A Whispered Darkness
Author: Vanessa Barger
Date: 2014-08-26 16:30:39+00:00
Keywords: Horror; Young Adult; Paranormal; Fantasy
Description: When Claire Mallory's father leaves, her mom moves them to a new town and into a dilapidated Victorian house. The old house creaks and whistles, and smells . . . well, like it's been abandoned for years. But as the nights grow longer and the shadows take on substance, Claire wonders if the strange sounds and occurrences might be more than the house showing its age. Just as things start to pick up in Claire's love life, her mother becomes possessed. In an attempt to save her mother and their new home, Claire enlists the help of two boys, each of whom is interested in Claire for very different r
Publisher: Month 9 Books

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

Copyright © 2014 Vanessa Barger

A Whispered Darkness by Vanessa Barger

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Month9Books, LLC.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Published by Month9Books

Cover by Victoria Faye

Cover Copyright © 2014 Month9Books

For Randy –

Thank you for your patience, love, and support. Most of all, thank you for being my personal Haven, in all the ways that word implies.

For Mom and Dad –

Thank you for all the support and love you’ve given me in my life. When I was a little weird kid, you always encouraged me, and when I grew into a big weird kid, you never stopped. Love you.

For Roommate –

For late nights, phone calls, advice, venting, chocolate, and so much more. You’re awesome. Thank you for always being my “bestie.”

When a soul breaks, it isn’t pretty. The pieces are sharp; they cut and bite and rend at flesh. They seek blood, want vengeance. They congeal, become something more than they were, something dark and beautiful and terrible.

And they seek companionship in their darkness.

Chapter One

I didn’t want to be alone in the dark. Not here. Not yet.

The dark had never agreed with me. After The Incident, and all the shrinks and therapy, that much hadn’t changed.

Several boxes had been pushed into the large kitchen of the sprawling Victorian mansion we now called home. I rummaged through one with “dishes” scribbled across the side. Mom and my younger brother, Grant, were out getting the pizzas to christen our first night in a new house.

While I hoped this would be a new start, I didn’t hold my breath. Nothing had gone the way we’d hoped so far. Dad left with a blond bombshell. Mom went into therapy. They got a divorce. And here we were. Living in an aged mansion that made me feel like I needed a tetanus shot just to breathe the air inside.

There was optimistic and then there was delusional.

Pushing hair out of my eyes, I pulled a stack of bowls out. Nothing else was in the box. “Note to self: never let Grant label anything ever again.” I muttered.

Of course, it might have been part of his plan. My baby brother wasn’t stupid, despite being fifteen, and sometimes not completely possessed of a brain.

Thank God the fridge was new. I grabbed a bottle of water from inside. Based on the layer of dust and dirt on everything else, I didn’t want to imagine what the previous stove and fridge looked like.

Mom had been so eager to get into this new place she hadn’t allowed time for much cleaning beforehand. We had two days to move from the old house, two hours away, into the new one. I sipped the water. What weird hold did this place have over Mom? She’d barely been able to contain herself when she first viewed it. It was like she craved this place. Maybe it was the new start. Maybe it was a chance to get away. In either case, it was out of character for her.

I wasn’t sure this was the fresh start I wanted, but Mom lit up when she talked about renovating the old Victorian home. It made her act more like the person she used to be, before the news about the affair and the inevitable divorce.

A thud echoed through the house and I jumped. I took a deep breath and rounded the corner, glancing out the screen door to the driveway. No car.

Another thump echoed, followed by a shuffling noise.

My gaze moved to the ceiling as my heart skipped a beat. “Rats,” I whispered. “Has to be rats.”

I stood in the wide foyer, the stairs ominous and dark in the center of the house. They drew my attention, and the urge to walk upstairs and investigate warred with the desire to run.

I was seventeen years old. Time to act like it. It wasn’t even fully dark outside. I’d been home alone before. Sometimes for entire weekends.

Snap out of it, Claire. You’re making something out of nothing.

Goosebumps moved down my arms in another prickling wave, and I swore the temperature dropped. I took three steps toward the stairs.

Outside, I heard a motor and then Mom’s voice calling my name. Relief flooded my body as I turned away from the upstairs and headed for the door.

Mom was already heading for the trunk, and as soon as I got to the car, Grant thrust the pizza at me. I grabbed the box, my stomach rumbling at the smell. He reached into the passenger seat to pull out grocery bags with bottles of pop and extra things inside.

“Get inside you two. We’ll leave the rest of this for later. I’m sure you’re both starved.” Mom sighed, shooing us with her hands toward the door.

Grant didn’t acknowledge her. Tension stretched like a rubber band between them. The car ride hadn’t gone well.

Great.

Mom pushed things too hard with him. She wanted him to be okay, to realize out loud to her that Dad was a jerk. To tell her he was fine. But he wasn’t. He wouldn’t be for a long time. Mom might know it, but she didn’t want to admit it.

It didn’t bode well for the future.

I followed Mom up the steps. As we entered the foyer, I tapped her shoulder. “By the way, I think we’ve got rats. I heard something fall upstairs and scurrying.”

Mom frowned, her gaze shifting to the ceiling. “Let’s hope it’s just an old house settling. I don’t want to have to deal with rodents.”

“It didn’t sound like settling to me.”

“I’ll have someone come out and look around.” She patted my shoulder.

“You didn’t do that already?” Grant asked around a bite of pizza.

“There hasn’t been time. But you’ll be okay for a few days. How about setting up the TV? The cable is on, all we have to do is plug it in.”

Grant jumped on the chance, shoving a slice of pizza in his mouth at the same time. The television sat in the middle of the living room with a bunch of other furniture. Luckily, Mom had cleaned the living room when we arrived, before we moved things into it.

While he fiddled with cords, I passed Mom a plate, taking one for myself and loading it with pizza. After pouring a drink, I trudged into the living room and flopped down with my dinner.

Grant hopped up, having connected everything, and hunted through the box of electronics and cords next to the set. After a few moments of rummaging, he emerged, brandishing the remote over his head. “Ha ha! The scepter is mine!”

While the cable box found a signal and the television flipped through the channels, he dashed back to the kitchen, returning with the entire pizza box and sat on the floor with it balanced on his knees.

“You can use a plate, Grant,” Mom said.

He shrugged, flipping through the channel guide. “Why dirty the plate? I’m starving.”

Her mouth pulled into a frown, but she didn’t push the issue.

I rolled my shoulders. They needed to end their battle of wills soon, because I wasn’t sure I could handle months of it. Too much more and I’d lose my cool.

That’s what had started all this in the first place.

Chapter Two

Mom spread her sleeping bag on the couch while Grant and I took two air mattresses on the floor in the living room. Mom went into the bathroom armed with sponges and cleaners to tackle the mess before we showered.

While she was scrubbing, Grant turned on a movie and we sat back on the floor.

“Does this place give you the creeps?” I asked during a commercial.

“You mean like ‘ghosts’ or ‘death by decay?’”

“Ghosts. I know it’s scary by any other definition. The prospect of cleaning this place sends me into cold sweats as it is.”

He paused, his eyes never leaving the television. “I think it’s creepy. But it’s an old Victorian house. They’re made look creepy. Hopefully we’ll get used to it.”

“I hope so.”

Silence fell between us, until Grant scratched his neck and glanced over at me. “You don’t think what you heard was rats, do you?”

I shook my head.

“Great,” he muttered. “Let’s add freaky ghosts to the list of things we have to deal with.”

“Maybe it was rats. Maybe it was me. It could have been a lot of things.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I guess. But I know you, and I don’t believe it.”

“In all honesty, it was probably in my head. Old houses settle. Things fall.”

“Especially here.” His gaze skimmed over the dusty corners of the room. “If you think it was nothing, I believe you.”

I wished I could take the question back. The last thing I wanted to do was scare Grant. Or put ideas in his head. “I think it’ll be okay.”

“If you tell me this will all turn out for the best, I’ll fart in your sleeping bag.” He groaned, the mood lightening. “Mom’s been repeating it to me for the last week.”

I chuckled. “I know. It’s a little annoying.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.”

Mom’s footsteps vibrated through the floorboards beneath us as she came in. Her long, dark hair floated behind her in a tangled cloud that still looked gorgeous.

“Done. The bathroom is good to go. Who wants to shower first?”

I pointed to Grant. “He smells worse.”

He rolled his eyes and stood. I giggled as Mom went into the other room to put down the cleaning stuff. I tugged on his pant leg as he walked past and whispered, “You can check to see if there’s actually hot water.”

“You better hope there is.”

I smiled as he grabbed some clothes from a duffel on the floor and rounded the corner to the bathroom. I was thrilled there was a full bath downstairs, because the thought of going upstairs made my skin crawl. Every time I turned my attention to the upper level, I could feel someone waiting for me, daring me to creep up the steps.

I shook my head as Mom sat down on the couch behind me. Dreaming up ghosts wouldn’t help anything. Eventually I’d have to pick a room and sleep up there. Alone.

In the dark.

“Is your brother going to be able to handle this?” A tremor ran through Mom’s voice. The sound of water rushing through pipes in the walls indicated Grant couldn’t hear us.

“I think he’s upset. But he’s a guy. They never handle things well. It’s in their DNA.”

Mom chuckled, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “That’s an understatement.”

I turned to look at her. One hand rubbed her forehead, and her eyes were bright with moisture.

“You keep telling us things will work out. Don’t have second thoughts now.” I spread my arms, gesturing to the piles of boxes. “We’ve already moved all this crap. If you want it moved again, you’re going to have to hire someone.”

“I’m afraid maybe this was too much. For both of you. But I really feel like this is the start we need. A foundation we can build on and make something that belongs to us alone.”

Something without Dad in it. I got the message. The divorce had been civil, but it hadn’t been pretty. Where Grant and Dad were concerned, it got downright ugly. Grant had asked Dad when we’d see him next. He avoided answering until Grant couldn’t stand it and demanded a response. So as he’d slid the last packed suitcase into his car, Dad told him he didn’t know. He needed space to work out his life.

Grant had flipped him off and suggested some anatomically impossible things he could do with himself while he was out soul-searching. Dad tried to speak to me before he left, but all he managed to do was flush an amazing shade of red and climb into the car, driving off without a second glance.

It hurt more than I thought it would, but it wouldn’t kill me. Dad and Grant had been inseparable when he was younger. But once Grant grew out of T-Ball and Cub Scouts, Dad’s interests had turned to other pursuits. Ones with short skirts, implants, and blond hair.

I focused back on the television. Mom’s voice grew even softer. “What about you, Claire? Are you all right?”

And there was the opening. The place where I lied and pretended like it was nothing big. Like the world hadn’t fallen to pieces. I didn’t take it. I wrapped my arms around my knees. “No. Some things take time. I’m sure some day it will be all right.”

Mom rubbed my shoulders. “I am sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault. Dad made his choices. We’ve made ours. Now we’ve got to move on.”

“You are always so much older than your age. Sometimes I forget you’re a teenager too. I have to stop talking so much when you’re listening.”

A statement Mom made often. I bit back a remark. Everyone told me things they wouldn’t necessarily tell anyone else. They always had. Maybe it was my face, or the way I listened, or maybe just because I was there. I didn’t know.

“It’s okay, Mom. I know you need someone to talk to. No biggie.”

The fingers moving over my shoulders dug in a little harder. “Yes it is. You’re too young to listen to your mother complain about life. I’ve said too much about your father, your brother…everything.”

“No, of course not. I don’t mind at all.” But I do. I’m your kid, not your shrink.

Mom patted my back and sighed. “I mind. I’ll try to do better.” She paused, shifted, and sighed. “Tomorrow we’ll get the rest of the boxes, clean up things, and then on Monday we’ll go and get you two registered for school.”

“I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t mind skipping that.”

She tugged on my hair. “Maybe so, but we will. It’s your senior year. The best time you’ll have in high school.”

I wanted this year to be better than the others. But I wouldn’t hold my breath. The sound of water stopped and my shoulders slumped in relief. Grant emerged a few minutes later in pajama pants.

“That was the shortest shower ever.” I pretended to sniff the air around him.

He shrugged. “I’m clean. Who cares how long it takes?”

I rose. “My turn.”

I slipped from the room, clutching clothes to my chest and taking deep breaths. This would be a new start for us. Whether it would be as good as Mom believed had yet to be seen. For all our sakes, I hoped so.

***

With the lights off, the house was a different kind of dark, even with the small nightlight plugged into the wall near the doorway. Mom claimed it was to keep anyone from tripping in unfamiliar surroundings, but I knew better. It was for my benefit; a teenage girl who couldn’t stand being in the dark, alone or not.

The fact made me feel small and ashamed. Not because my family said much about it. Grant never did, and Mom, after a few tries at a shrink, had been supportive. Dad was the one who tried to break me of it, but even he stopped after the first few night terrors.

It was better for everyone if there was a little light.

I slipped headphones on and turned my iPod on repeat. The sound of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata gently soared over the sound of waves against the shore. It was the water. The rhythm of it. No matter what season or time of day, it kept a steady beat. The surf might be rough and angry, punching the air with loud throbs, or it could be soft and gentle, whispering its endless tune. Beneath it all, the steady intervals never changed. It was a way to focus.

I rolled over, pressed back against the front of the couch, and pillowed my hands beneath my cheek. I could do it. Had been doing it. This was all an upset to my routine, but it would be okay. The waves helped, reducing my elevated heart rate to its normal, steady beat—perfectly in line with the ocean.

Still, sleep wouldn’t come. My eyes were swollen with fatigue, and my body ached with it. But the feeling of something in the thick blackness outside the doorway nagged at me. I tugged off one earpiece and waited.

A creak whistled through the air, then what seemed like a sigh. Could have been the wind. A small breeze curling from beneath a window frame. But I didn’t think so.

“Enough,” I whispered. “Go away.”

To my surprise the house stilled, silent as a tomb and tense as a funeral. Then another creak shot through the dark, and the feeling of being watched lessened, then left. I risked a glance at the doorway again. The darkness lost some of its texture.

I rolled back over, replaced the earpiece, and tried to calm my beating heart back into the rhythm of the music.

Peace didn’t come for a long time.

Chapter Three

“How did you sleep?” Mom’s cheerful chirp made me cringe. My head pounded and I rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my hands as I sat up.

“All right, I guess. But I’ve got a crushing headache.”

Mom frowned from where she leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m sorry. Let’s get some breakfast in you and see if it helps.”

Grant rolled over and groaned, flopping an arm across his face. “Dear God, let us sleep.”

“Come on, butthead. It’s time to get up and get moving. Pun intended.”

“Moving? Ha, ha.” He peered from beneath his elbow and sneered. “Being clever so early in the morning?”

I shrugged. “Who can argue with brilliance?”

“Whatever.”

“Want the bathroom first, or can I have it?” I stood and stretched.

“Go ahead. Wake me up when you’re done.” He rolled over and started snoring again.

I changed clothes, brushed my teeth, and pulled a comb through my hair. I twisted it into a loose braid. With each tug of my fingers my head throbbed, but my hair would be wild if I didn’t pull it back.

That done, I returned to the living room. Putting my pajamas on my pillow, I nudged Grant with one socked foot. “Your turn, bro. Get up!”

He mumbled a few rude words, but staggered to his feet and toward the bathroom. I padded into the kitchen. Half the cabinets were open and a bucket of soapy, brown water sat in the sink. Shelf liner had been cut and stacked on the counter.

“I got a head start on things. You two were really out. I figured you’d be awake the second I started making any noise, but you never twitched.”

Sliding into a seat, I accepted a glass of orange juice and snagged a piece of toast. “Being used as child labor does that to you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re so mistreated and abused.”

I smiled at Mom, who returned to the cabinets. A step stool sat out next to the counter, and she climbed up, scrubbing the wooden shelf with a thick sponge. Dirt and grime caked it, floating on top of the bucket of water.

She sighed and climbed down. “This is the third bucket already, and I’ve just started. The house has been empty five years, but it seems like it might as well have been five hundred.”

“Maybe whoever lived here before neglected things a little.”

Her voice grew hard, and she glared at me. “It’s a crime what they’ve let happen here.”

“Okay. But we’re fixing it.” I didn’t know what to make of her sudden anger.

Grant stifled a yawn and sat down next to me. “When are we getting the rest of the stuff?”

Mom’s shoulders relaxed, and the crease in her brows smoothed. “As soon as you’re done eating, we’ll get on the road. I want to make sure we get back early this afternoon so we aren’t unloading in the dark.”

Icy fingers stroked down my back. Alone all day in this creepy house. Great.

“Okay.”

Mom smiled. “I’ll get this set up for you, Claire, and then grab my keys and purse. By the time I’ve gotten everything together, you’ll probably be done.”

She dumped the dirty water in the sink, and I grimaced at the amount of sludge swirling around the drain. It was good I put on the oldest clothes I owned, because it looked like I’d be getting dirty.

Mom finished refilling the bucket, and dropped the sponge into the water. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Grant continued to hoover his food.

I propped my chin on my hand. “You can breathe between bites, you know. No one’s going to take it from you.”

He rolled his eyes and scooped out the last bit of sugary mix. “I’m a growing boy.” He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. “Claire?”

I stared at him.

“Are you going to be all right if we leave you today?”

Surprised, I nodded. “Why?”

“You were doing a lot of moaning in your sleep last night. And you were crying at one point. Something’s bothering you, and it isn’t just Dad.”

“Did I wake up Mom too?”

He brushed shaggy hair from his face. “No. You weren’t loud. I only noticed because I had trouble sleeping too. Too much pizza, new place, you know, too much everything.”

I did know. “I’ll be okay. I have to get past it sometime, right? Sooner the better, because we’re stuck here now.”

He slid from the chair and put his bowl in the other sink. “Well, I’ll leave my cell phone in my pocket. If you need me, call.”

Tears burned my eyes. Considering my brother was two years younger, sometimes he acted far more mature than his age. Especially since my “accident” two years ago.

“I mean it, Sis. Call if you need me.”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

He headed toward the living room. As he stepped outside the room, I called him back. Anxiety pushed at my chest. “You were up last night. Did you notice anything…weird?”

He paused, but didn’t turn around. My stomach sank. Of course he hadn’t. Only I seemed to have such unusual problems.

“Yes.” He continued on his way, leaving me to stare after him, confused.

And strangely hopeful.

***

“We should be back before three. Work on things downstairs for now. I hate to leave all this to you, but we’ve got to get everything out today.”

I waved at Mom from the porch, only partially listening to the list of chores and tips she rattled off. Half my attention remained acutely aware of the dilapidated structure behind me. There was a presence about it. The skin between my shoulder blades twitched, as if someone stood behind me on the porch, and they weren’t pleased to see me.

“Honestly,” I whispered as Mom drove the moving truck out onto the road. “I’m not thrilled to be here.”

I turned and glared at the open doorway, the black rectangle like the maw of some great beast. “But we’re here, and there’s nowhere else to go. So you’re going to have to deal with it. Like it or not, we’re staying.”

I thought I heard a low growl emanate from the depths of the house. But it was so faint and quick, I couldn’t be sure. All the same, my heart pounded in my ears.

I have to try. I clenched my fists. I can’t be ruled by my fear. Not again.

Still, it didn’t stop the chills running down my back. I yanked open the screen door and stomped inside, headed for the kitchen. The key to the supernatural was the same as with any other wild creature: never let them sense fear.

I’d always been able to sense spirits. But after last year, things were different. I’d gotten too comfortable. Cocky. And I paid for it. Oh, had I paid for it.

Cabinets were as good a place as any to start. Maybe if I kept busy, I could ignore the feeling of eyes watching me. Hauling the bucket onto the counter, I fished in the lukewarm water for the sponge. As my fingers squeezed the slimy foam, another growl echoed around me, this one clear as day.

My heart stuttered, but I refused to look around. Nothing would be there anyway. I knew it as sure as I knew my name. Silence fell like a thick blanket. The noise from birds and distant traffic outside seemed muted.

Two distinct thumps vibrated the wall behind the cabinets, followed by another growl.

I jumped down from the counter, my whole body awash with tingling nerves. “I said that’s enough!” Fear battled with my anger as I strode into the hall. My anger for the divorce, the move, the state of the house, and the way my life had crumbled.

“Get over yourself and keep out of my way.”

Down the hall, which ended at a room that might have been a study, I saw a shadow pass across the doorway. Anger won over fear. “Do you hear me?”

Common sense told me to run and never look back. My stubbornness demanded I check out what I saw. The air grew colder the closer I got, but I pushed on, despite the shivers and puffs of visible air that thickened with each step.

The anger drained from my body, leaving me feeling stupid and afraid. The darkness back here was thicker. Like molasses, sticking to everything and dimming it. Boxes partially blocked the door to the room. I stopped several feet short of the threshold and stood on tiptoe, looking into the shadows. The room appeared to have become a dumping ground for whatever had been left in the house no one wanted.

“Great,” I muttered. “Not only will we have to move all our shit, we’ll have to move this too.”

Something stirred in the back, and I caught a faint squeak. My lip curled. “A mouse. I came back here for a frickin’ mouse.”

Shaking my head, I turned away and headed back to the kitchen. The silence in the house throbbed in my ears, and just when I turned the corner, a loud bang made me jump.

