Chapter 7 - The Laugh in the Rafters
The laughter bounced off the stone walls of the banquet hall and bled into the dark corridor, sending a violent shiver down Clara’s spine. It was a familiar sound—not because she had heard it before in person, but because it matched the haunting melody of a music box she had found hidden in Julian’s attic study weeks before the wedding.
"Julian, turn on the lights!" a guest shouted from the main ballroom, their voice laced with sudden unease as the party music ground to a grinding, screeching halt.
In the sudden chaos of shifting bodies and murmuring crowds, Julian grabbed Clara’s arm with terrifying force, hauling her backward into the shadows of the hallway just as the emergency backup generators kicked on with a heavy, industrial hum. Harsh, flickering fluorescent strips overhead replaced the warm amber chandeliers, casting a clinical, sterile white light over the scene.
Leo was gone. The silver carving knife lay abandoned on the carpeted floorboards, smeared with a dark, viscous substance that hadn't been there a second ago.
"Where is he?" Clara demanded, wrenching her arm out of Julian’s grip. She stared down at the knife, her stomach churning. "Julian, where did the boy go? Did you shoot him? Is that what your gun was for?"
"Shut up, Clara!" Julian hissed, scanning the empty hallway with wild, bloodshot eyes. He tucked the revolver back into his jacket, his hands trembling violently. "He went back into the ballroom. He’s fine. He’s just a kid."
"A kid who carries a bloody knife and speaks with a dead woman’s voice?" Clara’s voice cracked, tears of pure rage and terror finally spilling over her lashes. "You are going to tell me the truth right now, or I swear to God I will walk out those front doors, find a police officer, and tell them everything I’ve seen tonight."
Julian turned to face her, his expression hardening into a mask of pure desperation. He reached out, grabbing her by the shoulders, and pulled her close until she could feel the frantic beating of his heart.
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"If you go to the police, Clara, you go down with me," Julian whispered fiercely, his eyes boring into hers. "You signed the marriage certificate ten minutes ago. Under the law, your name is on the estate deeds now too. Whatever happened to Beatrice... you just inherited it."
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