Chapter 4 #2
Crystal stepped through the door with the compass still in her palm, but she didn’t make it three steps before her bird let out a shrill, repetitive cry. Not the usual sass, not even the “I see something shiny” note. This was sharper, a sound that cut right down her spine.
Crystal froze. “Oh, hell.”
Somewhere down the east hall, a door slammed. Then another. A draft rose up the grand staircase, carrying with it the smell of something briny. The mansion had made up its mind. It wanted everyone in the same room.
Magda appeared first, hair half-braided, eyes wide. “What was that? I was in the bath—my water was turning solid. Not ice. More like Jello.”
“Charming,” Crystal muttered. “The house is calling us. Let’s meet in the library.”
Brianna came hustling in next, still chewing on a piece of bagel. “A gust of wind nearly knocked me over. I was mid-bite,” she announced, offended. “Mid. Bite. I nearly choked.”
“Wait, was that the last of the bagels Rayna brought?” Crystal asked. “Never mind, maybe the house was doing us a favor.”
“Ha-ha. There are eleven left.” Brianna deadpanned. Crumbs were clinging to her T-shirt. Rayna tromped in looking sweaty, as if she’d been in the hot yoga studio.
Sahara brought up the rear, arms full of notebooks, looking like she’d been dragged away from her life’s work. “Did anyone else’s candles blow out in unison? Because all thirteen of mine did.”
Before anyone could comment, the chandelier above them rattled. The house itself affirmed it had decided to call them together.
Crystal laid the compass on the long oak table.
Sahara leaned over it. “I’m guessing this has something to do with the mansion’s reaction.”
They all gathered around, muttering complaints, clearly unsettled. The bird hopped down to perch right beside the compass, wings twitching like it was daring the thing to move.
Crystal set her palms flat on the table. “It’s not kelp junk. It’s a sailor’s binding charm. And the fact that it’s sitting here, humming through the house like a tuning fork, means something’s either broken loose or looking for a way in.”
Joell arrived last, calm as ever, dressed like she’d been expecting a casual Friday council meeting. She glanced at each of them, then at the compass. “Well,” she said mildly, “I suppose I should thank whoever decided to bring cursed artifacts into our library before breakfast.”
“That would be me, by way of Mason,” Crystal said. “He found more crap on the beach this morning.
“Who?” Rayna asked.
“That’s right, you haven’t been here. The so-called plumber who repaired our pipes when they exploded the other day.”
“The pipes exploded?” Rayna’s eyes rounded.
Crystal waved her away, as if she were an annoying fly. “Too much has happened. Ask someone to catch you up after we figure this out.”
“Where is he, by the way?” Joell asked.
Crystal shrugged. “I think he went back to Raoul’s place.”
Mason raised his hands from the doorway. “Hi. I’m the so-called plumber and beach junk delivery guy. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
The water inside the compass shifted, restless, pressing against the glass as if it wanted out. The whole table vibrated beneath their hands.
The bird shrieked again. The lights flickered.
And just like that, everyone and everything stopped talking.
Joell’s gaze swept the room. “The house doesn’t summon us for amusements. Whatever this is, it isn’t waiting politely.”
Magda leaned forward, eyes bright despite herself. “So… Is this good news? Group project?”
“Bad news,” Crystal corrected. “Group funeral, if we don’t figure out what it wants.”
The bird gave a final, low whistle, as though seconding that opinion.
Mason had just closed the library doors behind him when they banged open again.
Victoria swept in, perfectly put together as always, though her stilettos clicked a little too sharply on the old hardwood floorboards.
Her raccoon familiar was draped across her shoulders like an unwilling stole, fur puffed out in alarm.
“Does anyone want to explain why the wards just tried to give me a magical nosebleed on the front steps?” she demanded, smoothing a hand down her designer blazer as though that would calm her heartbeat.
“Are you wearing the magical jewelry we overnighted to you?” Sahara asked.
“Uh, no. It took me all day and night to get here. Helicopters don’t store half a continent’s worth of fuel. That means I have to make several stops.”
Lioness came in right behind her. “I saw the lights flicker from the drive,” she said. “Either the mansion’s auditioning for a horror movie, or something’s wrong.”
All eyes swung back to the compass. Its black water pressed against the glass again, pulsing like a heartbeat.
“We don’t know what’s wrong, but something is,” Joell said simply. “Very wrong.”
The table vibrated again, the compass giving a low hum that resonated in their bones. The raccoon hissed and buried its face in Victoria’s hair.
“Okay, I hate it,” Brianna announced. “Votes to throw it back into the ocean?” She raised her hand.
“That’s not how binding charms work,” Crystal said. “You toss it back, and you’re just handing the key to whatever it was locking away.”
“Maybe the key’s safer underwater than on our library table.” Brianna folded her arms, jaw set.
Sahara leaned in, notebook already open, eyes gleaming like she’d been waiting her whole life for cursed brass. “Or maybe this is a chance to study one of the oldest sailors’ wards we’ve ever seen. If I can map the sigils, we might—”
“Lose our faces to a sea-wraith before lunch?” Crystal cut in.
Lioness cleared her throat. “Or we could stop bickering and put it in a containment circle before it decides to pulse harder and crack the solid mahogany table.”
“Seconded,” Victoria said quickly, dabbing under her nose like the wards still had her bleeding. “Preferably something with triple reinforcements and very, very far away from my new shoes.”
The compass throbbed again, harder this time. The bird shrieked, wings flaring wide. Books toppled from the nearest shelves with a crash.
Joell raised her voice over the chaos. “Enough. Circle first. Debate later.”
Magda was already fumbling through her bag. “I’ve got salt. And chalk. And, uh—half a bath bomb?”
“That’s not going to help,” Crystal said.
“Depends how stubborn the entity is,” Magda muttered, already starting to sketch a crude ring around the table’s top.
The air thickened, briny and metallic, as though the sea itself had been dragged into the library. Mason, still hovering by the doors, tightened his grip on the handle.
The compass pulsed again, and this time, faint whispering spilled into the room. The sound was unintelligible, but rising, layered, urgent.
Joell’s expression didn’t flicker. “Ladies,” she said, calm as if she were asking for cream in her tea, “I think our salty guest would like to speak.”