I stood there, fists clenched, and then stuck my head around the doorway. The back room’s door was closed.

Staying inside with the silence was not going to be an option. With a deep breath, I ran into the living room, dug through my sleeping bag, and grabbed my iPod. Wiggling the ear buds into place, tunes jangled cheerfully in my ears and drowned out the oppressive silence.

***

It took two hours and by the time I finished, my knees were numb from kneeling on the countertops. I felt as dirty as a piece of gum on someone’s shoe. But the combination of hard work and music kept the growling entity in the house out of sight and mostly out of mind.

I brushed a damp strand of hair from my face and jumped to the floor. The room was massive, with tons of storage space. There were only the bottom shelves to get through, probably another hour of work.

We’d be lucky if to make the bottom floor livable before school started next week.

School. Another topic that made dread curl through my gut. The only thing I had going for me was no one here would know anything. I could start over with a clean slate. The idea made school more appealing.

My stomach rumbled, and I washed my hands, moving to the small bag of groceries Mom bought on the way here. I pulled a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a plastic knife out to make a sandwich. My iPod beeped and I took it off, frowning when the low battery sign flashed across the screen. It had just been charged. No way it should have run out already.

I closed my eyes, opening the door in my mind a crack. Since the incident, I’d kept my psychic guards under tight control. So tight, I didn’t feel anything much out of the ordinary anymore. At least, not until we’d moved here.

A spirit in the house moved, aware I looked for them. The sense of satisfaction was there, and I slammed the block up again with a sigh. I’d never understood why ghosts went for my iPod battery first.

I wrapped the headphones around it and laid it on the counter, then took a seat, poured a cup of pop, and ate my lunch. Whatever lurked in the house, it was intelligent. A fact that spooked and annoyed me. How cliché was it to buy the hulking old house in the outskirts of town and discover a ghost? All we needed now was the whole cast of horror movie characters and we could have a party.

As I popped the last bite of bread and peanut butter in my mouth, the distinct click and rattle of a loose door handle ricocheted around the room. Quietly, I padded to the doorway and stuck my head out. The doorway at the end of the hall was open again.

Chapter Four

Claire.

The noise could have been anything. My heart rate sped up as I sat down on the couch with a groan.

Claire Mallory.

I sat up, my eyes wide. There was no mistaking that. My name. My whole name. Spoken aloud, I thought. My entire body trembled as I turned my head, taking in the whole room. Light filtered in through the window next to me, dust motes dancing in the light beams caused by the blinds.

A slight movement to my right, just in the corner of my eye, caught my attention. By the time I looked at the wide doorway leading to the hall, whatever had been there was long gone.

The house throbbed with silence again. Eyes watched me, though I couldn’t tell where. My palms were damp with sweat, and I rubbed them on the edge of my shorts. Once, I could have figured it out. Would have opened my mind and tried to contact whatever was there. But those days had ended, and fear of what might happen stopped me from trying.

“I can’t help you, if that’s what you want.” The whispered words were like a shout in the quiet.

There was no response; no change in the atmosphere. For a few long moments, I thought perhaps it was finished. Then I heard soft, running footsteps move across the ceiling, and I glanced upward. I sat like that, stock still with my heartbeat loud in my ears, for several minutes.

But it appeared that whatever called for me was not going to say anything else. I grabbed my cell phone from the coffee table and flicked a finger over the screen to check the time. Not nearly as late as I wished. Grant and Mom hadn’t called yet, which meant they hadn’t left. I had at least two hours, maybe more before they returned.

Two hours could be an eternity.

I’d plugged my iPod in and it should be charged by now. But it was in the kitchen, and I couldn’t bring myself to cross through the hallway again. The silence without music or ghostly bumps was so thick it felt like someone was screaming.

The longer I stayed in here, touched the doors, counters, and fabric of the house, the more I believed there had been a lot of screaming. By many people. The why and the reality of it were there, lurking under the surface. It made me uneasy. The house held secrets, and I was afraid of how they might reveal themselves.

There were plenty of boxes to unpack, things to clean, but I needed noise and a chance to calm myself. Moving off the couch slowly, listening to anything else, I went through Grant’s sleeping bag and found the remote. There was nothing on TV, but it didn’t matter. Anything to keep my mind off the house, the presence, and the strange goings-on.

***

Two hours later, an engine drew close and I heard a car door slam before the noise died. Never had I been so glad to hear that sound.

“Claire! We’re back!”

I rose, dusted my hands off on the back of my shorts, and headed for the front door. Grant met me there, a heavy load in his arms. Outside, the wind had kicked up, blowing the branches around wildly.

Mom fiddled with the back of the truck.

“Come on.” Grant pushed past, sliding the box in the doorway. “It’s going to pour any minute, and we’ve got to get the furniture inside. It’ll take all three of us. ”

I slipped on my sneakers and followed him outdoors. We managed to get the television stand, kitchen table and chairs, and all the bedroom furniture inside before the skies opened. Now we had to thread our way through a jungle of furniture, and there were still boxes in the back of the truck.

Mom stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, watching the rain.

“We might have to leave it there until tomorrow.” She sighed. “I’ll run out and pull down the door so nothing gets wet.”

Without waiting, she sprinted outside to the truck, yanking on the nylon strap that dangled from the bottom of the door, then ran back. I opened the door and stepped back, letting my dripping mother into the house.

“How about a hug?”

I squealed and ducked behind a dresser. “No way. But I’m sure Grant needs one.”

He appeared around the corner, and Mom wrapped her arms around him, laughing as he sputtered and wriggled away from her.

“You two should really shower. Being wet isn’t improving your smell.” I giggled.

Mom laughed and headed for the small bathroom, stopping long enough to grab her overnight bag from the living room. Grant stood across from me, a wet stain across his chest. “You think this is funny, don’t you?’

“Hilarious.”

He rolled his eyes. “You need to get out more.”

“Bite me.”

“No way. You reek.”

He chuckled and headed into the kitchen. I followed.

Grant poked his head in the refrigerator, then closed the door with a sigh. “There’s nothing to eat.”

“I was hoping for Chinese tonight.” I perched on a bar stool next to the kitchen island. “What do you think?”

“Don’t care as long as I get fed.” He glanced around. “You were busy today.”

“Had to be.”

His eyes refused to meet mine. “How was it? Quiet?”

I paused. “Sure.”

“You’re lying.”

With a sigh, I rubbed my face. “You really don’t want to know what happened today. You’ll get freaked out.”

“I knew it. This place is haunted isn’t it?”

I could deny it, but it wouldn’t do any good. A few more days and it would be pretty obvious, unless whatever it was chose to stay hidden. Somehow, I didn’t think it would happen. “I think that’s a safe assumption.”

“Shit. Did you see anything?”

“Shadows and some noise.” I didn’t mention hearing my name. No need to get him worried.

Grant ran a hand over his face. He tried hard to hide it, but I could see the goose flesh rise on his arms. “Holy crap.”

“Don’t freak on me, Grant. You know how this works. No one else could see the last time. The same thing could happen here. Maybe I’m the only one who notices.”

Slowly his head shook. “No, I knew already.”

“What?”

“I had horrible nightmares last night. And when I woke up, I heard someone walking around upstairs. But we were all down here. At one point, I was certain I saw something watching us from the doorway.”

Happiness warred with worry. I couldn’t help being a little thrilled. This time, I wasn’t alone. No one could accuse me of being crazy if Grant saw it too. On the other hand, I didn’t want it for him either. He tried hard to be a macho man, but he was still my little brother.

“Do me a favor, Grant?”

He crossed his arms. “What?”

“Don’t tell Mom.”

His lips twisted up. “Of course not. Not after last time.”

I shivered. “Thanks.”

“I’m starving, and there’s not much we can do about it right now. Want to go get Chinese with me?”

I nodded, and Grant moved to stand in front of the bathroom door, yelling over the shower where we were going. Mom shouted an agreement and I grabbed my purse from the living room, stopping long enough to pull a couple bills from Mom’s wallet.

“Do you think it’s safe to leave her here alone?”

I pulled the keys to the car from the wall next to the door. “Mom’s still a skeptic, even after everything that’s happened.” I paused, listening to the house. Nothing besides the oppressive darkness that seemed normal for this place. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t want rid of us yet. She’ll be fine.”

“All right, then.”

The storm outside hadn’t let up, so we sprinted to the car and jumped inside. The sound of the rain on the roof was a dull roar.

“Geez. I didn’t think we’d moved into monsoon territory.” Grant wiped water from his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

Steering the car down the driveway, I chuckled. “Just hope the roof doesn’t leak.”

It took us nearly double the time it should have to drive into town. Mom had called when we were almost to the restaurant to check on us. Grant delivered directions with an imperious finger while he assured Mom we were fine.

Finally, the blinking neon lights of Xun King Chinese Restaurant appeared in the gloomy evening. A grocery store and small hardware store were nestled on either side in the small strip shopping center. I pulled into a parking spot in the front, glad we wouldn’t have to run across the parking lot in the rain.

“Want to stop by the grocery store while we’re out?”

Grant sighed. “Are you really asking?”

“Nope.”

“Then let’s get our order in and then we’ll go to the store.” He rubbed his hands together. “I could use some snacks.”

“Hey, we’re getting basics. Not enough cheese doodles to kill an army.”

“Party pooper.”

We placed an order in the small Chinese restaurant, and then moved to the grocery store with twenty minutes to kill. Grant grabbed a buggy, despite my protest we didn’t need it. Before we left, I knew he’d have snuck in at least two bags of stuff we didn’t need.

Ten minutes later, as I stood in the magazine aisle flipping through a craft magazine, the world shifted on its axis. I looked up from a description of a Halloween costume made of pantyhose and black pants to see the most gorgeous boy I’d ever laid eyes on.

He was tall, broad shouldered, with short, messy blond hair and what I could only describe as chiseled features. I struggled to close my mouth and stop drooling, because I knew I had to be.

“Hey! Claire!”

I whirled, dropping the magazine in the process.

Grant loped up the aisle and I bent down to retrieve the magazine. But the mystery guy held it out with a smile.

“You must be the new kids living out on Cherrystone Lane?”

I nodded and slid the magazine back into the shelf. Clearing my throat, I smiled. “I’m Claire, and this is my brother Grant.”

“Haven Elliott. I live next door.” His lips tilted in a half-smile. “Or as close to it as you can get, out where we are.”

“Hello.” Grant reached out to shake Haven’s hand. “You spoke to us instead of acting like we’re invaders, so you must be all right.”

A chuckle escaped Haven, but the interest and friendliness on his face dimmed a when an older woman walked past, sniffing and giving us all a visual once-over. “Yes, well, it’s a small town.”

Grant opened his mouth, and I stomped on his foot. “Sorry. My brother doesn’t have the filter between brain and mouth most people have.”

“No worries. He isn’t saying anything I haven’t heard before.”

I glared at Grant. “Don’t encourage him.”

He glanced down at the random assortment of items in the cart. “Cheese doodles and cool-whip for dinner?”

“That’s what happens when you leave little brothers unattended with the cart.” I shrugged. “We’re waiting on Chinese and picking up a few things while we’re here.”

Haven nodded. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’ll see you when school starts.”

I nodded and flashed an inane smile. Haven moved past, down the aisle and out of sight. As soon as he did, Grant laughed and smacked my shoulder. “You might want to get some paper towels to wipe your chin, loser.”

“Bite me.”

“Nah, I’ll leave that for lover boy.”

Heat swept in a fresh wave over my face and I grabbed the cart. “I’m going to ignore you. We need lunch meat and bread and then we’re out of here.”

Grant sighed. “Come on! I can’t help it. You never date, so I have to get my kicks in while I can.”

“I was talking to a stranger who introduced himself. Not fishing for a date.”

He grinned again. “Yeah, but you’d have jumped on it if he asked.”

I glared, but didn’t say anything else. We moved through the rest of the store, grabbing a few more essentials. Then we checked out and took the items to the car.

Either Fate was being nice, or having a great laugh at my expense, but another guy around my age stood inside the restaurant as we ran back in. Based on previous experience, I’d bet on the latter. He was tall, lanky with sandy hair and a wide smile. When we walked in, he gave us a curious glance, and then stuck out one hand.

“I’m Bryan Cathers. I might be a little forward, but it’s easy to spot new faces in a town this small.”

I stared for a moment, then shook my head and shook his hand. “Sorry. I’m being rude. I’m Claire Mallory.”

I ran a hand over my bedraggled hair and grimaced. Didn’t even want to think about how I looked at the moment. Two guys introducing themselves in one day? Of course I would look like a mess.

“You guys are the ones moving into the house on Cherrystone, right?” Bryan asked.

Grant sighed. “Apparently everyone knows our house better than we do.”

Bryan’s smile brightened. “Well, it is a pretty intense house, don’t you think?”

He had no idea. I pasted on a smile. “We haven’t really been there long enough to find out.”

Awkward silence descended between us. Bryan cleared his throat. “Well, if you need help, feel free to come over and grab me. My house is just through the woods a bit. We’re your closest neighbors. Just past the Elliot house.”

Grant shot me a look and chuckled. “Ah, Haven! Yeah, we just met him.”

A frown creased Bryan’s brows. “Haven Elliott isn’t really what I’d call a neighbor.”

I didn’t know what to say. His tone didn’t invite questions. “Well, thanks for the offer. You might regret it before we’re finished.”

He laughed, though it sounded a little forced. “Well, it will be my own fault, right?”

There was another moment of silence, and behind the counter, a petite Asian teenager smiled and told us our order was ready.

Handing Grant the money for dinner, I hung back with Bryan, determined not to be rude, despite the apprehension fluttering in my stomach. I wasn’t attracted to him, though he was cute. I didn’t want to be close to him. He made me feel strangely dirty. I couldn’t really place the feeling or why it appeared.

“So, are you registered for classes yet?”

I shook my head. “It’s on the agenda for this week. I’ll probably be stuck in all freshman classes because we’re so late signing up.”

Bryan patted my arm. “Maybe. But it’s a small school. It won’t be as bad as you think.”

Nothing can be as bad as the place I left…Forcing a smile, I nodded and mumbled something appropriately non-committal.

He seemed to sense my thoughts. “I think I owe you an apology.”

I blinked. “What?”

Bryan’s face flushed. “I know I come off a little intense. I apologize. I’m an impatient person on a good day, and new people our age in town almost never happens. So I’m sorry if I’m a little too enthusiastic.”

“No, it’s nice to know someone is interested in being friends.”

He laughed. “You don’t have to cover it up, I know what I’m like. But thanks for trying anyway.”

I smiled, a little more genuinely this time. “No problem.”

Finally, Grant pocketed the change and stepped between us. “Sorry to break this up, but I’m starved. We’ll see you around, Bryan.”

He shook both our hands.

“Thanks for the offer of help.” I forced the words out, wiping my hand over the back of my jeans and hoping he didn’t notice. His touch felt clammy, slightly off despite his friendliness.

“No problem. Have a good night!”

For once, I was glad to let Grant be rude and drag me away before our conversation descended into even more awkwardness.

He clutched dinner to his chest as we jogged to the car.

“Geez, we haven’t even been here twenty-four hours and you’re picking up boys already?”

I slid into the driver’s seat with relief. “Oh, yeah, cause he totally wants this hot mess.” I shoved the keys in the ignition and spread my arms, raising an eyebrow at Grant.

“There’s no accounting for taste.” Grant waited until I pulled out of the parking lot before adding, “He’s a weirdo, Claire. Please go for the blond one.”

My lips lifted. “I’ll keep that in mind when I’m making up my list of possible dating candidates.”

“They’re flocking to you like birds.” He dug in the brown paper bag and pulled out an eggroll. Stuffing a large portion in his mouth, he chewed and swallowed. “I’m pretty sure Hitchcock did a movie about that.”

***

When we got home, lights shone from the second floor windows, and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. There was no escaping it—I’d have to go upstairs tonight.

The Chinese food didn’t smell quite so appetizing anymore. Grant called out for Mom as we entered. Her response drifted down the stairwell, beckoning us upstairs like a whiff of perfume.

Grant slid the Chinese food on the counter with a mournful look and we made our way down the hall to the staircase. Dark wooden banisters boasted finely carved leafy swirls and complicated patterns. If I hadn’t been dreading whatever lay up there, it would have been pretty.

Grant bounded up, and I followed slowly, each step an act of will. He gave me a strange look as he stood at the top of the stairs. “Move it, sis. I’m starving, and you know she won’t come down until we see whatever it is she’s found.”

I nodded and forced myself to take the stairs two at a time until I stood at the top, panting. Sweat beaded on my upper lip and I wiped it away, my eyes darting around. The presence in the house was stronger here, but different.

There’s more than one presence here? Shit.

“Come in here and see this, sweetie. It’s fantastic!” Mom waved at me from a lit room at the other end of the landing.

I almost ran to Mom and Grant, sliding into the doorway and suppressing a shiver. The room was huge, with its own spiral staircase that led upward into the turret of the tower. Mom pointed at the stairs. The darkness there was thick and far too dense to see through.

“What is this?” I asked.

“I don’t know what it was used for originally. I think the house might have been a hospital or asylum maybe. I’ve found two old cot frames, and this amazing wheelchair.” She motioned to the side, and my gaze turned to a wheelchair made around the turn of the century. The wood was cracked in places, and blanketed with a thick coating of dust.

Every hair on my body stood on end and I took a step back. “Amazing isn’t quite the word I’d use for it.” I muttered. Luckily, Mom was already off on another tangent about the shape of the room.

Grant and I exchanged a glance and moved away from the chair. Mom gestured wildly, so I slapped on a smile.

“This will be a fantastic library when I get the old wallpaper down and shelving up. Can you see it?”

Mom’s enthusiasm was tangible, and my expression turned more genuine. “Sure, Mom. But right now, can we see the inside of the take-out bag?”

Mom laughed and threw her arms around our shoulders, and squeezed. “Sure, let’s go eat.” We walked to the door, where we stopped. She turned around, her eyes on the room, a slightly fanatical light there. Her hands ran down our arms and squeezed our hands. “This is a good place. With a little effort and elbow grease, you’ll love it. I promise.”

Grant and I nodded and headed downstairs. As we clomped down the steps, I swore someone chuckled from the landing above. But when I tipped my head back and looked, nothing was there but shadows thrown by the lamp left in the soon-to-be-library.

“Stop it.” I paused in the middle of the steps.

I waited, expecting some sort of response, but nothing happened. With a shrug, I took the last few stairs quickly, glad to get away from the second floor. I dreaded the day Mom insisted we claim a bedroom up there. Somehow, I thought the entities in the house would enjoy it far more than me.

Chapter Five

“So, are you ready to start school?” Mom asked. She tried to keep her tone casual and failed miserably.

I sighed, sinking farther into the passenger seat. “I’m fine. Quit worrying. This is a new place. No one here knows anything about what happened before. I’ll be all right.”

“I want this to be perfect for you. It’s your senior year. You only get one of them.”

Grant snorted in the back seat. “Unless you flunk English or something.”

Mom glared into the rear view mirror. “Not funny, Grant.”

I pressed my forehead to the window glass, wishing this was already over. Mom made it more of an ordeal than she needed to. All I could hope for was her continued silence. If she said anything about what happened before—and the days of medication and psychiatrists—this would be the longest year ever. Teenagers weren’t known for their compassion. I learned that the hard way.

The school was as small as the town, which was a tight-knit community. Just what I needed. The moment we walked in the door, the guidance counselors, already looking glassy-eyed and stressed behind their piles of paperwork, seemed to go into overdrive. They smiled and welcomed us, but I wondered if they secretly groaned at the sight of us.

Mom filled out the paperwork, and Grant and I tried to pick a schedule we’d be happy with. I also received the information about all the senior activities and deadlines. As I filled in the last slot on the scheduling form, a familiar voice called my name. I handed the paperwork to the counselor and turned.

Bryan stood in the doorway, looking genuinely surprised to see us. Beside me, Grant muttered, “Great. The weirdo is back.”

I elbowed him into silence.

“Bryan!” The counselor, Mrs. Boyd, smiled brightly. “Why don’t you give Grant and Claire a tour of the building while we finish up the other paperwork with Mrs. Mallory.”

“Sure, if they don’t mind.” He looked at me, waiting to see what I’d say. I noted he didn’t even glance at my brother. The action, or lack of it, rankled.

“Ready, Grant?” I asked.

He handed over the paper with a muffled groan.

“After you, Bryan.”

He led the way from the office, a wide smile on his face. He really did seem pleased to lead us around. Grant leaned over as we left and whispered, “He’s easily amused, don’t you think?”

I pressed a finger to my lips and glared. Outside the office, Bryan spread his hands wide. “What do you want to see first?”

“We’ll follow you,” I said.

Bryan’s chest seemed to swell. “Great. Well, this is obviously the guidance office—”

“Obviously,” Grant said.

Our guide’s smile dimmed a bit. “And right here is the main office.” He took a few steps down the hall to the glass-walled office. Cutting a glance at Grant, he said, “I’m sure neither of you have ever spent time in one of those.”

