“If you do leave, be sure to lock the front door behind you. Mrs. Borden has gone out on a sick call, and I might go out later as well.”

Lizzie turned her attention to ironing handkerchiefs. As she worked, I stood beside her, Kristof staying across the room, listening but staying out of the conversation. Lizzie knew he was there, but had yet to say a word to him or even glance his way.

We returned to the subject of the Nix, and I asked Lizzie whether she ever sensed her or saw images of her.

“I see her…what she’s done. Sometimes it stops for a while, but when it starts again—” Her hands quivered. “When it starts again, there are always more.”

More killings. The images stopped while the Nix was in the world of the living, then she returned bearing fresh nightmares for her dead partners.

I asked Lizzie what she’d seen recently, whether she had any idea where the Nix was or where she was headed.

“She seeks a teacher,” Lizzie said. “A man named Luther Ross.”

My head jerked up. “Luther Ross?”

“You know him?” Kris whispered.

I glanced over at him. “Heard of him. A poltergeist teacher.”

Kristof snorted. “Another charlatan.”

“No, Ross is actually…” I motioned that I’d explain later and turned back to Lizzie. “What does she want with this teacher?”

“I don’t know. I never know. I only see.”

Lizzie glanced over at Bridget, who was almost finished cleaning the dining room curtains.

“There’s a sale on at Sargent’s today,” Lizzie said. “Dress material at eight cents a yard.”

“Oh,” Bridget said, smiling. “Then I will indeed be going out. I’m done here. May I leave now?”

“Certainly.”

When Bridget was gone, Lizzie peeked into the living room, where her father had drifted off to sleep.

“Excuse me,” she murmured.

While she went to get the hatchet, Kristof and I decided we’d learned all we could from Lizzie Borden, and transported ourselves out before the gore started to fly…again.

Chapter 20

20

I LANDED IN A POOL OF WATER.

“Your aim, my dear, is excellent,” Kristof said.

He was submerged up to his armpits in muddy water. He looked over at me, the water barely reaching my knees. As he opened his mouth, something jumped from the water, splashing a sheet of brown ooze over his face and into his mouth. I bit my cheek to keep from laughing.

“Sorry,” I said as he spit the water out. “I told you I only have one travel code for Honduras.”