As the five of them crossed from the storage room to the grand dining room, Anastasia clasped James’ arm and said, “I must say, dearest James, that you get more dashing by the moment.”

James smirked and thanked his two extra points of Appearance.

Then the smell of fresh-baked bread made his mouth water and his brain forget that nasty stench from the basement.

The five of them entered the dining room, the grandest room he had ever found himself in. He felt like he had just entered a Renaissance palace. The parquet floor was so intricately wrought, it broad circular pattern could have been a mosaic. The carved wainscoting on the walls and ceiling were plastered with gold leaf. The ceiling was painted with some sort of fresco featuring a sailor or sea captain standing on a rock overlooking the surf with his arms raised as if calling out to something in the water, and the sky was cosmic cauldron awash with nebulae and stars. The walls bore more frescoes, one of a steadfast sea captain at the prow of his great sailing ship with his crew behind him staring in wonderment at something behind the viewer, an effect that made James itch to look over his shoulder. Another depicted the sea captain kneeling before a crude stone altar with his cutlass upraised in supplication. Another showed a sea battle with two ships exchanging cannon broadsides, but atop one ship’s crow’s nest, a tiny figure held a glowing spark aloft, and the spark flickered with tongues of lightning. The frescoes were at once grandiose, lifelike, and quintessentially French.

In the center of the room stood a formal dining table of deep brown hardwood with nine place settings. Fine china. Crystal goblets. High-backed chairs. The silk napkins, however, looked a bit yellowed with age, and dusty cobwebs choked all the corners. The parquet floor was worn and cracked, desperately in need of polishing, as was the wood of the dining table and chairs

Gilbert sat at the head of the table, with Armand, Delphine, and another guy James guessed was the Renard whom Ivy had met, around him. Anastasia took a seat next to her brother. James went to stand behind the seat next to her.

Introductions were made all around. This Renard guy seemed to be friendliest of the bunch, or maybe just the least creepy. How this gene pool had managed to raise a vision of grace and beauty like Anastasia, James couldn’t quite fathom. He kept eyeing Delphine. Could she be the same Delphine who had published music so long ago?

Beyond the table, floor-to-ceiling picture windows looked out into a violent storm. Sheets of rain slashed against the glass, and streaks of lightning made the clouds look like the shadows of beasts lurking in the sky. The roar of raging surf filtered through the glass. James found himself rapt by the spectacle of nature’s power.

“Please,” Delphine said, in her creaky old-lady voice, “you may be seated.” She gestured around the table with her spindly fingers. Her skin was so papery thin, he could see the blue veins all the way up her arm until they disappeared under the lace shoulders of her dress.

They all sat, Elwood next to him, and Ivy and Ash together across the table.

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“These frescoes are extraordinary,” Elwood said to the Delacroix family. “They are by Jean-Baptiste Greuze, are they not?”

“You have an eye for art, my good man,” Gilbert said. “Our family commissioned them, brought the artist all the way from France, spared no expense. Did you know he painted a rather famous portrait of your Benjamin Franklin?”

Elwood raised an eyebrow. “Indeed?”

Two dull-eyed servant women trundled into the dining room, pushing carts heavy laden with silver tureens and covered platters. They distributed shallow porcelain bowls of a creamy soup that smelled like pure, savory heaven. James grabbed his soup spoon and dug in, discovering to his ravenous glee that the soup was exactly what it appeared to be—a cream of mushroom soup with tiny cubes of tender meat in it. He was three spoonfuls in before he noticed everyone staring at him.

“James!” Ivy hissed. “Manners!”

“Sorry.” He sheepishly put his spoon down.

Renard said, “You have different customs down south, I suppose, yes? In America?”

James nodded, but he couldn’t wait to dig back in.

Gilbert cleared his throat. “First, we must give thanks to the Powers for granting us this bounteous feast, in honor of our most esteemed guests.”

Geel-bear had sure changed his tune since earlier.

“Oh, Great Ones,” Gilbert intoned, “please honor us with your bounty, in the name of our father, as you have done for generations. May we continue to accept your grace with humility and obedience. We shall—”

A tortured howl echoed through the house, the likes of which James had never heard, a cry of helpless, hopeless rage and…hunger? It sent a chill from his shoulders to the top of his head, and his mouth went dry. He said, “That came from inside the house!”

Anastasia said, “Oh, that’s just great-great uncle Jean-Paul. He’s—”

“Hsst!” came from Delphine like spitting venom, and Gilbert joined her in giving Anastasia the fiercest of stares.

“You said, Jean-Paul?” Ash said. “You mean the sea captain who found the diamond? He’s here? Still alive?”

Renard said, “No, that would be impossible, of course. Ours is the grandson of that Jean-Paul.”

James pointed at Anastasia. “But she just said—”

Renard gave her an indulgent stare. “A regrettable slip of the tongue. Jean-Paul is…not well. If you’ll excuse me, I shall go and see to him.” He pushed back from the table and departed the dining room.

After he had gone, James asked Anastasia, “What’s wrong with him?”

But she just looked into her soup, as silent as if she’d just been slapped.

This made James angry and he glared around the table. “Now, listen here, you—”

“James!” Ivy hissed. “Manners!”

“Screw manners!” James said. “You got some sort of lunatic invalid up there? Why isn’t he in a hospital? Or an asylum, I guess you call it these days?”

Eyes flashing, Gilbert jumped up. “Because no asylum will have him!”

Anastasia stood. “Please, everyone, may we enjoy our repast? The cooks have made us quite a feast. They went into town and brought back a great deal of food so that we could honor you properly. I’m sure we are all famished.”

Armand’s mouth was a dour sneer. “And they were fortunate to make it back before the storm hit. There’s no making the crossing until it passes.”

“You mean we’re stuck on this island?” James said. Even though it was a horror movie cliche, it felt no less scary to be living it, especially with mysteries and dangers lurking in every shadow.

“Trying to make the crossing in this surf would not be advisable,” Gilbert said.

James asked the GM, “Hey, Sean, we can still get out of the game, right?”

The GM said, “Your party elected for Ultimate Mode. You may leave in the event of a medical emergency, or when you complete the next stage of the mission.”

The four players simultaneously said, “What?” Then varying versions of We’re stuck in here?

James, Ivy, and Elwood turned their gazes on Ash.