I forced a chuckle. He led us around the building, pointing out the library, the nurse’s office, and the different subject wings. The school was small, so the tour didn’t take much time. At the end, we were back at the guidance office.

“The building is a giant circle.” I smiled at him. “Thanks for the tour. I feel a lot better about not getting lost my first day.”

Grant made a noise behind me and I stepped back onto his toes. “We both really appreciate it.”

Bryan nodded. “No problem.” Before he could say anything else, Mom appeared behind us.

“Thanks, Bryan, for showing them around. Are we ready?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” Grant stepped away, following Mom to the door. I patted Bryan’s arm. “Thanks again.”

He nodded. “Sure.” For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something else, but resisted, just nodding again and turning back toward the guidance office.

I fled down the hall, my stomach in knots. Bryan confused me. He hadn’t done anything really odd. He seemed overly friendly, maybe, but this was a small town. Strangers were a novelty. I paused on the steps outside the school, half-turning. I could make friends here. Turn over a new leaf and be a normal teenager.

Until they found out about what happened before. The thought made my heart sputter. The memories of the torture I’d put myself through the last time haunted me.

I stepped back, turned away from the door, and hurried to catch up with Mom and Grant. I couldn’t afford to get too close to anyone. Just in case something happened again. Better to be on the outside of high school society.

Mom unlocked the car and we climbed in. As she turned the key and started the engine, she turned to me with a grin. “Well?”

“Well, what?” I buckled my seat belt and willed my cheeks to stay cool. It didn’t help. Heat traveled from my nape to my forehead.

“Come on, you have to tell me. You’ve only been here a few days and already you’ve got a crush?”

“Only on his end, Mom.” Unbidden, the image of the blond from the grocery store rose in my mind. My flush only got hotter.

“You don’t lie very well, sweetie. But I won’t pester you.” She chuckled and backed out of the parking space. “But I am glad for you.”

It sort of disturbed me Mom would be so thrilled at a boy paying attention to me. She’d been so supportive about the whole psychic thing; I’d never considered she might want me to be normal. Guilt swamped me. I could try harder. I should try harder.

Being normal was hard when you were so far off the mark to begin with. I relaxed into the seat as Mom drove out to the huge home improvement store on the other side of town.

“I thought you might want to pick your own colors out for your rooms,” Mom said, sliding her purse on her shoulder as we unloaded from the car.

“Fantastic.” The news brightened my outlook considerably. The house might be harboring spirits who didn’t want us around, but at least I’d get to decorate my room how I wanted.

“Have either of you chosen your room yet? We’ve got a few to pick from.”

Grant nodded. “I want the other tower room on the second floor.”

She turned expectantly to me. I shrugged. “Haven’t really decided yet.”

Mom’s gaze sharpened. “Why not?”

“Haven’t gotten that far.” The excuse was lame. “This was the fastest move ever, Mom.”

She sighed. “True. But you’ll have to make up your mind when we get back to the house. I want to get you both settled in rooms as soon as we can. The rest of the house can be messy, but you need your own spaces.”

“Sure thing.”

Mom moved ahead and Grant fell back. “You didn’t even put up a fight for it.”

“I don’t want to be on the second floor.”

He stared. “You want to be on the third? Or in the attic?”

I snorted. “Hardly. I was hoping for a room on the first floor.”

Grant stared hard at me for a moment. “I could ask why, but I don’t want to know. It’ll probably freak me out.” I didn’t answer and he shrugged. “You could turn the back study into a room.”

The image of a dark shadow crossing the doorway made me shudder. “No way. Besides, it’s full of junk. We have enough of our own to move.”

“Then you’re stuck upstairs.”

***

Grant, not that I’d ever admit it, was right. Which is why I found myself hauling a bucket of “Island Breeze” turquoise paint up the stairs a few hours later. Despite my apprehension, the prospect of a new room made me sort of happy. Mom had given us each a budget and let us go wild. I’d decided on making mine a tropical oasis.

Now I had to decide where I wanted to make that happen. Grant chose the room opposite Mom’s planned library, at the back of the house, facing the woods. I crept through the upstairs, tension knotting between my shoulder blades. Even though I felt nothing at the moment, being up here still made me uneasy.

The room next to Grant’s was open, and the bathroom we would share was next door. I stepped inside, and put down the bucket of paint. The room was bare of anything, but the floors looked like they were in good shape. A huge window ran from the left corner halfway across the room. It even had a window seat built in. Most important, when I turned cautiously in the center of the room, nothing bombarded me. There was no malice I could detect. Not even in the closet, which I forced myself to walk into. This was definitely my room.

“Well? Is this the winner?” Mom glanced inside the room, already in her painting clothes. She walked in and crossed to the window seat. “I thought you’d like this one.”

I smiled. “It’s got a window seat, and lots of room for my endless bookcases. What’s not to love?”

Her grin widened and she clapped her hands. “I knew you’d love it. It’s hard to see past the dirt, but once you do, the possibilities are mind-boggling.”

When she jumped up and hugged me, I returned the favor. I liked the room. Saying I loved the house might be a bit of a stretch, but I wouldn’t rain on her parade. “Let me go change my clothes and we can get painting.”

She pushed away and wiped her eyes. “I’m so glad you seem to be warming up to the house. I know it bothers you, somehow.”

The question in her words hung in the air between us. I ignored it. “Just lots of change this summer. It’ll be okay.”

She cupped my face in her hands. “You’re a good kid.”

“You’re only saying that because you want me to help paint Grant’s room,” I teased.

She laughed and kissed my forehead, releasing me. “Did it work?”

With a dramatic sigh, I nodded. “I suppose so. Let me go get changed and then I’ll come help.”

Chapter Six

Painting Grant’s room didn’t take long. We wiped down the cobwebs from the corners, spread out a couple of old sheets, and everyone grabbed a roller or brush. Mom cut in all the corners, and we filled in the remaining walls. We were done in under an hour.

Then we started on my room. While I swept the floor, Mom and Grant painted the trim, then the walls. When I finished, I grabbed a roller and started on the empty wall next to the closet.

“This color makes me feel like we should be blasting steel drums,” Grant said, wiping a hand across his forehead. A streak of blue paint smudged his cheek in the process.

I stepped back to survey the whole room. It was brighter already. “That was the idea.”

“I think it will look lovely when you get finished.” Mom swiped on one last line of paint along the baseboard and rose. Her eyes sparkled. “The curtains and things you picked up today will be great.”

Stretching, I dropped my roller in the tray and moved to the window seat. “I’ll have to get a cushion for this.” I traced a fingertip over the wood, which I hadn’t painted yet. There were a few cracks that needed to be filled first. It was dark, and while a bit dingy at the moment, it would be perfect once we got a couple coats of white paint on it. My eyes strayed to the window, where the sun brushed the treetops. The view was relaxing. More than I thought it would be.

As my gaze drifted over the tree line, I thought I caught the flash of a red coat between the trunks. I squinted, staring closer, but nothing was there.

“Can we start moving our boxes of things up here?” Grant asked.

Mom and I turned away from the window. She shook her head. “We really need to clean these floors one more time, then get your furniture and stuff in. If you get up early, we can probably do it tomorrow.”

Grant groaned. “Come on, Mom. There’s plenty of time left.”

“We have three more rooms to paint.” Mom smiled. “Since you’re both already dressed for the occasion, I can’t let the opportunity go to waste.”

***

Three hours later, most of the second floor was painted, and Grant and I were draped across the top steps while Mom rummaged around in the kitchen, promising spaghetti and meatballs in under an hour.

Grant scratched a chunk of paint off his arm.

“The point of wearing old clothes is to get the paint on them rather than you.”

“You should talk.”

I looked down at the spatters of paint on my arms. “I’m better off than you.”

He snorted. “I’m a boy. It’s expected, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

I didn’t comment on the sarcastic turn the last words held. Grant was doing a better job of hiding his feelings over the move and the divorce than I expected. We lapsed into silence, the scent of tomato sauce tickling my nose. Downstairs, Mom called our names.

As Grant rose, the distinct creak of footsteps echoed above us. His eyes widened and he glanced down at me. “Please tell me you heard that.”

I rose, dusted off the seat of my pants, and nodded. The staircase stretched up next to us, leading to the third floor. We stood, watching the shadows at the top for a brief moment. Nothing moved, despite three more distinct treads.

“How about some dinner?” I asked.

Grant raised an eyebrow and jerked a thumb upwards. “With what’s going on? Really?”

“Can we do anything about it?”

He shook his head.

“Then let’s get some food. We’re hungry, which we can do something about.”

I started down the stairs, ignoring the feeling of being watched. Grant didn’t follow. Turning back, he stood at the top of the stairs his eyes trained upward.

“I’m going to look.”

“Grant…”

“No. You’re going to come with me. We’re going to check and make sure what we heard is real.”

He started up the other stairs, and I rushed after him. If I said I didn’t want to look, I’d be lying. But the curiosity was buried under all the fear—both of what was in the house and of myself.

“This isn’t a great idea.”

Grant turned around, his face in shadow as we headed to the third floor. “But you’re here, aren’t you? You haven’t had an episode in ages. You’ve got it under control.”

That’s what I thought last time. Pushing the thought away, we paused at the top of the stairs. Mom’s voice was muffled now as she called our names again.

“Be right there!” I yelled down.

“Now what?” Grant whispered.

Crossing my arms I arched a brow at him. “You started this.”

We stood at the mouth of a long hallway, and all I saw in the blackness were doors lining both sides. All were shut.

Footsteps creaked to my right and I jumped. Beside me, Grant made a small noise and then tried to cover it with a cough. When I looked at him, he shrugged. “Dust.”

“Yeah.” I roll my eyes.

Gulping a mouthful of air, I stepped forward and wrapped my hand around the doorknob. Excitement throbbed in the air. Not mine. Not Grant’s. The house was enthusiastic we’d come up here.

I wiped my other hand down my hip. The metal under my fingers was cool to the touch. Cooler than it should have been up here in summertime.

I twisted the knob, but it didn’t turn. Locked. I rattled the knob, confused. Something wasn’t right about the handle. It felt…off somehow.

“What the heck?”

Grant moved closer. “Open it already!”

“I can’t,” I told him, moving back. “It’s locked.”

He reached for it with a grumble. “Who would lock it from the inside? That’s just stupid.”

I put a hand on his arm. Finally, I registered what bothered me. “It isn’t locked from the inside.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “The locks are on our side, Grant.”

He froze, his hand hovering over the knob. When he spoke, his voice shook. “Why would they be on the outside?”

Before I answered, something slammed into the door from the other side. We both jumped, turned, and ran for the stairs. The sound of the wood as it groaned under the loud thuds, and the insistent rattle of the knob, as if someone trapped on the inside was pounding for release followed us.

Mom stuck her head out of the kitchen door as we hurtled down the stairs, out of breath and panicked. Her mouth pulled into a frown. “What did you guys knock over?”

“Knock over? We didn’t—”

I nudged his elbow and shot him a glare.

“We didn’t knock over anything important.”

Mom stared at the two of us, and I struggled to put on an innocent face. With a shrug, she turned around and we followed her back into the warmth of the kitchen. Grant looked at me, a question in his gaze.

“We’ll talk later.” I whispered to him. “She’ll go nuts if we tell her what happened. Or she’ll tell us we’re crazy.”

“How? We didn’t make it up.” He hissed the words.

“Old house. It could have been a lot of other things.” I glanced over at Mom. “I’ve heard all the explanations, remember?”

We both sat down at the table while Mom poured the spaghetti and sauce into a bowl. Grant stared at me, a frown pulling a deep line between his brows.

I patted him on the back. “Don’t worry so much. It’ll be fine.”

Grant shook his head. “No, it won’t. Not for a long time. No matter what she does or doesn’t believe. She wants us to be happy. That this house is going to change everything. I think she’s right, just not for the same reasons.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Whatever. Right now, I’m hungry.”

If we were lucky, it would stop at footsteps, maybe an occasional cold spot. In a home this old, they would be easy to explain away. Hopefully it wouldn’t get any scarier. The thought of those locks upstairs, like prison cells, rose in my mind and I forced it away. We had enough drama of our own.

I smiled at Mom as she put the food on the table and dished up dinner. Twirling my fork in the pasta, I sent up a silent prayer it stayed quiet.

Mom finally broke the silence. “So, what do you need for school?”

Grant shoved a meatball in his mouth, his cheek puffed like a deranged chipmunk. When he tried to make a sound, Mom pointed her fork at him. “Don’t even think about talking with your mouth full.”

“Well, it would be good to find our book bags. I think we put the school stuff from last year in one box, but I have no idea where it is.”

She looked relieved. “I knew you’d have them packed together.”

“Anything to torture Grant, you know.”

He swallowed a mouthful of soda and burped. “Yeah, thanks so much, Sis.”

“You’re gross.”

He pointed at himself. “Boy. Duh.”

“Not a good enough reason to lose your manners,” Mom said. Under the weight of her glare, he mumbled an apology. “We’ve got about four days to get things sort of cleaned up and put away before Sunday. So you’re going to be roped into service, I’m afraid. No going out unless it’s to get things for the house.”

For once, Grant didn’t argue. We both nodded our heads.

“Great. I’m not so worried about getting to the third floor right now. There’s a ton of junk up there, and I have to ask the real estate agent when I talk to him tomorrow and see if the owner wants it back.”

“How do you know? I thought all those doors were locked.” I stared at Grant as the words fell from his mouth. He shot me a look and a small shrug.

Mom’s face dropped into a fierce frown. “Been snooping around, have you?” My eyes moved to her, the strange gruffness in her voice sending a chill down my arms. As soon as it came, her facial expression softened and she smiled. “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised. They aren’t all locked. Just a few. And there’s plenty up there, believe me.”

Grant mumbled something and resumed stuffing his face. Ignoring the strange moment, I flipped a hand at the back of the house. “You know there’s more stuff in the back rooms down here, right?” I asked.

Mom hand stopped mid-way to her mouth. “Which rooms?”

“The two back parlor rooms, or whatever they are. I looked in the one at the end of the hall the other day. It’s full of boxes of paperwork and crap. I think there’s even some old furniture in there.”

She tilted her head and gave me a strange look. “Claire, those rooms are locked. I’m supposed to pick up the key from the agent tomorrow.”

Silence fell like a heavy blanket. I blinked and forced a smile. “Oh.”

“I believe you, honey. But—” she bit her lip and reached across the countertop to squeeze my free hand. “Are you sure you saw it with your eyes? Or was it one of those psychic things?”

I hadn’t imagined it. But there was no way I could tell Mom that. So I pretended to think about it and then shrugged. “Must have been a psychic thing. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Everyone has gifts. Yours are a bit more unconventional.”

“Sure.” She squeezed my hand again and released me, turning to Grant and asking him about his plans for his rooms. Her cheerfulness was overdone, but I wouldn’t argue.

I loved Mom for trying to make it sound like she wasn’t freaked out. Despite her support, I could see it in her eyes. She might say she understood, but it was hard for her. At least she made the effort. It was more than Dad had done.

More than most people had done.

***

Claire. Help us.

I blinked in the darkness, confused. Mom snored softly on the couch next to me, and Grant was a dark lump nearby. I shifted, then realized that my arm resting on the outside of the sleeping bag was so cold it hurt. Like I’d just carried a bag of ice for miles.

I chalked the whisper up to my dreams and laid back against the pillow. Whimpering echoed around me. The sound was faint, but undeniable. Sobbing followed, getting only slightly louder. My heart pounded, but sympathy coursed through me. It sounded like a woman whose world had been torn apart. Raising my head from the sleeping bag I searched for the source.

In front of the now-blank television, Grant moaned softly and rolled over. The sound ceased, instantly. I waited for what seemed like hours. As I laid down, I grabbed the ear buds from where they’d fallen next to the pillow and put them in. As the music began again, I heard noise again. I popped then out. Grant was crying in his sleep.

I pulled myself out of the sleeping bag partway, reaching over to shake his shoulder. At my touch, he jumped, his arms flailing wildly.

“Grant,” I whispered. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

I could make out his outline as he sat up and rubbed his hands over his face.

“Are you okay?”

There was a pause, and I wasn’t sure he would answer me. “I don’t know.”

“You were crying in your sleep. I figured whatever it was, you probably wouldn’t mind if I woke you up.”

I tried to be light hearted, but I was concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely okay.” He sighed. “Just a nightmare.”

“Sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

I waited until he lay back down, and then crawled back into my makeshift bed. But now I was wide awake. All the same, I lay there quietly, willing sleep to come. Just when I thought I’d managed it, I heard a soft scraping noise. My eyes snapped open, and I watched Grant’s outline as he scooted his sleeping bag closer to Mom and I.

Without commenting, I closed my eyes, slid my hand under my pillows, and restarted my iPod.

Chapter Seven

Two days later, the house almost looked like a real home. Walls sported fresh paint, the floors were polished and the corners cleared of cobwebs. After putting the last curtain up, I stood back to survey my room.

Perfect.

They were wide enough to cover the whole window and window seat if I wanted. For the moment, I pushed them aside and tucked the fabric into two hooks on either side of the alcove. My bed had a canopy of sheer white fabric, and I’d picked a comforter with bright Caribbean colors to match. Wicker furniture painted white filled in the rest. If I closed my eyes and concentrated, I could almost hear the waves crashing outside my window.

Some parts of the move were beginning to improve.

“Looks very tropical, Sis.”

I spun toward Grant’s voice. “I know. Wait until I get the pictures up.”

“Is that what you disappeared in the craft store for yesterday?”

I nodded. “Yup. Destination photos. Beaches. Castles. All the things I want to see someday.”

He sat down on the window seat. “Your lover boy called earlier. I told him you were out.”

My mood deflated a little. “Bryan? Again? That’s three times this week.”

“Why don’t you tell him to get lost? He’s weird.”

With a snort, I picked up one of the framed photos I had stacked next to the bed. “It might sound hypocritical coming from me.”

Grant shrugged. “He doesn’t know that.”

I set the picture down with a sigh. “I don’t really like him all that much either, but he’s a start. I don’t want to begin school as the strange new kid. Bryan acts like the kind of person who knows everyone. So I’m trying to be nice.”

Grant laughed. “You’re using him for his social connections?”

When he put it that way, I felt like pond scum. “Shut up. That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s okay. Please promise me you aren’t going to date him.”

“Why would I? He’s just being nice.” I refused to see it as anything else.

His brows rose. “The boy is crushing on you hard. If you told him to bark like a dog, he’d ask what breed.”

“Grant, stop it. I’m not trying to be mean. I want to be normal here. I want to make friends.” I glared. “Bryan seems like the kind who can either make sure I never hang out with anyone, or introduce me to the whole student body. If he’s too friendly, I’ll deal with it. It’s a small town, and eventually the novelty will wear off. Then he’ll go fixate on someone else.”

My brother blinked at me, then rubbed a hand through his hair. “I guess I never really considered that. Sorry.”

“I am what I am and I’m okay with it. But I’d like to keep my secrets to myself as long as I can.” Though it had never worked before. Eventually I’d slip up and know something I shouldn’t, and the rumors would start. Until then, I could pretend I was normal.

“Well, I like you.”

I laughed. “Thanks.”

He paused in the middle of the room. “Have you noticed Mom lately? She’s seriously wrapped up in this place.”

I followed him to the door. “I know.”

Mom had gone from being a little obsessed to borderline freaky. She went into work to set up her schedule and then to stop to talk to the real estate agent about the junk in the house and the keys. She’d shown more interest in the keys than anything else, getting seriously angry when the real estate agent refused to come out to the house. He’d spent fifteen minutes on the phone with her, citing several important appointments which could not be missed. No matter how much she yelled, he wouldn’t budge.

Mom had muttered some choice words about his work ethic. In the end she decided to wait and get the keys for the extra rooms and talk to him about the junk upstairs when she had to go into work for her first day.

“I have to tell you, Sis, as far as I’m concerned, school can’t start soon enough. At least then we won’t be trapped in this place.”

As if she’d heard us talking, Mom’s voice echoed upstairs. “Grant! Claire! Great news!”

With a half-smile, I clapped Grant on the back. “Me too.”

***

Mom walked into the living room, brandishing an old skeleton key over her head like a wand. “Tada! Come on, we’re checking out those back rooms.”

She didn’t give us time to answer, just continued down the hallway. Grant and I followed, exchanging a glance. When we didn’t move fast enough, she called our names again. Once we were within sight, she slid the key in and twisted, throwing the door open dramatically. Cold air blew thin fingers through my hair, stale odors of damp and yellowed paper sticking inside my nose.

She stepped back, clapping her hands. “Look at it.”

“I’m not seeing what you are,” I said. “It’s a ton of junk we have to get rid of and clean up.”

“This is history. Someone’s life in these old papers and boxes,” Mom scolded, moving into the room. For a second, her eyes seemed to change. They darkened, the color almost black. I blinked, and the effect was gone. I shook my head. Too much paranoia.

Phantom fingers brushed down my spine and I lurched forward, farther into the room. When I glanced behind me, Grant’s face was white, jaw clenched tight.

He saw me staring and took a heavy step forward, his eyes narrowed on Mom’s shoulders. He released a long breath, and I turned my attention to where he was looking.

