I stood from the table, linking Belinda's hand with her brother Lloyd's, as they'd sat on opposite sides of me. “Who's there?” I fretted nervously, shuffling toward the basement door and feeling the moment's creepiness, even though I'd planned the entire macabre thing. When I turned the handle and opened the door, Bartleby and Constance, dressed as Madam Zenya, stood at the top.
“But you're supposed to be dead!” Several voices shrieked, but I hadn't recognized the tone of the original speaker in all the commotion. Was our culprit beginning to break?
I raised a candle and escorted them to the table, certain I could almost smell the aggravated tension in the surrounding air. “Our final guests have arrived. Introduce yourselves, please.”
Father Elijah shouted, “Enough of this devil's nonse
