort in being able to satiate herself even in a place like this.
She couldn't help but notice Jamie's attempts to eat his soup. He seemed to be having trouble, partially because of his long arms but mostly because he seemed to be trying to eat in a particularly dignified manner. The strange image of the monstrous form attempting such a delicate action couldn't help but make Maggie giggle a little.
Jamie noticed this, and for a second, Maggie was afraid that she had hurt his feelings until she realised that he was laughing along with her.
The soups didn't last long, and sooner than any might have liked, the group were back up and heading into the hallway.
Ben stayed back to give Maggie his hand as they left the room. She took it, but she found herself walking along with her nephew rather than being led. Fear had not left her, but she had found a calm that she had never expected. All this time, she had hidden away in fear of what might happen if she left the house, and now not only had she done that, but her worst-case scenario had happened as a result. But she had won. It was a single victory, but it had been more than she had ever expected.
She couldn't hide anymore, but maybe she didn't need to. There was still much ahead to fear, but she would face it, and maybe, just maybe, she would win.