Mom stood in front of the desk, already flipping through a stack of brittle papers. The cold back here brought goose bumps to my arms and I resisted the urge to hug myself. Something watched us back here. There was an uncomfortable itch between my shoulder blades. Whatever was here knew I felt it, and it enjoyed my discomfort.

Beside me, Grant made a small grunt and spun. Mom looked up with a frown. “What is the matter, Grant?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes down. “Spider, I think.”

“We can’t possibly tackle this before school starts.” I wanted out of here, and I knew Grant did as well. “The first day is tomorrow, and Grant and I still have to sort through the box of school supplies tonight.”

Mom ran her hands over the edge of a dusty, deteriorating box. “I know.” Her voice was wistful. “But I can get started on this tomorrow while you’re at school. I’m going to be working the night shifts at the factory, so I’ll do it during the day in my free time.”

“What did the real estate guy say about it? Are we supposed to be saving it for someone?” Grant sounded like it hurt to spit the words out.

“It’s ours,” Mom hissed. Her fist slammed on the box top, dislodging a puff of dust. There was a hungry, violent edge to the glare she shot the two of us.

Silence followed the comment, tension arcing in the air between us. Grant and I had identical expressions of confusion. Mom straightened, ran a hand over her hair and cleared her throat. “Sorry. Just a little stressed. No one wanted this stuff, and it’s such a shame. He said the former owners want nothing left here. All this history left to be forgotten.”

I raised my hands. “Okay. Got it. But Mom, what are we going to do with it?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said, rearranging a bunch of papers scattered over one box. Her fingers neatly aligned all the pages into a stack before caressing the top pages. “Maybe we can collect them, document everything, and give it to the local historical society.”

“Do we even have one of those?” Grant asked.

“Of course! Every town has one. We’ll have to find out who’s in charge here.”

“Can we eat now? I’m starved, and Claire and I have tons of things to do.” Grant blurted.

Mom jerked her thumb over one shoulder to the kitchen. “The last take-out meal of the week has arrived. We’re having subs.”

Grant turned and nearly sprinted down the hall to the kitchen. I took a few steps without turning, afraid to turn my back on the room. While Mom may have been comfortable, I couldn’t say the same. Tension coiled in the air, lessening the farther away I got.

Pausing at the door, I was torn between the need to distance myself, and the feeling that I shouldn’t leave Mom alone. I couldn’t forget the strange look on her face, and the way her face had seemed to shift a little. Like something else looked out through her eyes.

Goosebumps marched across my arms at the thought. Grant called my name and I took the easy way and headed for the kitchen. After only a few steps down the hall, I glanced back and my heart nearly stopped. Mom stood, a faded paper in one hand, engrossed in what she read. Behind her, one hand resting on her shoulder, hovered a tall black shadow of a man.

Chapter Eight

My heart pounded, and my voice shook as I called for Mom. She turned, and the dark shape dissolved. Another person would have chalked it up to hallucination. Too little sleep. Anything except what I knew was the truth. An entity had touched my mother.

Her eyes were glazed, and she seemed only half-aware of me. “What’s the matter, Claire?”

‘Mom, didn’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Her attention focused on me, though there was still a faraway look in her gaze.

“There was someone behind you. A ghost. Touching you. How did you not feel it?”

She came out and wrapped me in a hug, still holding a paper. “Honey, are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t make it up, Mom.”

She pulled back and stared down at me, but there was a strange mix of fear and sympathy in her eyes. “I didn’t feel a thing, Claire. It’s been a long day, and that room is full of all kinds of strange piles. Are you sure that it wasn’t just a shadow?” She paused, and a strange smile twisted her lips. “It has been a few months since you spoke to the doctor. Maybe I should make an appointment for you.”

The thought of having to spend more time on drugs and talking to psychiatrists who didn’t believe me made my blood run cold. Why she would bring that up and brush off my concerns, I didn’t understand.

“No, maybe it was just the boxes. I’m feeling fine. Really.”

“You sure?” Again, between one heartbeat and the next, I thought her eye color darkened. But I blinked and the impression was gone.

I pressed a hand to my forehead. “There’s just a lot going on. Old house, dusty corners. I’m just letting my imagination run away with me.” I pasted on a smile, then grabbed her hand and tugged. “Let’s get something to eat. If you get started in there, we’ll never get you out.”

“Oh. Yes.” She peered down at the paper in her hand and blinked as if seeing it for the first time. “Yes. Dinner. I should come.”

I took two more steps closer and stopped. A presence hung in the air, and I could sense its frustration and anger writhing in the air around us. A shudder moved down my spine. Mom stood for a few more seconds, then blinked at me and smiled faintly.

“Sorry. I get so distracted sometimes. This house makes me feel, I don’t know…more alive somehow. Like I’ve come home to a place I didn’t even know I missed.”

When she finally moved close, I reached out and slid my arm through hers. “That’s great, but you need to eat.”

She laughed and patted my hand. I flinched, but she didn’t notice. She also didn’t seem aware her flesh was cold as ice. We walked closer to the slice of light that warmed the floor of the hall outside the kitchen, and Mom jerked. Her head turned as though she’d heard footsteps behind us.

“You know, the two of you can get started without me. It’ll only take me a minute to finish reading through those papers.”

She started to pull away, but I held fast. “No way. You’ll go in there and you won’t come out for hours.” If you come out at all, I wanted to say.

The atmosphere changed for a moment, and Mom turned back to me, her smile gone. Instead, she studied me like a scientist studies a bug. “Why the hurry? You’ve never been so concerned about my eating before.”

“You’ve never been so obsessed before. You’ll have plenty of time to sit in the middle of the boxes of junk, read, and organize to your heart’s content. But before you get into it, Grant and I would like to have dinner with you. After all, if you’re working night shift, we won’t get to see much of you during the week.”

Her face immediately lost the cool, calculating look and guilt moved across her features. Maybe I should have felt guilty, but as long as it got her away from whatever wanted her in the room, I didn’t care. The longer I postponed it, the more time I had to think of a way to keep her away permanently.

Mom shuffled into the kitchen ahead of me, and I paused, then stared back down the dim hallway. The figure stood in the doorway of the back room, anger seething around it like a tangible thing.

She’s not a plaything. Whatever it is you’re trying to do, stop. I thought the words, willing the thing back there to hear me as my anger rose.

The figure stepped back, the shadowy form dissolving again into the darkness of the room. Yet the anger didn’t leave. I pushed a hand through my hair. Anger I could deal with. Between the three of us, we had plenty of practice handling that.

***

Everyone was asleep by midnight. Mom had gone to bed early, holding her head and complaining of a headache. While I didn’t want her to hurt, I was glad she didn’t go back to the room downstairs.

I slid my feet into slippers and crossed my arms, as if doing so gave me some sort of extra protection. Taking each step carefully, I eased my way downstairs, then moved to stand in the center of the hallway facing the back room.

“I said this before, but apparently you need to hear it again. We aren’t going anywhere. Getting pissy about it isn’t going to change anything. Leave my family alone. All we’ve done is come in and clean up this wreck. It’s a home now.”

As I stood there, the temperature dropped and a breeze ruffled my hair. It stopped, and a low, menacing growl rumbled the floorboards under my feet. My heart leapt to my throat, but I tried to keep my bravado going and stomped one foot.

“Stop it. You’ve seen what we’ve done already. This place was in bad repair. We’ve fixed it. Is that really so bad?”

The sound stopped; the temperature warmed a few degrees. The silence became thick and heavy. I nodded once. “All right, then.”

Turning around, I made my way upstairs only to find Grant sitting on the top step.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I looked away. “Nothing.”

“I don’t think it liked whatever you said.” Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his hair stuck out in all directions.

Taking a seat next to him, I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll help. Why are you awake anyway?

He yawned. “I thought you were Mom, and I was coming out to head her off before she got back into that room. Something down there is not right. And it wants her.”

“You saw it?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Fear shivered in Grant’s eyes, even in the dark. “Saw what?”

“There was a presence there earlier.”

“No,” he said. “I didn’t see anything. I just didn’t like the way it felt back there.”

I slid an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. When he didn’t pull away, I realized how freaked out he was. “Listen, Grant, it’ll be all right. Things don’t look good for now, but it will turn around.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie to me or feed me optimistic bull. You’re worried, and it scares the shit out of me. So do my dreams, honestly.”

“Dreams?”

“Horrible nightmares I can’t seem to shake. A lot of death and blood and dark things I don’t want to think about.”

Helplessness overwhelmed me, and I hugged him. “I’m sorry. What can I do to help?”

“Just don’t—” He stopped and blew out a long breath. “Don’t lie to me. Give me honest answers when I ask you questions. Mom and Dad and everyone else have done enough of it. You’re the only one who hasn’t. I feel like it’s you and me against everyone else.”

Tears burned my eyes and I blinked them back, grateful he couldn’t see them in the darkness. “Deal.”

He stretched, then rose. “I think it’s time to try and get back to bed. School starts tomorrow.” We headed back to our respective rooms, and Grant chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Never in my life have I been so happy to say those words.”

***

Mom dropped us off in front of Ocean Lakes High School with a smile and a wave. Grant leapt out of the car. I hung back, my thumbs hooked in the straps of the book bag, staring up at the brick building. Memories of other hallways and the whispers and stinging comments welled up. Nervous butterflies fluttered in my gut.

“Hello!” Bryan waved, looping a huge camera around his neck as he hurried across the wide expanse of cement sidewalk to us. A few people gave us a curious once-over and moved on.

“Hey, Bryan.” I tried to keep my tone upbeat. Right now, I wanted to blend in. With one finger, I motioned to the digital camera. “What’s all this?”

“I’m on the newspaper and yearbook staff. The more photos we have, the better, right?”

I nodded and allowed him to lead the way into the building. As he chattered about the student body and various club activities he knew I’d love, I slipped my class schedule from my pocket.

“Hello again.” A deep voice sounded behind me, and I suppressed a shiver. The boy from the grocery store. He stretched out a hand when I turned. “Haven Elliott. We met the other day.”

“I remember,” I said and pumped his hand up and down. “Nice to see you again.”

Haven’s glance grew glacial as he turned to Bryan. “Nice to see you too, Bryan.”

Bryan’s smile faded a little. “Always a pleasure, Haven.”

They both looked like they’d rather chew nails than talk to each other. Bryan looked back at me and the schedule in my hand. “So, what classes have you got?”

I handed him my schedule to look at. Haven shifted his book bag on his shoulders, his gaze moving to the clock. “Maybe I’ll see you later, Claire. I hope you like Ocean Lakes.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. “Me too.”

Bryan handed back my schedule. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve got a couple classes together.”

Forcing a smile, I glanced at the first room number, then folded it and stuck it in my pocket. “Of course not. But you and Haven don’t seem to get along well.”

Bryan shrugged. “We’ve known each other a long time. Nothing big.”

“Oh.”

He waved to someone across the hall, then flashed me a wide grin. “I’ll see you in class, all right? I don’t want to cramp your style on your first day of school.”

I laughed. “Cramp my style? What style?”

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh, you’ve definitely got style. In all the good ways.”

Grant snickered on my left and I elbowed him. He pretended to rub his side and then pulled out his schedule. “All right, Sis. See you later. Don’t want to cramp your style by hanging around too long.”

“Wait for it, dude. You’re going to get a girlfriend and all the comments are going to come back to haunt you.”

He grinned. “Whatever. I’m not the one with admirers.” Grant crumpled his schedule in his hands and waved as he headed down a side hallway.

I entered the room and took a seat in the back. No need to draw more attention than I already did. Maybe if I kept a low profile, I could stay under the radar after the initial curiosity wore off. Maybe this time school would be different.

Maybe.

Chapter Nine

Being the new kid, I got many stares, and I tensed each time someone glanced at me. But when I searched their faces for signs of disgust or judgment, to my relief, they only seemed to be curious.

Little by little, I relaxed. The first day is the same no matter where you are. Long, boring, and full of roll calls, seating charts, class expectations, and book assignments. Mind-numbing tasks, mostly. It was easier than I anticipated to be there, in the middle of so many people again. With all their energy pressing in, I was managing better than I thought I might have. It was like traveling up a mountain and feeling the pressure change, but being unable to pop your ears. Just short of being painful, but enough to make your skin crawl if you thought too much about it.

But by third bell, I itched to get out of my seat and get out of the building. My book bag bulged with papers and new books. Things had gone relatively well, and then I walked into my government room. Haven sat in a back corner, politely nodding to something a girl in front of him was talking about.

He caught my eye when I walked in and smiled. A thrill shot through my belly. I pulled my gaze away and picked a seat in the next row. Maybe not the most subtle of moves.

“Hello again.” Haven said.

I propped my book bag up against the side of the desk. “Hey. I hope it’s all right I sit next to you?”

Haven nodded. “Definitely.”

The girl in front of Haven gave me a once over and turned away to talk to a friend. Haven didn’t seem to notice that no one else really spoke to him, beyond a few polite “hellos.” They seemed to avoid even looking too closely at him.

Just before the bell rang, Bryan flew through the door and made his way down the rows of seats to sit on my other side. He leaned over and smiled. “Hey. How’s the day going so far?”

“Good, thanks.” I was saved from any further small talk by our teacher starting class. Bryan meant well, I thought, but he made me uncomfortable. He just seemed too interested too fast. I wasn’t sure why.

Mr. Larsen took a stack of books from the shelf next to his desk and proceeded to pull each of us up one at a time to sign out a textbook. The class erupted into murmured conversations, and I released a long breath.

“So what do you think of Ocean Lakes so far?” Haven asked. He flashed a smile. “Hopefully it hasn’t been too hard being the new girl.”

“You make us sound awful,” Bryan said, shooting Haven a glare.

Haven didn’t respond, but his expression turned icy.

“It’s been okay so far,” I answered. I could have cut the air between them with a knife, though I didn’t understand the animosity.

“Good. Maybe it will stay that way.” Haven said.

Bryan’s voice was like poison. “If you keep hanging out with Haven, no one will bother you. Trust me.”

Irritation flared in my gut. So much for staying under the radar. “Seriously? I don’t know what you two have going on, but you can keep me out of it.”

They both looked away, and Bryan’s face flushed. Offering me a crooked smile, he shrugged. “We have been a bit annoying. Sorry.”

He seemed sincere, but at the same time his very changeable nature made me shiver. Until now, he’d been so polite. A little overly friendly, maybe. I glanced at Haven, who watched Bryan with what looked like concern. The idea unsettled me.

Both of them were strange. Bryan was a nice enough guy. But everyone knew him and spoke to him. They seemed to like him, or at least put up with him. But Haven…the girl in front of him turned around to pass a paper back. When Haven’s hand accidentally brushed hers, she jumped and something that looked like repulsion passed over her face.

The boy sitting on his other side had said hello earlier. But it wasn’t friendly. It was cold. Empty. A polite gesture that he had to do because it was a small town and appearances must be kept.

The contradictions fascinated me. Everyone was polite to him, they spoke to him and smiled, but beneath those bland gazes, there were other things. Fear, disgust, and even a little distrust. What could he have possibly done to deserve that?

I didn’t know anyone well enough to ask questions. And I doubted whether anyone would give me the whole, unbiased truth. I didn’t need to look for trouble anyway. We had enough problems at home.

I leaned my head on the desk and sighed. I didn’t need this. It was bad enough to be at school, to feel the weight of so many minds and dreams again. I’d almost forgotten what that burden felt like. The weight of souls pressing against one another.

The first assignment, a mini essay about a current event, finally made it back to me. It was a relief to focus on anything else. I didn’t have to try to make small talk with either of them for the moment. Mr. Larsen called me up to get a book and I slid out of my seat. Just make it another fifteen minutes and then you can go to lunch.

Lunch. A whole other social problem. I was the new kid, on the first day of school. I doubted Grant would sit with me. The best I could hope for was an empty table somewhere.

As I headed back to my seat, thick Government book clutched to my chest, I studied the two boys on either side of me. This would be a long school year if they kept it up. However, I didn’t have to worry about trying to make conversation. We worked on the mini essay and then Mr. Larsen stood and gave us a reading assignment due the next class. I scribbled it down in my planner. The bell rang as I finished, and I took my time loading my book bag. Haven glanced at me, pointing to the door and raising an eyebrow. “Coming?”

“I’ll be there. You go ahead.”

Haven paused, his face flushing. “Look, if you want, come sit with me at lunch.”

“Thanks,” I told him. “I really appreciate that.”

He nodded and headed out of class. I noticed the two girls who left after him gave him wide berth. Beside me, Bryan cleared his throat. “I hope you’re not developing a soft spot for Haven.”

With an unladylike grunt, I hefted the over-filled bag over one shoulder. “Bryan, there is no reason why I can’t be nice to people.”

“I know I’ve probably screwed things up, but there are things you don’t know about him.”

I stopped in the doorway and glared over my shoulder. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about you.” Without giving him time to argue, I headed out the door, waving a hand over my shoulder. “See you later.”

I made a beeline for the girls’ bathroom. Neither of them would follow me there, and I needed a few minutes alone. Being in the midst of so many people drained me. I’d forgotten what it was like to be a high school student. I spent the last half of my previous high school year in tutoring with doctors, psychiatrists, and my parents watching my every move. All because of one mistake. One huge mistake. Even though I guarded against it now, the weight of their thoughts and dreams and energy gripped me

The important thing, and the thought which made me happiest, was that I’d controlled myself. With very little thought or effort, I had kept things together. Before I got to school, I couldn’t admit how scared I’d been I wouldn’t be able to do it. But I had, and my confidence soared.

I dropped my book bag on the floor, used the bathroom, and washed my hands. I checked my hair, my cell phone, and after a few more minutes had passed, I had no other reason to avoid the crowded cafeteria. So I hauled the book bag on my back again and headed toward the smell of food and the loud, raucous noise of the lunchroom.

When I walked in, the long tables were mostly full. Only a few small round tables, set off to the side, remained open. A group of pastel-clad, overly perky girls I assumed would be cheerleaders and the popular crowd filled one. Another, set even farther apart and almost shoved in a corner, was empty except for Haven.

After everything this morning, I knew sitting there would be a poor social choice. But I moved across the lunchroom and stopped in front of the chair across from him.

“Can I still sit with you?”

“Sure,” he waved me to the chair next to him, but no smile crossed his lips. “I have to warn you though, sitting with me is sort of like joining a leper colony.”

I slid another chair out and put my book bag on it, pulling my lunch bag from a side pocket. “Well, if I’m going to do something, I’m not going to do it by halves. You don’t seem like the ax-murderer type to me.” I resisted a frown when he stiffened. “Or are you?”

“No.” He relaxed, sitting back in his chair. “No, not an ax murderer.”

I unwrapped my sandwich and tilted my head. “Poison, then? No, wait, you seem like a ‘lead-pipe-in-the-library’ kind of guy.”

To my surprise he laughed, and amusement broke across his face. “That’s it. You’ve learned my deep, dark secret.”

“I knew it. I pride myself on my uncanny mental powers.”

He saluted me with his soda, and we fell into an easy conversation about the school and our classes.

A few minutes later, Grant fell into the chair next to Haven. He stuck out one hand. “Hi. I’m Grant.”

“I remember.” Haven shook the hand my brother offered. “Haven.”

“Are you okay?” I asked. Grant looked like he’d been run over by a bus.

He slouched farther into his seat. “My last class nearly killed me.”

“Who was it?” Haven balled up his trash, chucking it into the large trashcan sitting ten feet away.

“Mrs. Malone, for Biology.”

Haven nodded. “Sorry to tell you, but it doesn’t get better.”

Grant groaned and slapped a hand across his face. “I knew you would say that.”

“How are the other classes?” I finished the last piece of brownie and gathered my trash together.

His response began to fade into the background as I looked up, my eyes straying to a pale, gaunt figure walking past the cafeteria windows across from us. They were floor to ceiling, and showed the man clearly. At first, I thought he was a janitor. He wore blue denim pants and a blue button-up shirt. Light brown hair stuck in messy clumps around a thin face with a scraggly goatee. When my gaze hit his knees and the pant legs thinned and faded into nothing, my stomach dropped. The ghost turned, as if he suddenly realized I saw him, and his mouth opened into a preternaturally wide scream.

“Hey!” Grant waved a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Claire! What’s wrong with you?” He turned, following my gaze and then raised an eyebrow, concern slipping into his tone. “Claire? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just zoned out for a moment.”

Haven’s brow furrowed and he glanced back as well. When he turned around, he stared at me. One finger rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Do that often?”

“Sorry. Just sleepy. All that moving and new place and all that.” I laughed a little too brightly. “What did you ask me?”

“I asked how your classes were going.” Grant said.

“They’re all right. But it’s only the first day.”

I slipped out of the chair and threw away my garbage. Haven’s speculative look unnerved me. This time, things were going to be different. I was determined.

When I sat back down, Grant leaned over. “What I really want to know is what you’ve done to piss off Bryan.”

I made a face. “He thinks I need his advice about who to hang out with.”

Haven sighed. “In his defense, I’ve got a reputation.”

“For what?”

He paused. “It’s better you find that out on your own.”

Grant grinned and looked at Haven. “Dude, I’m totally on your team.”

