I reached out and gave her hand a squeeze, then made my way upstairs. I could hear voices—Emmet’s voice, my aunts’ voices—coming from the far side of the door of a rarely used bath at the far end of the hall. I stepped into the doorway, focusing on the floor where the deep claw-foot tub dug into the checkerboard tile. The room would normally have been far too cramped for a crowd of six, but the boundaries had been stretched.
I wondered which of us had become so skilled at borrowing space from other dimensions, until Emmet stretched out his arm to display the expansion. “Not bad, huh?” His pride glowed in his eyes; a wry smile reigned on his lips.
“Not bad at all,” I said and stepped over the threshold.
“Three minutes.” Rivkah’s voice caused me to look up. Emmet began disrobing, laying his clothes out carefully over a defunct towel warmer. I seemed to be the only one of us bothered by the waxing state of his nakedness. He noticed my consternation, and the devil’s own smile curved on his lips.
“Three minutes.” Ellen nodded. “Then I’ll pull him back.” I was glad to see she had recovered from the effects of her latest bender.
“Not a second longer.”
“You have my word, Rivkah,” Ellen said, placing a stopwatch in Rivkah’s hand. “From the second his heart stops until it beats again.”
Emmet caught my eye, then fanned out his large hands to cover his genitals. I begged my eyes not to follow, but they did as they wanted, caressing the patch of hair that began between his hard pectorals and traced a line over the center of his abdominals, fanning out again on his taut lower stomach.
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“You are shameless,” Iris said taking note of his flirting.
“Yes, I am. Isn’t that the point of this exercise?” Maybe it was gallows humor, but for the second time in a matter of minutes, I found myself in the middle of an inappropriate laugh. My eyes bounced up and were caught in the dark glimmer of his. Then I looked away.
“We should get started,” Iris said. “Climb in, please.” Emmet turned his back to me, casting one last naughty glance over his shoulder. His suave expression turned to shock as his foot hit the water. “I’m sorry it’s so cold, but it’s going to have to get even a bit colder yet.”
Emmet reached down, grasping both sides of the tub, and put his foot in. A second, and he lifted the other over the rim, touching the water with his toe then pulling it back.
“Mercy,” Iris called, and my head jerked in her direction. “Who is this timid little girl getting in the bathtub?”
Emmet’s face flashed a blend of shame and anger, but then his eyes narrowed. “You almost had me there,” he said, but still he seemed determined to demonstrate his toughness. He bent his knees and slid waist deep into the water. Even though his face remained stoic, he nearly panted from the cold. Finally he settled, his knees poking up high above the water. “It isn’t so bad.”
“Good, then we are ready for the rest of the ice.” Iris turned and opened up the old camping cooler I hadn’t laid eyes on since grade school. Oliver heaved a sack out of the cooler and tore open the bag. The cubes fell first in plops then with one final glacial splash.
Ellen and Iris glanced at each other. “Not quite deep enough,” Iris said. “He’ll have to kick his legs up over the sides so we can hold him under.”
“Why do we have to make the water so cold?” I asked, feeling a sympathetic chill run up my own spine.
“Just a precaution,” Oliver said as he grabbed another plastic bag. “Lowering his temperature may help prevent . . .” He stopped himself and threw a guilty look at Rivkah. “It makes any permanent damage from a lack of oxygen to the brain somewhat less likely.” He dropped the bag back into the cooler without daring to meet any of our eyes.
Iris unhooked the necklace she had been wearing, a gold chain and pendant. She approached the tub and leaned over Emmet. “Here.” She held the necklace out. “This was Mama’s, it still carries her charge. Focus on her energy, and it will help you locate her in the darkness.”
Emmet held up his bluing hand, palm up, and she dropped it into his hand. He clasped his long fingers tightly around the piece. Iris nodded at Oliver, who circled around her to take a place behind Emmet. They each put both hands on one of his broad shoulders. Ellen approached and took his left wrist in her hand. “Before we do this,” Emmet said suddenly, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering. “It’s only that I’ve heard ghosts are often seen wearing what they wore last. If that’s true . . . If I don’t make it back . . .”
“Yes?” Ellen asked.
“Please remember that this water was very, very cold.” He barked out a laugh and plunged his upper body under the water, a wave breaking over the rim as he flung his long legs over the sides. Oliver and Iris combined their weight to help hold him under, lest his body rebel and struggle to break the surface. It was unnecessary. He didn’t struggle. He gave himself up a willing sacrifice.
SIXTEEN
I approached the tub, moving slowly over the slick, wet tiles, just in time to see the bubbles from Emmet’s last breath break the surface. His body shuddered once, twice, and went limp. “He’s gone. Start the watch,” Ellen said, but I could already hear the watch’s ticking. Rivkah had no intention of this adventure lasting one millisecond longer than the time agreed upon. The floating shards of ice had gathered above his face, obscuring his features. I sensed, more than saw, that his eyes had remained open, staring out at us from the other side of the void he had crossed. I leaned closer to the water and scattered the ice. I stepped back and flung the frigid droplets from my fingers.
Iris and Oliver reached in and tugged at his slippery frame. I wondered why they insisted on doing things manually. I wiggled my finger, and his head broke the surface. His torso, cold, purplish tinged, followed, and his legs slid easily back into the tub. The body, Emmet, was now in a sitting position.
“You got a little over two minutes, then we pull him back.” Rivkah held the watch so tightly, her knuckles had turned white. Ellen nodded.
A rap on the doorframe caused us all to turn. Sam stood there, leaning against the wall. He folded his arms across his chest. “Sam, honey,” Iris said, pulling the sleeves of her top down over damp arms and moving toward the door. “I’m so glad to see you, but you shouldn’t be in here right now. I need you to go downstairs and wait.” She reached for him in an attempt to usher him out, but he stepped aside.
“What fun would that be?” It was Sam’s body, Sam’s voice, but it was not Sam. I seemed to be the only one to notice the dark aura surrounding him.
“Get away from him.” I was too late; he grabbed Iris by the arm and twisted it violently enough to pop it out of the socket.