Haven’s lips twitched. “Thanks. You two have tripled the size of my ‘team’ in one day.”

The bell rang and Grant got to his feet. “We’re usually on the underdog’s side.”

“How does the underdog usually come out, in your experience?” Haven asked.

Grant’s gaze flicked to mine. “Jury’s still out.”

Chapter Ten

Friday morning, our second week of school, I stood in the hallway with Bryan. Because I’d gotten confused the first couple of days, he decided I was incapable of remembering anything about navigating high school. I’d joked about it the first three days, but now it irritated me.

As Bryan asked me about where I’d be after my last class, my temper snapped.

“I’m not an idiot, Bryan. You know where I’ll be, and so do I. Now leave me alone and let me get to class.”

I stormed off, pleased at the way his mouth dropped into an astonished “O.”

The pleasure at surprising him faded into guilt as I took my seat in English.

Haven sat on the other side of the room. I couldn’t really escape him in a school this small. We pulled out our books, and I bit my lip. Truth was, I had a huge crush on him. Not that I’d admit it out loud. He didn’t seem interested in more than friendship, and I wasn’t going to make the first move. I focused on the assignment Mrs. Hamilton discussed at the front of the room. A creative writing activity, based on a field trip we’d take at the beginning of next week. Permission slips came down the rows, and I stared at the location.

Riverview Cemetery.

“Cemetery?” I gaped.

The girl in front of me rolled her eyes and slid the paper in her binder. “She takes a group every year, though the assignment changes each time. Mrs. Hamilton’s got a morbid side to her.”

At least most graveyards didn’t have ghosts. Given the choice, a spirit was more likely to hang around their house or some other place of strong emotion. Cemeteries didn’t hold such connections for most of them. I hoped this would be a quiet one. I’d spent the last two weeks keeping an eye out for the ghost I’d seen in the hall. So far, he had only made one other brief appearance.

For the rest of class, Mrs. Hamilton gave us a preliminary creative writing exercise. We had to take an event from our summer vacation and retell it as a flash fiction story, with a bit of embellishment. An educational form of the “two truths and a lie” icebreaker.

My pen hovered over my paper. A smile I couldn’t contain slipped out. I had quite a few topics I could choose from. Should I write about my parents’ divorce? The blond who had more plastic than Mattel and aspirations to be our stepmother? We lived in a seriously creepy haunted house that gave my brother nightmares and growled at me. How would I write that one down?

I picked the move. Toned it down so most of my story was pure fiction, but it sounded mundane enough to be reality. When I finished, I slouched back in my chair and read it over. Sometimes I wished my reality were more like the story.

I switched with the guy beside me, marked two spelling mistakes and a comma error and proceeded to doodle on my notebook while he finished. He hovered over my paper with a pen, intent. After a few minutes, he scribbled a couple words at the bottom and handed it back with a smile.

“Nice.”

I mumbled something inane and handed his back as well. Mrs. Hamilton had us pass up papers, and then the bell rang. Haven caught my eye as I slung my book-bag over my shoulder. The speculative look was back on his face, and I wondered what he thought he saw.

“See you later, Claire.” He said, and headed for the door.

I mumbled something non-committal as I waited for the other people in front of me to slide out of the row of desks. Grant lounged against the wall outside, his head bent and dark circles around his eyes. The frown that seemed to have become a permanent part of his face was deeper than normal. Grant was struggling with the social aspects of high school. Usually that was my job, but our roles had reversed this time around. I wished I knew how to help him, but I preferred the loner role. Grant was a social creature.

“Did you have as much fun as me today?” he asked.

“Doubt it. You look like a barrel of laughs.”

One side of his mouth rose. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m the life of the party.”

I snorted and we headed for the front doors. Mom’s car wasn’t at the curb. A glance at my watch confirmed we were running late. Only a few more minutes and the buses would leave.

“She’s not coming.” Grant’s voice was flat.

“Think positive.”

“All right. I’m positive she’s not coming.”

I glanced at my watch once more, then back at the buses. With a groan, I snagged Grant’s elbow and we sprinted to our bus, jumping on right before the engine roared to life. It wasn’t crowded. Most kids caught rides or stayed after for an activity.

Grant slouched against the green pleather seat and turned his head to stare out the window.

“You know how Mom gets with her projects. She probably lost track of time.” Even as I said it, I wiped sweaty palms on my jeans and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. I’m not even sure why I bothered trying to defend her.

He didn’t even turn to look at me. “Let’s face it, Claire. Mom’s so devoted to making the house into her dream home, she forgot to get us.”

I wanted to protest, but knew when we got home she’d be in the back rooms. And thirty minutes later, after we’d trudged up the driveway when the bus dropped us off, I discovered I was right.

“Mom?” Grant yelled. He flung his book bag into the corner of the foyer so hard a picture bounced and nearly shot off the wall.

There was rustling, and then her head appeared around the corner of the door in the back room. Her hair was bound with a red handkerchief, and dirt smudged her cheeks.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry guys. I got caught up in what I was doing and lost track of time. You won’t believe what I’ve found in here. Come and see!”

Grant snorted. “Like hell.”

She frowned at him, but he was around the corner and upstairs before she lodged a real protest. My throat ached with the effort of keeping my own angry words in.

“Aren’t you leaving for work soon?”

Panic flickered and she leapt to her feet. “What time is it?”

“Almost four.”

She ran past me upstairs, cursing under her breath. At least the house didn’t seem able to keep her from remembering all her duties. Only the ones involving Grant and me. Bitterness brought tears to my eyes, but I shoved the emotion aside.

I headed up to my room, dropping my book bag next to the desk. Dull, repetitious bass thumped through the wall between Grant’s room and mine. Loud angry music and a shut door. Universal signs he was pissed at Mom.

In another world, she’d have gone and nagged him through the door until he opened it and they talked about whatever was wrong.

That was then, and this was now.

I wasn’t going to stand at his door. Instead, I’d opt for the more subtle way to Grant’s heart—food.

As I left my room, I paused. The temperature dropped, and I turned my head toward the tower library. The door was open, and inside, the wheelchair that had freaked me out sat in the center of the room, the empty, cracked seat facing the door. When my eyes rested on it, the wheels squeaked forward a few inches.

My heart leapt in my throat. The cold latched on to my skin, freezing me to the spot. I didn’t want to see anything. Willed myself not to, but it was too late for that. A bit of darkness broke off from the shadows at the back of the room. The shape flickered and bent like light through water. An old movie screen version of a small girl with pinafore and ringlets bounced up behind the chair, until just her eyes were visible over the back.

Dark, black orbs that glinted despite the foggy quality of the ghost. A high-pitched giggle echoed around me and the hair on my nape rose. The small face rose behind the chair, a smile plumping cherub cheeks before her lips parted and revealed needle-like teeth. I shrieked, and the door to the room slammed shut.

Mom’s head popped out of her room. “What happened?”

“I—” The words didn’t want to come out of my mouth.

Mom’s brow furrowed and she took in the closed door. Her mouth curled at the corners like she enjoyed a private joke. “You must have seen the doll I found in there earlier. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Doll?” I croaked.

She walked out, pulling a bathrobe around her tighter. She moved past me, and curled her fingers around the door handle.

“You don’t need to open it.” I said.

“Yes I do. You need to see there’s nothing there. Really, Claire, you’re beginning to worry me.”

She pushed open the door, and the chair sat where it was before, only this time a dirt-speckled porcelain doll sat in the seat. The eyes were open, a cloudy blue glass that matched the blue dress and pinafore. Minus the black eyes and teeth, it was the image of the little girl.

Except it hadn’t been there before.

“See? Nothing but a doll. It’s just precious, isn’t it?” Her fingers stroked a line down the curve of the cheek.

“Not quite what I’d call it.” I mumbled.

She shot me a sharp look, and I didn’t understand the hostility in her eyes. Again, the feeling that someone else was looking at me moved over me like a wet blanket.

“I’m sorry?”

I shook my head, backing out of the room. “Nothing. That must’ve been it. Just scared me I guess. I’m going to make dinner now. You better finish getting dressed.”

I forced myself not to bolt downstairs, instead walking at a normal speed and ignoring the itch between my shoulder blades. As I hit the bottom of the stairs, I thought I heard Mom chuckle before her door closed again.

I leaned against the doorjamb of the kitchen and let my body warm as the temperature rose again. I focused on breathing. A creepy ghost kid is bad enough. But those teeth…goose bumps flowed down my arms again. That was nowhere close to a good thing. The heavy bass thumping changed to a slower beat and I closed my eyes, letting out a long breath. At least Grant hadn’t seen it. His music had covered my scream. I had to get it together. If Grant came down and saw me freaked out, he’d want an explanation. He was already having nightmares, and this wouldn’t help.

With a sigh, I headed into the kitchen. I pulled some hamburger from the fridge and set about making burgers. Doing something normal made the supernatural stuff around me more bearable. About the time I had them sizzling in a pan and started arranging the toppings and buns on the counter, I heard Mom tear downstairs.

“Bye, sweetie. I’ll be back around four-thirty. Get some sleep, and try to get your brother in bed at a decent time. If you need me, my cell is on, or you can call the factory. The number is on the pad next to the phone.”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek, pulled an insulated lunch box from the fridge, and threw her purse over her shoulder. She paused in the doorway, patting her pockets for her keys. When she found them, she tossed a smile over one shoulder and hurried out the door.

The change in behavior confused me. There was no hint that she’d even talked to me upstairs. Grant waited a total of two minutes after the front door closed to come downstairs.

“You don’t need to make sure I get into bed. I’m old enough to manage on my own,” he grumbled.

I pulled the lid off the hamburgers and flipped off the gas. “Good. Because I didn’t intend to chase you around like a two-year-old.”

***

Grant and I tossed a coin for dinner clean up. It must have been fate, because as my side popped up, someone knocked on the front door.

“Two out of three?” Grant begged.

I shook my head. “No way. You lost.”

I was still grinning when I opened the door to find a very somber Bryan standing on the porch.

“Hey, Claire.”

“Hi.” I stepped onto the porch, knowing Grant was already in a foul mood. Bringing Bryan inside would not improve it. “What’s up?”

“I want to apologize for earlier. And I’ve got some news, but I don’t quite know what to do about it.”

“Apology accepted.” Unease coiled into a tight knot in my gut. “What kind of news?”

His expression was hard to read in the growing twilight. Shifting from one foot to the other, he couldn’t seem to find the words to start. Dread made my stomach turn. My pulse skyrocketed while my hands shook. I clenched my fingers into fists. “What’s wrong?”

He stopped, his hands cupping my shoulders. “I know you probably think I’m a stalker.”

I could feel my face flush. “That’s not true,” I stammered. “Just a little overzealous maybe.”

His smile was lopsided. “Thanks, but you aren’t saying anything I haven’t heard before. I like you, and I’ve come on too strong. I am sorry, and I hope someday you will be able to look past that.”

I felt lower than dirt. “Sure, Bryan. You’re just a little intense. I’m not used to it.”

He paused again, letting go of my shoulders. “That’s not why I came over tonight, but I wanted to apologize first, so maybe you won’t blow me off now.” He took a deep breath. “You seem to be getting really interested in Haven. Have you found out about his special…talents?”

“Talents?”

“He’s psychic,” he said. “Sees the future. Freaky stuff.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah, okay. Pull the other leg.”

“I’m not kidding. He’s not safe, Claire.”

I was offended for him. “This is a ridiculous conversation.”

He shook his head. “Don’t blow me off. I have proof.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you’re jealous. This is a crappy way to try and get my attention.” I wanted to cover my ears and run back inside.

Bryan’s face alternated between sympathy and anger. “I actually believe in psychics and the supernatural. Intensely. I’m part of a paranormal research team around here. And for the record, I am jealous. But that’s not why I’m here.”

He was a ghost hunter? I wasn’t sure if I should be more worried or amused. I raised an eyebrow. “Not the only reason?”

“Not the only reason, anyway.” He shook his head. “Haven is different. But you aren’t going to listen to me.”

“Bryan—”

He held up one finger. “Haven is a social outcast, you know. With no chance of getting back into normal society. Being friends with him will only make you an outcast.”

“Who I hang out with is my own business, Bryan. And you’re one to talk. You accuse him of all kinds of things, and then tell me you’re a ghost hunter. You really expect me to take you seriously after that? Being psychic is not a crime.”

Bryan stepped forward. “Sometimes it is. The police investigated him five or six years ago, you know. After the new girl in school went missing and wound up dead.”

Ice rushed through my blood stream. “What?”

A smug smile curled over his face. “He didn’t mention it? He was seen at a party getting into an argument with her. She went missing the same night. First everyone blamed it on him, then on your house, then on her wild-child ways.”

“My house?” I pushed at his chest. “What has it got to do with the house?”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s what you’re focused on?”

“Answer my question.”

“She lived here. They moved right after they buried her. Couldn’t stand to be so close to the boy who killed her.”

“You say it like you think he did. You live pretty close too, you know.”

Bryan’s hand closed over my wrist, hard. I winced, and he relaxed his grip. But only a bit. “You don’t know anything about us. Don’t ever compare me to my cousin.”

“He’s your cousin?” I stared.

“Yes. And I know him better than you think I do.”

“I know enough about both of you,” I said. “And what I know about you isn’t turning out to be very flattering.” With a tug, I yanked my hand out of his grasp. “Now leave me alone. I’ve got things to do.”

“You’ll live to regret this.”

I recoiled. “Are you threatening me?”

He blinked. For a second, he almost sounded like someone else. “Of course not. I’m trying to be a good friend and give you fair warning.”

“Get the hell off my porch, Bryan. You are not my friend.”

He turned away and marched down the porch, his face flushed red, chest heaving with the effort to control himself. I wondered how often he lost the battle. My knees turned to jelly and I sat down hard on the front steps. My hands shook with delayed adrenaline. I wrapped my arms across my chest, the conversation playing again in my head.

He disappeared around the corner of the house and into the darkening woods. After a few minutes, I heard the screen door open and close as Grant emerged and sat down beside me.

“You okay?”

“How much of that did you hear?”

He shrugged. “He wasn’t exactly quiet.”

“Great.” I dropped my forehead to my knees.

“You’re scared of him.” My brother slid a hand over my shoulder and tugged me back into a sitting position. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes. No.” I inhaled deep and released it in a steady stream. “I don’t know. He’s so intense one minute and then the next it’s gone. Maybe I’m imagining things.”

Grant snorted. “That’s what he does. Confuse people. There’s a reason everyone gives in to Bryan. He’s hiding something.”

“They give in to him because his parents own half the town. Any secrets are irrelevant. He’s got money and enough friends to make him invincible. Unlike you or I. Outside of that, I don’t know what to think of him. Every time I make up my mind, he does something off.”

“What about reading his mind?”

“I’m tempted, I admit. But it doesn’t always work. And what if it overwhelms me?” My stomach twisted. “Worse, what if I don’t like what I find?”

Grant stared out into the darkening twilight. “Better to know it now, rather than later, don’t you think?”

I shrugged.

“Try from a distance. Maybe the separation will make it easier.”

I wanted to protest, but he had a point. I was home, should the worst happen. For the last year, I’d hidden from myself. Now was as good a time as any to try again. After a few deep breaths, I opened my mind and stretched, searching for Bryan. In my mind’s eye, each person appeared as a point of bright light. For a second, I was startled to see the house had a strange glow about it as well. It pulsed, a strange greenish glow like a half-spent glow stick. I didn’t touch it, afraid of what I would find. The girl earlier had been enough of the house for one night. Instead, I pushed it aside to examine later and reached out for the fading light that was Bryan. He was little more than a whisper now, and growing fainter. There was less emotion than I thought. Disappointment, frustration, and a running diatribe about girls being corrupted by Haven’s charms. A few more seconds, and he faded from my range completely.

“Well?” Grant asked.

I blinked until he came back into focus and I was certain the shutters were back down on my senses. “Nothing. Some ranting words. Not much emotion.”

“See?” Grant spread his hands. “He’s a psychopath. I rest my case.”

“Or he has a natural block.” I rolled my eyes at Grant’s dramatics. “Some people can keep me out. Just because you don’t like him, it doesn’t make him a serial killer.”

“Close enough,” he muttered.

I stood. “Let’s go in. There’s a brownie with my name on it.”

Grant brushed off his pants. “If he touches you again, I’m going to open a can of whoop-ass on him.”

Warmth spread through me, and tears burned my eyes for a moment. “Thanks. But it isn’t going to happen again. Besides, he’s got about three inches and sixty pounds on you.”

“Still.”

I hugged him. “You’re pretty awesome for being such a butthead, you know.”

He grinned and pretended to polish his nails on his shirt. “Yeah, I know.”

Chapter Eleven

Haven waited for me outside the school the next morning. Concern wrinkled his forehead as he snagged my elbow and pulled me to the side. I motioned Grant on, and he nodded after waving a greeting to Haven. For whatever reason, my brother really approved of him.

“Are you okay?”

Confused, I tilted my head. “What? Why?”

He glanced around us. It was early, so there weren’t too many people at school yet. Even so, as one of the few passed by, I saw a new level of curiosity and wariness in the glance she shot me. Dread churned in my stomach, and I barely stopped myself from clutching Haven’s hands.

“What’s wrong, Haven?”

“Bryan and I had a chat this morning.” His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. If I’d kept my distance, you wouldn’t have gotten caught in the middle of this. He’s taking out his frustrations with me on you.”

I sighed and ran a hand over my face. In less than thirty seconds, I felt ten years older. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Haven shifted, adjusting his book bag and shook his head. “No. You don’t have to be nice. It’d be better if you’d go ahead and yell at me.” He stared over my head, looking at something I couldn’t see. He added, in a voice so soft I almost missed it, “You are caught up in so much, and you don’t even know it.”

Irritation pricked my temper. “Which part are you referring to?”

He glanced back down at me, surprise on his face.

“The part where your cousin is scaring me? Or the part where my family is a mess and living in a seriously freaky haunted house? Or maybe, all the creepy secrets implied about you and your cousin?”

Haven jerked as if I’d struck him, then his features went blank and stiff. “So you’ve heard about Melanie, have you?”

“Yes.” I hadn’t heard a name, but I figured it was a safe assumption we were talking about the girl who disappeared.

Despite the blank, emotionless façade, I saw hurt flash in his eyes. I didn’t really understand why. I hadn’t accused him of anything. He looked at me, and I met his gaze without fear. For several seconds, we stood like that, until I had the strangest feeling there was a connection between us.

I blinked and looked away. Even so, there seemed to be a connection in me, joining us, and I didn’t like the sensation.

Clearing his throat, he held out one hand. “I think you and I need to ditch school today.”

The world paused for a moment. “What?”

I’d never missed a day on purpose in my life. Even when at my worst. “There’s a test in Mr. Larsen’s class today.”

Haven smirked. “Chicken?”

“It’ll ruin my perfect attendance,” I said.

He laughed. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

My decision wasn’t as hard to make as it should have been. He waited, but I think he already knew what I’d pick.

“All right. But I have to call Grant and tell him.”

“I’ll wait over here,” he said.

He moved several yards away while I pulled out my cell phone. I punched Grant’s speed dial and waited.

“Hello?”

“Grant, I’m skipping school.”

There was a pause. “With Haven?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it for a good reason?”

I stared at the phone for a second. “What? That’s all the protesting you’re going to do?”

He laughed on the other end. “I’m the moody, detached one, remember? You want to skip, I won’t stop you. But don’t be stupid.”

“Are you sick? Has the invasion of the body snatchers started with you?”

“Haven’s been helping me with some issues of my own. I trust him.”

Hurt crushed my chest. Grant had gone to a complete stranger for help? “Oh.”

A sigh blew static into the earpiece. “Don’t get mopey, Sis. It’s not you. It’s a guy thing. Haven’s all right.”

“I’ll have my phone on.”

“Gotta go. Principal Westchester is headed this way. Later.”

He clicked off and I stood, staring at the phone. What just happened? I shook my head and slid the phone back in my pocket. Haven raised his eyebrows and fell into step alongside me as we headed for his car.

“I’m good,” I said.

He nodded, then smiled. “Great. Let’s get out of here.”

Haven’s car was a gorgeous white mustang, and he unlocked the car, then blushed. A pile of bags sat in the back seat.

“Sorry. I forgot about all this stuff. Give me a minute.”

“No biggie.” I leaned against the bumper and watched. The bags were full of books and women’s clothes.

“Donations?”

He paused for a moment, his expression going blank. “Something like that.”

I knew him long enough now to know it meant he was uncomfortable, lying, or both. Maybe this trip hadn’t been a great plan after all. The thought of returning and listening to the whispers and Bryan’s false sympathy kept me from walking back into the building. This was definitely the lesser of two evils.

“What did Grant say?” Haven nudged the bags of stuff over and reached for my book bag. I handed it over willingly.

I moved out of the way and climbed in the passenger side while he shut the trunk and slid behind the wheel. “He was very complimentary of you. Encouraged it.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

“Why?” He backed out, and headed out of the parking lot.

I sighed. “We’re close. I guess I assumed he’d yell at me. Or beg me to take him along.”

Haven chuckled. “I’m surprised he didn’t try.”

“So, where are we going?”

“Hanover Park, by way of the grocery store. We’ll grab stuff for a picnic—my treat.”

I raised a brow, but nodded. “Sounds good.” Butterflies took up shop in my stomach. The two of us alone on a picnic? Like a date? Confusion pounded at my temples. Why did life always have to be so complicated?

“Don’t think so hard, Claire. Just go with it.”

I crossed my arms. “Aren’t we going to get caught?”

“Hanover’s in the next county over.” Haven chuckled. “I won’t let you get caught on your first day skipping.”

“It’s that obvious?”

“Oh yeah. Don’t worry. I don’t skip often, and I swear I’m not trying to corrupt you.”

Too late, I thought. I stared out the window, trying to cover up the blush burning my cheeks.

***

We spread a flowered quilt from the back of Haven’s car on the ground. I grabbed the grocery bag with our picnic supplies and set it in the center. We slipped off our shoes and sat down.

“Haven?”

He rummaged through the bag. “I know. You’ve been more patient than I expected.”

“I need answers.”

Sighing, he put my sandwich and chips in front of me, and handed me a can of soda. “Shoot.”

I rolled the cold can between my palms. “Are you really psychic?”

“Are you?” He took a huge bite of his sandwich.

I popped the tab. “No answering a question with a question.”

He tilted his head in agreement and swallowed. “You’re going to have to answer eventually. I’ve noticed things about you, Claire.”

Fear rose in my throat. I forced it down and just waited. He sighed. “Fair enough. Yes, I am. Sometimes I see the future, more often the past. Occasionally I catch a passing thought. But only if someone is really broadcasting it loudly.” He sipped his drink. “Your turn.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Answer my question. I know you’ve seen Gregory Halifax, the construction worker who haunts the school.”

My eyes widened. “Yes.”

He paused. “Not going to elaborate?”

“Do you really think I came with you to give answers?” I immediately wished to retract the snippy words.

Haven laughed. “I knew you had a backbone.”

I crossed my arms. “Is this why you brought me out here? To insult me?”

“I’m not picking on you. But you’ve been going around school for the last two weeks walking on eggshells. We’ve been sitting together at lunch, and I don’t know you any better, really, than I did the first day.” Pink rose in his cheeks, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “I’d like to change that.”

Words escaped me. I stared at him, thoughts racing.

“You look surprised.”

Heat began to rise in my face. “Well, yes. I mean, it didn’t seem like you were interested.”

“So your surprise isn’t an objection?”

“Why would it be?”

He raised an eyebrow. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not the most popular guy in school.”

“People are always afraid of what they don’t understand. They still talk to you, at least sometimes.” I looked away, tracing the lines of quilting on the blanket. “Believe me, I know what it’s like. When people found out about me at my last school, things didn’t go well.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “It’s done and over with.” With a sigh, I gazed at him. “I’m a little afraid something will happen again. Last time ended…badly.”

“Some people will always be distant, but they’ve had to deal with me for a long time. If your secret gets out, it will be okay.”

“Ah, but I don’t see the future.” I swallowed. “I speak to the dead. Sometimes I can read thoughts.” I choked back a giggle. “I’ve never said it out loud before. It’s kind of scary and weird.”

Haven winked. “No, not weird. Eccentric. It makes you sound wealthy and mysterious.”

I laughed in spite of myself. Lifting my can of soda, I gave a mock salute. “Sounds good to me. But you’re still not off the hook. I want to know about Melanie.”

Chapter Twelve

“Despite what he made it sound like, I didn’t kill her.” A frown stretched his mouth down. “I dreamt about her for weeks. Nothing concrete, only enough to know something would happen and it’d be bad. She wasn’t known for following the rules. I thought if I confronted her, I could scare her with what I’d seen. Maybe enough to warn her off and keep her from being hurt.”

“She didn’t believe you.”

A snort escaped him. “No one did. She laughed, and then she got pissed. I caused a huge scene because I was frustrated no one would listen. She got mad because everyone was talking about me and not her. She actually said that to me before she stormed off.”

I raised a brow. “Special.”

“Yeah.” He waved a hand. “Anyway, something about that night set Bryan off. I don’t know, maybe he had a crush on her. Maybe it was something else. Since middle school, something has always been a bit off. He sealed the deal when he was the first one to tell the cops about my argument with her. We’ve been at each other ever since.”

I didn’t want to point out I’d noticed what was off about Bryan the other day. “That can’t be all there is to the feud between you and Bryan.”

“You want all the details, huh?”

I nodded and opened my chips. Haven downed another bit of sandwich. “Well, I’m not sure why our whole family is still fighting. But I know it has to do with a mutual ancestor. A Great-Great Aunt Maggie. She had some sort of psychic talents. Back then, people wanted to play with Ouija boards and spiritualism. But in a small town, having the real thing wasn’t quite the same.”

“What does that have to do with the two of you?”

“Well, Maggie had two brothers. Twins, as cliché as it is. One of them wanted to institutionalize her. No one’s sure why. Probably because he couldn’t handle the reality of what she could do.” He motioned to me. “You know how it goes.”

I nodded. He had no idea how well I knew.

“Anyway, the other brother wanted to move, take her somewhere and start over. He had similar abilities, but had kept it under wraps. Turns out it didn’t matter. She disappeared one night and committed herself to a local home.”

“What kind of home?”

He stared off into space. “No one seems certain. They say it was a home for the mentally challenged. The whispers say it was the kind of place you sent relatives to get rid of them. For whatever reason—money, inheritance, annoyance—didn’t matter. They’d keep it quiet for you. They didn’t have to be insane, just different or unwanted.”

I shook my head. “How awful. Why would she do that to herself? Things had to have been pretty horrible.”

“Sometimes I think she must have had a secret of her own. A big and important one. Otherwise, it doesn’t make sense at all.” Haven shook his head. “She must have thought it so terrible neither brother would understand. But then there’s the possibility that the one who wanted to lock her away did it under everyone’s noses.”

“Where was this place? Close by?”

Haven’s gaze slid away from mine and he stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth. The hair on my arms stood on end.

“It’s my house, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Well, it does explain a few things.” I struggled to keep calm. “What does all this have to do with you and Bryan? You can’t be arguing about a Great-Great Aunt you’ve never actually met.”

Haven stretched across the blanket and propped his head up on one hand. “That’s where things get fuzzy. My side of the family always has some sort of psychic talent. Bryan’s side doesn’t and always hates us for it. Some of them are mad they don’t have the power, some are mad because they fear it. Then others say it’s all about Maggie. The story goes that when the two brothers found out about Maggie, they tried to get her out or at least visit, but a few days after they found her, she went missing. Each brother blamed the other, and neither believed the note left behind that said she’d run away to South America. The letter wasn’t in her handwriting, and the home didn’t have the best reputation. The brothers vowed their respective families would never have anything to do with each other again.”

“And no one has tried to patch things up? I find it hard to believe.”

Haven shrugged. “It’s weird, actually. Every time the sides try to make up, a disaster happens. A huge falling out, a catastrophe, anything to start the whole thing over again.”

I couldn’t imagine Bryan and Haven playing together as children. The image didn’t seem real. “So you were never friends?”

“Believe it or not,” he said, “when we were younger we used to sneak out and play together. Our mothers were never keen on it, but they didn’t look too hard. We started to get more distant when Bryan found out about my gift. First he was angry. Then he was jealous.”

“And then?”

“Melanie disappeared, and you know the rest.”

After a few minutes, I pulled out the two cookies I’d bought from my purse and handed him one. He accepted with a smile. “What was the name of this place?” I wondered if Mom knew the house’s history when she bought it.

“If I remember right, it was the Horace Gunderson Philanthropic Home for the Wayward Soul.”

I resisted the urge to giggle. It sounded like it was out of a B horror movie. “How…Victorian.”

“I know. It’s a mouthful, right?” He laughed.

“I think I’m going to have to do some research. The library would have records about the house. Articles and things, right?”

Haven nodded. “I could take you tomorrow, if you wanted.”

“Thanks. That’d be great.”

I couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or afraid of Haven’s intentions. He’d gone about things in a weird way, but I liked him, and he seemed genuine. Questions about him mingled with those about the house and the past. My head pounded like it might explode.

One thing, however, always came to the front. “Why would Bryan do this? Why come out to the house and warn me off? He says he knows how he’s acted, but he still did it anyway. And after going out of his way to be nice, now he’s decided he’s angry with me.”

Haven balled our trash up and chucked it into the bag. “I’d like to say he’s just a jerk.” His brow furrowed. “But it is weird even for him. I guess he really likes you.”

“I guess we’ll see how much he likes me. When he finds out where I’ve been all day, he’s going to flip.”

Haven shrugged. “You don’t have to tell anyone you were with me. It won’t offend me if you don’t.”

I wondered how often that happened to Haven.

“Come on, let’s talk about something else. It’s my turn to ask a few questions.”

I took a deep breath, ignoring the sinking feeling in my gut. “All right.”

He smiled. “What do you like to do for fun?”

Not what I expected. “Well, I like movies, books. You know, normal stuff.”

“Movies, huh?” He perked. “Maybe sometime I’ll have to take you to one.”

Another blush warmed my cheeks and I nodded “I might be convinced to go to the movies.”

“What kind do you like best?”

I sighed. “You’ll be disappointed to know that I’m not a chick-flick fan. Adventure movies, fantasy, sci-fi. Those are usually my top choices.”

His eyes widened and he clutched his chest. “Beautiful, psychic, and doesn’t like chick flicks? Marry me.”

I laughed, then leaned over and covered his hand with mine. A ripple of awareness moved through my fingers. I thought I saw the same in the slight jump of Haven’s fingers. “If I forget to tell you later, Haven, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being open. For not lying to me.”

His fingers curled around mine. “Any time.” His gaze caught mine until I blushed and looked away. He released me and got to his feet. “How about a walk around the park? It’s nearly noon.”

I took the hand he offered, ignoring the feeling of déjà-vu that happened whenever I touched him. At first, it had been so slight I hadn’t really noticed. The longer I talked to him, the more the contact set me off balance. It wasn’t anything he did—it was just a strange bond between us.

***

We headed back to the car, and butterflies fluttered to life at the thought of having to go home.

“Are you sure your mom isn’t going to freak about the two of us skipping together? Because mine will if the school called this morning and she paid attention to the phone.”

His face closed, a wave of hurt blanketing his expression for a second. “No. I live with my grandmother.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Things are difficult with my family. Grandmother isn’t bad, she just doesn’t approve of me.”

“Approve of you?” I laid a hand on his arm. Beneath my fingers, his muscles tensed. “What do you mean? She doesn’t like your behavior?”

“She doesn’t like me much. It’s not personal, she didn’t intend on raising her grandchild is all. She’s pretty strict.”

“Why the hell did we skip, then? I don’t want to get myself in trouble, but I definitely don’t want you to get in trouble on my account.” I told him. Not liking your grandkid seemed pretty damn personal to me. I found myself annoyed on his behalf. Mom may be struggling with Grant and me, but we knew she loved us.

He laughed. “It’s good to know you care.” Unlocking the car, he grinned at me. “Don’t worry too much. She’s always gone during the day. She won’t notice until later I skipped, and by then I’ll already be in trouble for something else.”

“Haven—”

He put a finger over my lips. “I shouldn’t have told you. Don’t worry so much.”

I glared and slid into the passenger seat when he opened my door.

“I don’t get you, Haven.”

“Good.” His wink made my pulse leapt. “You won’t get bored too quickly.”

Sucking in a huge mouthful of air, I weighed my options. Haven appeared to be everything I could want in a boy. Cute, attentive, and with a protective instinct that didn’t come out as a jerk. Underneath, though, he hid a lot. Maybe he thought today would make me ignore that. Maybe he didn’t. I couldn’t know, and I didn’t want to rush into anything. Despite how comfortable I felt around him, I couldn’t shake the questions I had.

“What are you frowning about?” He pulled out into traffic.

“Today.”

He glanced my way, then focused on the road. “Today wasn’t about trying to make you fall madly in love with me. I’m not out to force you into anything. I only wanted to see if I could help. See if I had a shot. You’re the first girl I’ve ever wanted to date. You’re smart, funny, pretty, and you aren’t afraid to be different.”

“Do you always have the answers or am I that predictable?”

“With you, the answers are—” He searched for words for a moment. “I don’t know. They just come easily.”

There was a short pause. “You think I’m not afraid? I’m terrified of some of the things I can see and do.”

He shook his head. “No, you’ve had a bad experience. But you’ll come out all right.”

“Is that you seeing the future?”

He caught my eye and smiled, and there was something soft and warm there. “I don’t need to see the future for that, Claire. You’re much better than you think.”

“You could be feeding me a line. This whole day could have been a line.”

“You’re right, it could have. You’ll have to decide for yourself. But please remember, I’m not my cousin.”

No way would I mistake the two of them. “Well, then.” I sighed. “I’d say you’ve definitely got a shot.”

A satisfied smirk lifted his lips. “Now that is the best news I’ve heard all day.”

***

Grant waited outside in the parking lot when we pulled up to the school. There had been an accident on the road, and we were ten minutes late getting back.

Judging by the scowl on Grant’s face, Mom had been a no-show again.

I didn’t get a chance to say anything, before Haven had jumped out of the car and pulled Grant out of earshot. Whatever they talked about, Grant was very animated.

After a several minutes, Grant went to grab is book bag from where he’d left it propped against the building. In the few moments, Haven came up to stand with me.

“Is he okay? I’m worried.”

“Your brother has a temper, but he’s not mad at you. He was thrilled you skipped with me. Especially after Bryan cornered him in the lunchroom and demanded to know where you were.”

I blanched. “He told him?”

Haven sighed, he didn’t look pleased either. “Yes. Bryan disappeared afterward. Everyone thinks he skipped out to look for you.”

“Is he always so scary?”

“No.” Haven ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t want you to be alarmed, but this is out of character even by Bryan’s standards. You need to be careful.”

“You think he’ll be stupid.” I believed he would, and I hadn’t known him very long.

“I think”—he chose his words carefully—“Bryan has a temper, and this time, he’s not ready to give up what he wants. I also know if you need anything, call. I will take care of him if he comes by and bothers you.”

“You can’t fight all my battles for me. I’m much tougher than I look.”

He didn’t crack a smile. “Promise you’ll call if you need me.”

“I promise.”

Haven sighed, squared his shoulders. “Avoid Bryan for a few days, and let him cool off.”

“Well, it is the weekend.”

“And it means you’ll be spending tomorrow with me, shopping.”

“Are you asking or telling me?”

He did grin that time. “Asking, of course.”

“Does it include a bookstore?”

He stepped back, an indignant look on his face. “Who spends money on video games or clothes when there are novels to be read?”

I laughed. “What time?”

“Noon.”

Grant blew out a long breath. “Sorry, Sis. I’m just not in a great mood. How are we getting home?”

“I’ll take you guys. It’s my fault you missed the bus anyway.” Haven pulled out his keys again, glancing at Grant.

“Thanks. We really appreciate it.”

The drive to the house was quiet and short. Mom was already gone, but a red note fluttered on the outside of the screen door. The bottom dropped out of my stomach.

“Thanks for the ride, Haven.”

He climbed out with us, standing with his door open. “Listen, if you get in trouble for today, blame it on me.”

“You didn’t make me go. I’ll deal with it,” I said.

Grant grabbed both our book bags from the trunk. “Don’t worry. Mom has to get her head out of her ass in order to even notice.”

Haven reached out and shoved at his shoulder. “You remember what I told you.”

Grant nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thanks for the ride, man.”

He waited until we unlocked the door before pulling out of the driveway. The note wasn’t from Mom like I thought. Inside were only a few hastily scribbled lines.

One of the deepest circles of Hell is reserved for traitors and betrayers. We need to talk.

I didn’t need to read the signature to know who it was from.

Chapter Thirteen

Grant and I decided to put in a movie after dinner. I let him pick a horror flick because it was the only way to distract him from hunting for the note. I told him it was from Mom, but he knew I lied. Watching a slasher flick was probably a poor life choice to begin with, but when I realized I needed to start a load of laundry afterward, it seemed even worse than normal. Grant had turned another movie on and shoved a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

The smell of butter popcorn tickled my nose, mingling with the musty odor of damp concrete and dirt wafting up the stairwell from the basement. I paused in the doorway, my laundry basket propped on my hip.

Dread and revulsion swirled in my stomach. I didn’t want to go, but I liked dirty undies even less. I fumbled along the wall for the light switch, and the bare bulb which hung halfway down the stairs flickered to life. Another light farther back also illuminated the bottom of the stairs in a sickly yellow glow.

Swallowing hard, I headed down. My fingers kept a white-knuckle grip on the banister. We hadn’t painted or done more than sweep and knock the worst of the spider webs down. It had taken two plumbers and three electricians to get the washer and dryer installed and the furnace and water heater up-to-date. They kept leaving, all citing different reasons. Now, down here alone, I understood they were all lies. The second my feet hit the bottom step, the skin between my shoulder blades itched as if someone watched me. Someone who thought I invaded their space.

Okay. Focus. Put the laundry in and get the hell out of here.

I shivered. The temperature seemed several degrees cooler as well, but it was the basement. All basements were cold and damp. I repeated the words like a mantra as I made my way across the room. Even so, goose bumps rose on my arms, and I tried to ignore the small white puffs my breath made. No basement was this cold in summer.

I wanted to run back upstairs and nail the door shut. Instead, I dumped my clothes in the washer, chucked some soap in, and closed the lid. Right when I pulled the knob out to start the cycle, every light went out.

Heavy panting came from behind me, moving so close an ice-cold breeze rustled the hair next to my ear. My mouth opened, but no sound escaped. When icy fingers slid across the back of my neck, I bolted.

Although it was pitch black, I headed in the general direction of the stairs. I tripped, scraping my hands on the concrete floor as I pushed back to my feet. Dim light filtered from the open door above, and I made a beeline for it. Only when I was within feet of it did I look behind me.

A white mist followed a few feet after. In the center of the hazy form, a face began to materialize. The ghost’s mouth stretched to inhuman proportions. The smell of dust and decay threatened to choke me. Fear coated my tongue and I turned, my legs shaking beneath me as I sprinted the last few feet to the stairs. Coldness swirled behind me and every hair on my body stood on end. My feet gained one stair, but on the second I slipped, cracking my shin on the tread. The burst of white-hot pain made tears prick my eyes, and my heart pounded even faster. A breath of wind traveled up my calves, and my fingers scrabbled on the wall for the railing, paint jamming beneath my nails like sharp skewers. A squeak escaped me, but I didn’t have enough air for a real scream.

A faint wail echoed from somewhere nearby, though I couldn’t tell if I heard it with my ears or my mind. Even as I got my feet under me again and crawled up two more stairs, icy fingers curled around my legs. A breathless, screaming sob escaped as I tripped again. My body fell hard against the treads. My eyes remained glued to the thin line of light at the bottom of the door above me. Safety was there, mere steps away.

Phantom hands dug into my skin, pulling me down the stairs, the basement door burst open and the stairwell flooded with light. Grant stood at the top of the stairs, breathing hard, his eyes wide. The specter released me, and I slumped in relief.

“Are you okay?”

I shook my head and flipped over, pulling myself up backward, my gaze never leaving the shadowy recesses below. As I hauled myself over the threshold into the kitchen, only the darkening bruises on my leg in the shape of fingers remained as proof of my story.

Grant slammed the basement door closed and locked it. I resisted the hysterical giggle that bubbled in my throat. Could locks really hold back a ghost?

“Answer me. Are you okay?”

I sat on the floor, leaning against the island, and focused on drawing air into my lungs and lowering my thundering pulse rate. “I think so.”

He crouched next to me, and then pulled his cell phone from his pocket. His thumb tapped in a few numbers. He put it to his ear, and I heard a deep mumble on the other end.

“You better come over.”

My brow furrowed. He glanced at the marks on my leg and frowned.

“Seriously, man. She’s really freaked, and honestly, so am I.”

He said goodbye and hung up.

“Who did you call?”

“Haven.”

A flush rose. “What! Why?”

“Because he seems to know what’s going on, or at least more than we do. And he’s a hell of a lot better than Bryan.” A teasing smile curled on his lips. “Besides, I know the two of you have the hots for each other.”

“You need your head examined.”

“Whatever. Will you be all right if I go unlock the door?”

My gaze fell on the basement door in the other corner of the room, and I swallowed, nodding slowly. “Yes.”

Grant stared for a moment, then moved away down the hall. A shadow moved behind the door and from my vantage on the floor, I watched the knob turn.

“Go away.” I shifted, drawing myself up a bit more. “We’re done for the night, you hear? You caught me by surprise, and I won’t let it happen again.”

The knob went a half an inch farther, then stopped. Grant’s footsteps came back down the hall and he leaned in the doorway, keeping his body so he could watch the front door and still keep an eye on me.

“I’m fine, Grant. Really.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve had the shit scared out of you.”

“Thanks so much.”

“I was taught never to lie.”

I stuck out my tongue. “You would find that lesson useful now.”

He smiled and shifted. Beneath me, the floorboards vibrated in time to the echo of feet pounding down the hallway.

“Here comes your knight in shining armor,” Grant murmured. There was no malice in the words.

Haven skidded to a stop in the doorway to the kitchen and bent over, panting. His face was red. “Are you two all right?”

I stared and nodded. “Did you run the whole way here?”

His face colored even more. “Grant made it sound urgent.”

“He overreacted.” I cut my eyes to my brother.

He walked over and pointed at my leg before I could move. “You ever see a ghost able to do that before?”

Haven crouched next to me, his brow furrowed as he studied the bruises. Gently, he laid his fingers over the marks. They were narrower than his hands, but there was no mistaking the handprint.

“What the hell is going on?”

“We were kind of hoping you could help figure it out,” I said. A second later, the basement stairs creaked as if someone walked up to the door. Haven rose, took a step toward it, and I grabbed his leg.

“No.” The knob rattled, and my fear faded and changed to anger. Grant stood to the side, his face white as a sheet. I got to my feet and moved in front of Haven. “I said enough! You’ve made a point.”

Haven hovered over my shoulder, his hands curling over my biceps. My entire body trembled as everything suddenly went silent. Triumph thrummed through my body.

I turned with a smile on my lips. The thing on the other side slammed into the door. I jumped back with a squeak into Haven’s arms. The wood rattled and moved as if a wild beast clawed at the other side.

“I don’t think it worked,” he whispered.

“No shit.” I clung to Haven.

His hands moved around my back and held me tighter. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to talk to it.”

I closed my eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Are you going to tell me why it bothers you so much?”

“You mean beyond the whole, ‘I’m talking to the dead’ part?” I paused. “Maybe. Someday,” I turned to focus on the door.

I sucked in air, releasing it slowly. The door shook, the thudding more intense, with the knob rattling until I thought it would snap off. I concentrated, my whole gaze on the door, then my attention turned to the darkness behind it. Opening a little crack in the walls around my mind, and I sensed the madness and violence of the spirit. Another nudge of the mental door and I reached out.

Calm enveloped me. I could do this. I would do it.

“That’s enough.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the pounding lessened. I poured more of my will into the power I sent to surround the spirit. “I said, stop it. Go back where you came from. There is no place for you here.”

You have no idea what this place is. What we are. What you will be.

“I don’t care. Right now, you need to leave.”

The spirit pushed back, but I was ready for it. In the back of my mind, I was aware of Grant and Haven, but they were static. My energy stayed intent on forcing the ghost down to wherever it had come from.

When it finally gave in, there was a screech, like fingernails on a chalkboard. Everyone put their hands over their ears. When it was over, the presence had receded back into whatever dark corner it had come from.

“Wow. Did you do that?” Grant stared at me as if I sprouted wings.

I nodded.

“Sweet!” He put up his hand for a high-five. “You’re our own personal ghost buster!”

I smiled, but shook my head. “No. He’s gone for now, but it’s not permanent.”

“Hey, anything is better than nothing,” Grant said.

He moved around us to the fridge. His eyes shifted between Haven and me. Until then, I hadn’t noticed how close I still stood. With a sigh, I stepped away. Haven’s hand caught at mine.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I opened my mouth to say yes, and then closed it. Physically, everything was still there. My body throbbed everywhere the stairs had hit me; my leg ached. I’d be a mess of bruises in the morning. Mentally, I felt…stronger. It had been a long time since I could say so.

“I’m okay, I think.”

Haven raised a brow. “You think?”

“I’m going to be black and blue, and I’m freaking out a little, but yeah.” I smiled at him. “I think so.”

He smiled back, but there were shadows in his eyes. “Good. And please, any time you need me—either of you—call. I’ll come.”

I squeezed Haven’s hands in mine. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Grant slid a pop across the counter to me, then one to Haven. “Yeah, thanks. I know tonight might have been short notice, but it was either you or Bryan.” He made a face and took a swig of cola. “And I really dislike him.”

Haven popped the tab on the can. “Yes, well, I’m biased, but I don’t think he’d have been much use. Unless you count whipping out one of his instruments and turning on a camcorder helpful.”

“What?”

Haven’s gaze moved between Grant and me. “You don’t know?”

I nodded. “I’d forgotten.”

Grant perked. “Know what?”

Haven sipped the drink, then said, “Bryan is a major part of the county’s only paranormal investigative team. He’s been dying to get in this house since he started carrying around EMF detectors and digital recorders in his lunchbox in the sixth grade.”

Grant laughed. “Oh God, what a priceless picture. How did he manage to survive middle school?”

“His parents own a good portion of town. No one dared call him out on his quirks.”

“So he wants to be my friend to get in the house? He didn’t mention that part when we talked.” Anger fizzed in my gut, and I clenched my hands. “What an ass.”

“It gets better,” Haven said. “He’s convinced the Spirit Searchers he can get them in here for an investigation too.”

“Who the hell are they?”

“They’re the group he works with. They’re based a couple counties over. They’ve been featured on a few of those ghost story television shows. When Bryan dreams, he doesn’t do it by halves.”

Grant moved around the island, his eyes on me. My shaking, which had subsided, started again. I didn’t often get angry, but when I did, it wasn’t pretty.

“Don’t take it personal, Sis.”

“Bryan has spent his time making me think I was a horrible person because I rejected him and got upset with him, and the whole time he only spoke to me because he wanted into our house. I think that’s very, very personal.”

Grant put a hand on my shoulder. “Claire, you have to chill out.”

I took deep breaths, concentrating on pulling myself together. Haven reached over and took my hand. Now I’d opened myself up and used my gifts again. It made it harder to cut them off. Just like last time, when I did things without knowing I was doing them. When I could have hurt people. I struggled, panting. Panic consumed me.

“Calm down, you’ve got this.” Haven’s voice was soft. I listened with only half my attention. There was something else…

I opened myself, and nearly lost control. Haven’s aura was so brilliant I winced. Grant’s pulsed beside me, worried. The others flickered in the house around us. One stood beyond the closed basement door, a dark, seething mass of black and red. It pulled on my anger, and I saw a thin thread stretched between us. With effort, I cut it off. A howling echoed around us, and I snapped back to myself so fast I almost toppled from my stool.

“There are so many of them,” I whispered. “They’re like leeches. They want us to stay. They need us.”

Haven’s hand tightened on mine. “Breathe. It will be okay. You need to focus on breathing. What is going on? I don’t think it’s the ghosts making you panic.”

“I can’t control it sometimes, and it gets difficult…” I bit back any other confessions and squeezed his hand, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “I’m okay, I promise. It’s just…they’ve never been so obvious before.”

“You’ve never really tried to see them before.” His thumb feathered across the pulse in my wrist. The movement calmed me somehow.

I shook my head. “I’ve seen a few because I couldn’t control it. They wanted me to see. But I haven’t tried to on purpose.”

“You’ve seen more than one?” Grant demanded. Hurt crossed his features. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to be any more worried or freaked out. I’m sorry.”

“Can you see them too?” Grant asked.

Haven shook his head. “I get flashes of the past sometimes, but I can’t feel them unless they want me to.”

Grant leaned over and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “You okay?”

I nodded, pulled away my hands, and wiped at the tears leaking from my eyes. “For now.”

Chapter Fourteen

I thanked Haven for his help, and conversation fizzled out. The silence around us was awkward. I sighed. “I’ve done a lot of thanking you today.”

Haven smiled. “I’m glad I could help.”

Grant took a seat across from us. “Claire’s pretty easy going. When she gets freaked out, I know things are bad.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Haven offered, running a hand through his hair.

Grant and I answered together, with opposite words. I glared at my brother. I wasn’t going to use Haven as my security blanket. Despite what Grant might think, I had a lot of questions. Of course, my heart agreed with Grant, but I wasn’t giving in so easy.

“It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the offer,” I said. “But Mom works the night shift. You can’t stay all night. What would your grandma say?”

Haven made a face and looked away. “She’s already ticked off I ran out when Grant called. I’ll stay here as long as I can. If I get lucky, she’ll fall asleep before I get back.”

“You’ve gotten in trouble a lot because of me.”

Haven shrugged. “I think it’s worth it. So don’t worry about it.”

I slid from the chair. “How about a movie, and then you can go home. Its Friday, there’s no reason to be up early. Unless you work.”

Haven shook his head. “Not early in the day. Just in the afternoons on the weekends sometimes.”

I could see he was lying. His eyes slid away from mine, and he refused to look at me. Why lie about a weekend job?

“What movie?”

“Can I make a suggestion?” Grant shoved another package of popcorn into the microwave and turned.

“What?”

“Let’s not watch another horror movie.”

I laughed. “Agreed.”

We watched two movies, a pirate movie we’d seen a million times, and an old Disney flick. The longer we sat, the more tired I became. Now that the adrenaline rush was gone, the urge to crawl in bed and sleep consumed me. By the end, my eyelids became too heavy to keep open, and I found myself leaning against Haven’s shoulder.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew Haven had me cradled against his chest and was pushing open my bedroom door.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Getting chased by ghosts takes it out of you.”

Haven chuckled softly and sat me down on the bed. My hands automatically curled under the pillows, bringing them closer. A blanket fell over my shoulders, and I was grateful I’d already put on pajamas before my adventure in the basement.

“Where are your headphones?”

I pointed to the nightstand. My limbs were heavy and cumbersome. Haven slid the iPod to me, and then leaned over. “You like the ocean?”

“Mmmm-hmmm. Calms me.”

I didn’t bother putting on the headphones. I pressed the button and flipped the volume up.

Haven’s fingers trailed across my cheek to tuck hair behind my ear. “Me too. Good night, Claire. Sleep well.”

He turned away, and I grabbed at his hand. “Thanks, Haven. You’re almost as good as the ocean.”

Sleep made the room fuzzy, but I think he leaned over and pressed a kiss to my hair before slipping out. A creak caught my attention, and I frowned, cracked open one eye and turned my head.

My closet door silently swung open a few inches. Fatigue kept me from shooting from the bed. With a grunt, I pushed the ear buds into my ears and rolled over. “If you’re gonna eat me in my sleep, get on with it. I’m tired.”

Before the waves covered the noise, I heard the click of the knob as it shut again.

***

When I woke in the morning, the memory of Haven tucking me in brought both a smile and blush to my cheeks. I pushed back the comforter he pulled over me, and swung my legs out of bed. Almost against my will, my attention slid to the closet. The door was closed, and I wondered if I’d dreamed the scene from last night.

“Get a grip.” I checked the clock next to the bed. Almost eleven. He would be here soon, and I still needed a shower and clothes.

My leg ached when I stood. While I wasn’t sure I wanted to look, I had to see. Propping my foot on the edge of the bed, I pulled up my pajama pants. My calf looked like a purple and blue tie-dye shirt.

“Lovely,” I muttered. “Won’t be wearing shorts for a while.”

The handprint, now that the bruises were more pronounced, stood out against my flesh. Definitely didn’t want to explain it to Mom or anyone else. My palms also ached from tripping, and my fingernails looked worse for wear. After a shower and some clothes, I’d have to locate an emery board and make them more presentable.

My cell phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I picked it up. Haven sent a text.

Be there in forty-five minutes. And don’t worry—I’ve got permission to be out this time.

With a giggle, I punched in an “ok” then snagged my robe and headed for the shower. I dressed in jeans and a cute shirt in record time, and was putting on a couple swipes of mascara in the bathroom mirror when I heard the phone rattle on the nightstand, indicating another text message.

Be there in five.

I slid into a pair of ballet flats and grabbed my purse from my desk. When I left, the door to the tower library was open again, the wheelchair in the same position. This time, a silver chain and pendant hung, tangled, from one of the large cracks in the back.

“Not a chance,” I said. My victory the night before fueled my courage. “Offering me jewelry? I’m not stupid. Whatever you want, forget it.”

The wheelchair moved forward again, and I held my breath, stomped to the doorway, and grasped the handle. It was so cold it hurt. I gritted my teeth and yanked hard. For a second, it was like someone pulled against me from the other side. I dropped my purse, wrapped my other hand around it, and tried harder, throwing my weight into it. At the last second, the door released, closing with a bang that echoed around the house. The loss of balance threw me backwards, and I slid across the floor until I felt the edges of the banister against my scalp.

My fear returned, bigger than ever. Whatever lurked in this house was far stronger than me. And knew it. My new confidence wavered and I had to take a deep breath.

Mom’s door opened across the hall, and she stumbled out, squinting and disheveled. “What’s going on?”

I heard footsteps at the bottom of the stairs and Grant call out to me. “Nothing. Go back to bed. Just tripped and took the door with me.”

She yawned. “You okay?”

“Fine. Go back to sleep.”

She nodded, returning to her room. She must have been tired to believe that one. I got up, dusting off my pants and grabbed my purse.

Grant stood in the center of the staircase as I started down. “What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His hand closed over my arm. “Claire, after last night, don’t even try it.”

“Something tried to entice me into the tower library. Do me a favor and don’t go in there, okay?”

To my surprise, Grant laughed. “It won’t be a problem. You’re leaving with Haven, I’m off on my own adventures today. As far from the house as I can get.”

He followed me downstairs. At the bottom step, I turned, fighting the urge to blush again. “How long did Haven stay last night?”

Grant grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”

I stood, gaping, as he sauntered into the kitchen.

Before I could go and protest, my phone buzzed again, and I heard a light knock on the door. Haven was here.

“You’re going to tell me later,” I said, sticking my head in the kitchen door. “Wait and see.”

Grant waved and shoved some cheese puffs in his mouth.

“If you need me, I have my phone. I don’t know when Haven and I will be back.” I glanced at the ceiling. “If you’re smart, you’ll be gone before Mom wakes up and decides to start cleaning the third floor.”

He gave me a thumbs up and I headed for the front door. Haven waited on the porch, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he watched me, the smile on his face fading as I came outside.

“You’re limping. Are you sure you’re okay?” I led the way to his car and climbed in the unlocked passenger door. “I’m fine, Haven. Really.”

He slid behind the wheel and nodded. “Okay. But if you decide you need a break, just tell me.”

There was something really cute in the way he worried about me. “Sure.”

“All right. Ready to go?”

I nodded and the engine roared to life. An awkward silence fell between us for a few miles. When he flipped on a blinker and headed for the library at the center of town. “I swear, I’m not normally this awkward.”

I laughed. “It’s okay. Hanging out with you is one thing. And now you know my secret and we’re out on something that resembles a date…”

He held up a finger. “Oh, it’s a date. I hope. Though most dates don’t generally start at the library.”

A smile spread across my face and I blushed.

“Besides, you haven’t told me all your secrets.”

Panic gripped me and I focused on my fingernail as I traced the seams of my jeans. “What?”

“I thought girls always had secrets. Something about being mysterious and keeping boys interested.”

A giggle escaped and Haven squeezed my hand in his. In a quieter voice, he added, “I’m not going to press for information, Claire. You’ll tell me about your last school when you want to.”

“And if I never do?”

He looked sad for a moment. “I could understand that.”

“You aren’t real.” I blurted. “Real teenage boys don’t say that kind of stuff.” Heat flooded my cheeks.

“Are you sure? Because I am all boy. I promise.” A goofy grin spread over his face. “Want me to prove it? I can stare at your chest for a while or take you in a store and complain about how long it takes you to shop. Maybe tell you how I follow behind you in the halls to watch the rear view sometimes.”

A laugh escaped.

“I think I’ll take you as is.” I struggled not to laugh. “You have a strange sense of humor.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

He pulled into the library parking lot, which was almost empty. Saturday morning wasn’t exactly their busiest time. My hopes rose. The building was huge and built of stone. The gold lettering over the door still proclaimed, “Hanover Banking and Loan.”

“The old stuff is kept in the old bank vault. You’d think they had priceless heirlooms back there.” Haven said, holding the door.

I laughed. “They have to put it to good use, right?”

“I guess so.”

I went straight to the front desk, finding a thin woman with glasses perched at the end of her nose. She looked up from a dog-eared romance novel.

“Good morning. What can I help you with?”

“I’m new in town. We just moved into the house on Cherrystone Lane, and I was hoping I could find some history on the house.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Ah, yes. The old Home. Interesting, but we already have a file put together on that place. That paranormal group with all their investigative nonsense came in and gathered up everything at one point. I just left it. No one else is ever interested.” She rose, smoothing her hands over her sweater. “You say you live there now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She made a humming noise and then sighed. “Well, come with me. This is the easiest research you’ll ever do.”

We followed her toward the back of the building, taking a seat at a long wooden table she motioned to while she disappeared into a back room.

“Paranormal group?” I whispered to Haven.

He leaned back. “They’re popular now. Ask Bryan sometime. He knows all about it.”

I didn’t get a chance to question him, because she came back with a file folder bursting with pieces of paper. Sliding it onto the desk, she pushed her glasses up on her nose. “These are mostly copies, as some of the old articles are on microfiche or too fragile to handle. Don’t leave with any of them, please. When you’re done, just bring me the file before you leave.”

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate this.”

She gives me another once over, as if unsure whether she should be disgusted or not, then nods once. “Not a problem.”

I wait until she’s well out of earshot and then open the file folder. There are tons of articles and photos. The top one has a picture of the house with twenty or so people lined up on the front yard and a huge headline above it: Horace Gunderson’s Home for Wayward Souls Under Scrutiny for Unusual Practices.

I pause, pulling half the pile out and sliding it in front of Haven. “Here. You read through this stack, and I’ll go through these.” I unzip my purse and pull out a small notebook and pen. “We’ll take notes on anything interesting we find.”

“What should I be looking for?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. Anything weird.”

He nodded, flipping through his stack.

I had no clue what to look for, but it was a start. The articles in my stack started with reports of suspicious disappearances that were easily explained away, or resolved when the missing inmate was found wandering the woods. The first few seemed sympathetic to Horace and his institution. They cited the overcrowded conditions, and supported a move that raised the cost of living and limited the “quality of inmates” as well as the quantity.

The dates ranged from a few weeks apart to months. Then, at last, they started to be more critical. Claims were made by family members that the people they thought were being taken care of kindly were really being tortured. Then came the article citing the disappearance of Margaret Elliot.

It wasn’t large. First was a tiny ad from the classifieds offering a twenty-five dollar reward for any information. I snorted.

“What?” Haven asked, bumping my shoulder with his.

“They offered twenty five bucks for information for Margaret Elliot. Is that Maggie?”

He took the paper and scanned the tiny paragraph. “That’s her. Keep in mind, twenty five dollars in the eighteen hundreds would have been a lot more than it sounds.”

“True.”

“How long did they run the ad?”

I flipped through the papers. There were three more copies with slightly different wording, but the dates were unclear. “I’m not sure. At least three weeks. Probably more.”

Another article fell out on the desk. Again, it was small, but the headline caught my attention.

Local Family Demands Closure of Home for Wayward Souls. Cites Murder and Experiments.

We bent our heads over the article,

Horace Gunderson, of the Home for Wayward Souls on Cherrystone Lane, has denied all allegations of experimental procedures on his charges. Mr. Hamilton Elliot and Mr. Vincent Elliot have enlisted the help of local law enforcement in the search for their missing sister.

A letter was discovered at the home, implying the lady might have disappeared at her choice. The family tells this newspaper the letter is a hoax, and insists Gunderson is involved in strange experiments tied to his interest in Spiritualism.

The police refuse to comment on this story.

“That’s different.” I said.

Haven sighed. “I found a small clipping in here where someone had researched Horace’s background. Apparently he was an undertaker before he opened the home. The last town ran him out because he was doing strange experiments and tests on the bodies.”

My lip curled. “So he mutilated bodies and was overly interested in spiritualism. I’m not sure where that all fits in.”

Haven shrugged. “I’d be a pissed off ghost if he’d been messing with my body without permission.”

“Good point.”

“Lots of Victorians were interested in spiritualism, but it does make me wonder what he was up to.”

“Why would an undertaker open a home for people who were supposed to be mentally disturbed?”

Haven’s answer echoed the one in my head. It made my skin crawl.

“If he was interested in experimenting, it would give you access to lots of people who were forgotten and unwanted.”

“Those poor people. No wonder they haunt the house.”

Haven frowned. There’s more to it than that. These articles and notes talk about his interest in ghosts and psychics a lot. There’s got to be a reason.”

“Well, she said a paranormal team put all this together. Maybe it’s because of who did the research.”

Haven’s face didn’t change much. I rose, grabbing the files and tapping the stack on the tabletop. “Let’s see if she’ll let me make copies of all this,” I said. “Then we’ll go on and have lunch.”

Haven couldn’t seem to decide whether he should argue or go with it. “We can stay longer,” he finally offered.

I shook my head. “This stuff can wait a few hours. Let’s go have some un-ghostly fun.”

Chapter Fifteen

Haven pulled into the parking lot of the Irish Eyes Pub and turned off the car. “This okay for lunch?”

“Definitely.” I got out, putting the stack of papers still warm from the copier, in the backseat. “So where are we headed today? Other than the bookstore.”

“There are other destinations?” He teased.

“Why aren’t you dating anyone again?”

He held open the door. “Don’t want my secret to get out.”

The waitress asked how many and led us to a table. I slid into the booth, and she asked for our drinks. We ordered and I opened my menu.

“Probably because I haven’t found anyone I liked enough. Besides, I was kind of hoping you might change that situation in the near future.”

I blushed. “That all depends on how well you do today, I guess.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. My grandfather is always telling me I won’t mind shopping and such if it’s the right girl.”

We paused as the waitress slid our drinks in front of us. I shifted in my seat. “You don’t talk about him often. I assumed he was…well…”

He shook his head. “Not dead. They’re divorced, and Grandpa lives in another state. He visits when he can, but it isn’t as often as I’d like.”

“That sucks.”

Haven nodded. “Yes, but it’s okay. When he does come, we have a blast. I never knew my dad, so he’s always been the one I looked up to.”

The waitress came over, pen poised on her notepad to take our order, interrupting us. We hadn’t paid much attention to the menu, but we both ordered cheeseburgers and waited until she wandered away again.

He leaned forward. “What about you? How are you doing with everything?”

I played with my napkin. “Grant’s told you about Dad, I guess?”

He nodded. “Don’t be mad at him.”

“I’m not.” I said. “He needed to talk to someone. He won’t tell me much, and you’ve heard what he’s like with Mom. To say they don’t get along is a massive understatement.”

“Yeah, I got that. But you didn’t answer my question.”

I sighed “I’m okay. I mean, it sucks, but Dad was one of the first ones to tell me I was nuts…before. So I don’t exactly miss him.”

“That bites.”

“Yeah. I think it was more because he thought if I was psychic I would know what he was doing.”

Haven tilted his head. “Did you?”

“Yes and no. Eventually, yes. He thought about it too hard, I guess. But he didn’t need me to screw up things with Mom.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. It is what it is.” Taking a sip of my drink, I blinked back unexpected tears.

The awkward pause lengthened. “Well, I hope things here will get better.”

I thought about Mom, then forced a smile and tried to lighten the mood. I could still be imagining the things I saw in her. “I think it’s already gotten better.”

“Whew! We need to talk about something else.”

“Like what stores I’m going to drag you through?”

He threw a hand over his forehead and groaned. “I knew it was too good to be true! No girl only wants to shop at the bookstore.”

I took a bite of a French fry and waved it around. “When I have a boy to haul things? Never!”

***

My mood took a nosedive the second I entered the house. The smell of burnt sage wafted down from upstairs, and I heard Mom and Grant arguing. I dropped my purse and the bags of things I’d bought next to the door.

“What the hell is wrong with it? It’s my freaking room!” Grant yelled, his words clear as I climbed slowly up the stairs. “You had no right!”

“I will not have any son of mine using incense or candles in his room. You were probably covering up the smell of weed or something!” Mom stood, hands on her hips, cobwebs clinging to her bandana and shirt.

I paused, one hand still on the banister, and a frown growing on my face. White crystals were scattered around the floor, a pile of them mixed with dirt outside Grant’s door. A broom and the dustpan rested against the wall outside.

“Now you’re accusing me of taking drugs? Really, Mom?”

“How would I know? You never talk to me anymore.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “That’s because you aren’t listening. I told you why I had the sage burning. It’s the truth!”

Mom fisted her hands on her hips. “There are no ghosts in this house, and even if there were, what would sage do? Repel them with the awful smell?”

Mom turned to grab the handle of the broom, and I gasped. Around her neck, sparkling like it was brand-new, was the locket I’d seen on the wheelchair earlier. She spun to face me.

“What’s the matter?” she demanded.

“I’m surprised to find you two screaming at each other.”

“Your brother and I were having a discussion.”

Grant cut her off. “Don’t lie to her. You went ballistic over me burning sage and salt.”

“Because it’s inappropriate!” Mom yelled.

I stepped up the last few stairs, reaching out to touch Mom’s arm. She whirled, anger vibrating off her body. “And you—rejecting gifts! Unacceptable!”

“Mom.” I kept my voice soft. “What are you talking about?”

She stared at me, her chest heaving. I reached forward and touched the necklace around her neck. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it.” She slapped my hand away. “The two of you have not made this move easy, and I’m trying my best. I expect you to do the same. Grant, clean up this mess and stop burning that crap. I won’t have it.” She pointed a finger at me. “I’m sure you’re the one who gave him the idea in the first place. Stop it. There is nothing wrong with this house.”

I grabbed the hand waving in front of my face. “You’re in denial, Mom, and you know it.”

“Don’t you dare take that tone of voice with me.” Her face screwed up into a snarl. “You are the one filling his head with nonsense. No wonder he has nightmares.”

Mom’s wristwatch beeped, and she blinked. It was strange. I could almost see a switch flip on inside her head. For a moment, she stared at me, and I saw confusion in the crease of her brow.

“I have to go get ready for work.” She pulled her hand from mine.

“It’s Saturday,” I said.

“I switched with another girl to get some more hours. This place needs a lot of work, and that’s expensive.” She pointed to the pile of dirt and salt. “Get this cleaned up.”

Grant fumed next to the door, and we stared at each other as Mom went into her room, closing the door quietly behind her.

“What happened?” I asked.

Grant kicked at the pile in front of the dustpan. “I was experimenting, and Mom flipped out.”

Crossing my arms, I raised a brow. “Try again with more detail. I thought you were going to be gone all day.”

He motioned me into his room. The scent of burnt sage clung to everything, and the atmosphere was strange. A mixture of calm and angry. I couldn’t understand it, or shake it.

“Tell me the truth, Grant. What’s going on?” I sat down at his desk, and noticed the fine sprinkling of salt on all the floors. It was thickest in the corners of the room. “You were putting a circle of salt around your room?”

“I haven’t slept well since we got here. Horrible nightmares and things moving in the room. Haven and some library books gave me a few ideas, so I decided to try them. The salt seemed to help, so I tried burning sage. The instant I started, Mom came tearing downstairs and flipped out. We argued, and I left. When I came back, she’d started sweeping the salt out.”

I cradled my head in my hands. “I don’t know what’s going on with her. I mean, I know this has been stressful, but I wonder if the ghosts in this house have somehow turned her against us.”

“It makes sense to me. I mean, otherwise, why would she care about the salt? How would she even have known?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. But we have to be careful. If it really is a ghost trying to possess her, we don’t want to give it more of a reason than it already has.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t be using salt and stuff in here?” He looked close to tears. “I’m going to go nuts if I don’t get a real night’s rest, Sis.”

“No, I’m saying we’ll wait until she’s gone. Once it’s done, she can’t undo it.”

“She could sweep away the salt.”

“Then we’ll do it again tomorrow. And every day after if we have to. You have to sleep, and you have to do it somewhere safe.”

Grant’s shoulders sagged with relief. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Thanks.”

“One problem. I only know the general idea. I don’t know the specifics of how this is supposed to work. Do you?”

“Well, sort of. I got tips from someone who knows, but maybe it would be better to ask him to come and help us out.”

I knew what he would say, but I asked anyway. “Who?”

Grant blushed. “Haven.”

Chapter Sixteen

The house was well kept and everything, from the shape of the building to the bushes and grass, seemed cut into rigid lines. As he climbed the steps and rang the doorbell, Grant tugged down his shirt and smoothed his hair. Before we arrived, he warned me to let him do the talking.

The fact that Grant was cowed by the presence of Haven’s grandmother said a lot to me about what kind of reception we were likely to get.

The lock scraped, and the door opened to reveal a tall, whip-thin woman with a frown cut deeply into her lined face. Her white hair was scraped back in a severe bun. The only thing I saw that implied any sort of personality was a profusion of gold and gemstone rings on every finger.

“Hello Grant.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Elliot. This is my sister, Claire.”

I waved, but her frown only deepened.

“We wondered if Haven was home. I needed to ask him if he could come help me with an assignment.”

I kept my smile pasted on, even when I wanted to do something crass. Already, I knew I wouldn’t get along well with this woman. There was a permanent sour pucker to her lips that hinted toward an unbending nature. No wonder Haven always came when we called him.

“What kind of an assignment? Haven hasn’t told me about any sort of group project.”

Grant shook his head. “No, no, it’s mine. I don’t understand a few things, and Haven has been helping me during study hall. I put off finishing it until this evening, and now I’m stuck.”

She sighed and shook her head. “That’s what happens when a woman gets divorced and leaves two teenagers to their own devices.”

My hands clenched into fists where I held them behind my back. Her sharp gaze moved to me, but I continued to smile. I lost a few years of life in the process, but I held the expression.

Finally, she relented and held up one finger. “Wait here. I’ll see if he’s finished his chores. Then he can come and help you.”

She disappeared and Grant glanced back at me over his shoulder, holding a finger to his lips. I glared back. After a few moments, Haven appeared with his grandma close behind. His book bag was slung over one shoulder, and he looked relieved.

“Make sure you call before you head back this way. And don’t be late, Haven.”

She gave me a hard stare then shut the door and drove the lock home. Haven glanced between the two of us and motioned for us to go ahead. I went first, with Haven and Grant behind. The skin between my shoulders twitched, and I knew if I turned around she’d be staring from behind a curtain.

“So why are you really here?”

“Things are getting weird at our house,” Grant said. “And we need some help.”

Haven seemed surprised. “I thought you had what you needed when you talked to me earlier.”

“Things are different now. Trust me, I wouldn’t have bugged you otherwise.”

He stopped, when we were in the thick of the woods between the houses. “What changed in the last three hours?”

I turned. “There’s a problem wrong with Mom. She’s so focused on the house she can’t see anything else.”

Haven rubbed the back of his neck, letting loose a long breath. “You did what I said?”

Grant nodded.

“And it didn’t work?”

He looked at me. I spread my hands. “It feels like it started to, but then it stopped. I can’t tell you anything more.”

Haven’s shoulders drooped. “Then we have a bigger problem. What I told you is the best I know. If it doesn’t work, there’s only one other person I know of who might know enough to help.”

“Who is it? Let’s call them.” Grant pulled out his cell phone.

My gaze connected with Haven’s, and I couldn’t quite identify what I saw there. “Bryan.”

“No.” I crossed my arms. “There has to be someone else. Has to be.”

Haven shook his head. “No, not unless you want to call Spirit Searchers in, and they’re only going to bring Bryan anyway. For a teenager, he’s got quite a reputation in the paranormal community.”

I glanced at Grant, who stared at his phone like it would bite him. Dark circles hung under his eyes. The fatigue was wearing him down. I couldn’t let it continue.

“Put your phone away, Grant.” I slid mine from my pocket. “I’ll call.”

“We can do this without him.” Grant protested.

“No, we can’t.” I dialed the number, and left a message on his voicemail. I wanted to mention the note, but I knew with Haven and Grant watching, it wouldn’t be a good idea. I’d talk to him about that another time. When I hung up, I looked at Haven. “Do me a favor.”

He nodded.

“Please come with us.” I looked away. “I’d like someone to act as a buffer besides Grant, if you don’t mind.”

He reached out and took my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Of course.”

Mom waited on the porch steps when we got to the house. Her brows rose when she saw my hand in Haven’s.

“Who is this?”

“Mom, this is Haven Elliott. He’s a friend of ours from school.”

Haven extended his hand, but Mom stared at him coolly. “What exactly are you doing inviting a boy over when you know I’m on my way out?”

“Mom!” My face heated at her slight. “He’s helping Grant with a project. Bryan will be coming over too, to help me with some homework.”

Her face lit at the mention of Bryan’s name. “Of course, it’s fine. He’s such a nice boy.” The frown returned when she looked back at Haven, and I jumped up the stairs. “Aren’t you already late for work?”

Mom blinked again, and nodded. “I wanted to tell you both how sorry I am about this afternoon. I didn’t mean to snap. This whole experience has been stressful for everyone and I’m afraid I took it out on you two.”

We nodded in unison, and Mom wrapped an awkward arm around my shoulders, then headed for the car. Her gaze lingered a few moments on Haven. I couldn’t decipher the expression there, but it made me uncomfortable.

“I don’t know what is going on with her.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I get that a lot.”

“You shouldn’t,” I said. “Now come inside and we’ll make some dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Yes. Please tell me whatever you’re fixing doesn’t include brussels sprouts or broccoli and my dreams will come true.”

I made a face. “Ew. Of course not. How about salsa chicken and rice?”

“Excellent.”

A few minutes after I pulled the fixings for dinner from the cabinet, my cell phone began to ring. Bryan’s name scrolled across the screen, and I inhaled deeply before answering.

“Hi, Bryan.”

“So, first I’m not your friend and now you need my help?”

I sighed. “You’re the one who decided to come over and be overbearing because you were jealous. Did you honestly expect it to go any differently?”

There was a pause on the other end. “I suppose not.”

Haven scowled at me, and I motioned to the pot he was supposed to be stirring.

“I’m willing to overlook it, Bryan, if you can get over your jealous streak.” I swallowed past the sinking feeling in my gut. This was a bad idea, but we needed help and Bryan could provide it. “Besides, you wanted in my house. Here’s your shot.”

“You know I meant well.”

“Whether you did or not, it was a bad idea.”

“Well, in any case, I’ll prove to you how sorry I am. What do you need help with?”

“Protection for my brother from whatever is in the house.”

I heard Bryan rustling and something falling on the other end of the phone.

“I’ll be there in an hour. I think I’ve got everything we might need.”

“Thanks, Bryan. I—” He’d already hung up. I pressed the end button on my phone and set it on the counter. “He’ll be here in an hour.”

“Maybe this was a bad idea. I could have found someone else,” Haven said.

Grant shook his head. “No way. I’ve got to get to sleep. We’re going on two weeks. My grades suck because I can’t focus, and I’ve almost fallen down the stairs three times.”

Alarm shot through me. He hadn’t told me this. “God, Grant. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He lifted one shoulder. “There’s nothing you could do about it, and you’re dealing with enough on your own. I’m not a baby, I can handle myself.”

Tears pricked my eyes. Haven came around the counter and rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “You aren’t responsible for this. Stop blaming yourself.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be psychic. Who’s supposed to know how all this works. I can’t get anything right, and I’m not sure my mother isn’t being taken over by the house. I don’t even know what these spirits want.”

“Us,” Grant said.

We turned, and I wiped at my eyes. “What?”

“They want us.” Grant pulled the lid off the pot of rice and spooned some into his bowl. “The dreams don’t say much else, but they’re quite clear about that.”

“What do you dream about?”

Grant shook his head. “No. Some things we are never going to discuss.”

“Grant—”

He shot me a glare that could have stripped paint. “You know as much as you need to. Don’t ask again.”

Haven tugged on my hand, taking me down the hall and into the living room. Things had been looking up this afternoon. Now they were bogged back down in the mire.

“Listen, I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He talks to me. Don’t worry so much,” Haven said.

“It’s not that easy,” I whispered. “You don’t understand. He’s all I’ve got left.”

Haven’s hand slid under my chin and gently pushed me until I looked up. Sympathy glittered in his eyes. “I understand better than you think. Trust me, he’s okay. I would tell you otherwise. And don’t be so pessimistic. Things will get better.”

“I hope you’re right. Because if they don’t get better soon, I’m not sure how much more of this we can take.”

“Don’t cry. Please. You know, you have me too.”

I sniffed and rubbed at my eyes. “You’re sweet, but I’m not crying.” Pushing at his chest, I urged him back toward the kitchen. “You’ll tell me if anything is wrong?”

“I will.” He squeezed my hand. “Now let’s eat before Bryan gets here and I lose my appetite.”

We moved back into the kitchen and got dinner. Talk was kept, by unspoken arrangement, to neutral subjects. There would be plenty of time to discuss ghosts and Grant’s problem.

Bryan knocked on the front door exactly an hour later. I took a deep breath and pasted on a smile before heading down the hall and leaving the others to wash dishes.

“Hello, Bryan. Glad you decided to come.” I opened the door and stood back so he could come inside.

When his foot crossed over the threshold, a breeze blew through the hall like the house sighed. Haven and Grant shot out of the kitchen, Haven still dripping with dishwater.

“What the hell?” Grant demanded.

I closed the front door and watched Bryan’s face. He couldn’t seem to decide whether to be thrilled or pissed off.

“Apparently we aren’t the only ones happy to see him,” I said. Haven returned to the kitchen, a worried frown pulling at his lips. Grant stared for a moment, then followed.

“What’s Haven doing here?” Bryan demanded. “You didn’t mention him when you called.”

I started toward the kitchen. “You were both invited. If you choose to leave because he’s here, fine. But I’m not asking him to leave because you’re pouting.” My mind raced as I waited to see if he would follow. The atmosphere in the house had changed. It seemed that for whatever reason, the ghosts were pleased to see Bryan.

The idea freaked me out.

Bryan came into the kitchen, setting his bag on the counter. “So, what exactly did you need me for?”

His words were brusque to the point of rudeness, and he kept a dark glare on Haven the whole time. Gritting my teeth, I motioned Grant over. “All right, Grant, time to tell everyone what you’ve been up to.”

As he described putting down the salt circle and then moving around the room with the burnt sage, Bryan scribbled in a small notebook and grunted at regular intervals. I wanted to smack him, and barely resisted the urge.

When Grant finished, everyone turned to stare at Bryan, who continued to make notes for a few minutes. At last, he closed the notebook and looked up, a smug smile on his lips. “I’m sure Haven’s method works for minor supernatural irritations, but if you want to do it right, then I’ll do it. Nothing will get through what I put up there.”

“And it won’t trap anything inside with me?” Grant asked.

Bryan frowned, but he shook his head. “No. I’ll kick them out and seal it.”

He rose and we started to follow. “No.” He shook his head. “You guys stay here. What I’m going to do takes concentration.”

I stood. “I’m coming to watch, whether you like it or not.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Fine, but Haven and Grant stay here. I won’t have all of you mucking up the energy in the room.”

They nodded, though neither looked happy about it. As far as I was concerned, they didn’t have to. None of us trusted Bryan, so he wasn’t going up there to tamper with Grant’s room unless someone went to watch him.

Leading the way upstairs, I wondered at Bryan’s certainty about what to do. I couldn’t imagine any high-school senior being quite so knowledgeable about the paranormal. It wasn’t that I found it impossible. Just unlikely in Bryan’s case.

I opened Grant’s door and Bryan sat his book bag in the center of the floor, pulling out several items. A vial of clear fluid, more sage and matches, and a small book. He handed me the sage and matches.

“If you’re going to be here, you can do this part. First, I’m going to sprinkle the holy water around the room. You follow with the sage, and I’ll use these prayers. They’re in Latin, so keep quiet while I’m doing this.”

I took the sage and lit the end. Bryan uncapped the vial and opened the book to a page he’d already marked. “Ready?”

I nodded.

“The key is belief. If you don’t believe it will work, then it won’t.”

I nodded and followed him around the room. The sage smoke made my eyes water and I resisted the urge to sneeze. Bryan’s voice was clear and loud as we circled the room. I kept half an ear open to what he said, and half to the psychic feeling in the room. The farther we went, the less ominous the atmosphere seemed to be. Finally, we ended at the door again, and Bryan finished his prayer by sketching a cross in the air with the holy water.

A sense of calm and peace washed over me and I smiled. Bryan turned and crushed out the sage in the small dish Grant had brought up earlier for the same purpose.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Despite the new atmosphere, my body tensed when I turned my attention to Bryan. “We really appreciate this.”

“You know it isn’t their appreciation I care about.”

“Yes, I know. And I’m very grateful you decided to overlook our argument and come anyway.”

He smirked. “Sure. Well, now that the hard part is done, do we get dessert?”

Keeping the smile on my face hurt. “I think I’ve got some cookies I can hook you up with.”

Opening the door and stepping into the hall, I didn’t wait for him to answer. After a few brief moments, I heard him follow.

“Tell him to keep reinforcing it with his own thoughts and prayers of protection, and it should hold just fine.” Bryan hopped down the stairs to walk down next to me.

“Great. This will really help him. It’s been hard for him not being able to sleep.”

“And you? Do you have problems sleeping?” Bryan’s hand grazed my shoulder, and I resisted the urge to flinch away. My skin crawled where he touched it.

“No, the house doesn’t affect my dreams.” I knocked lightly on the wooden banister. “Hopefully it stays that way.”

Bryan didn’t share my faint chuckle. He stopped on the last stair and grabbed my elbow. “You have to be careful, Claire. This place isn’t a laughing matter. I’ve done research about it.”

“So you’re the one who made the file at the library.” It made sense now. I didn’t see why I hadn’t thought of it before.

Bryan’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Are you the one who took it?”

“Took it?”

He nodded. “It’s gone missing. I went to go and look something up a couple days ago and the files are gone.”

“I made copies, and gave them back to the librarian. I didn’t take them.” I started down the stairs again. “I’ll bring it to school tomorrow if you want. You can look through the copies.”

“Someone needs to keep those records. It took a long time to gather all that together.”

I smiled. “I’m sure. I promise I’ll bring it. You can use your charm to get the ladies in the office to copy it all for you.”

He paused. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Another breeze ruffled our hair.

“Can you feel them?” His eyes moved around the foyer with an expression I couldn’t place.

I jerked my arm out of his grasp. “Yes, I can. But why can you?”

“Their presence is heavy. Like lead weights on your feet in a cold pond.” His voice grew faint, and a glazed look came into his eyes. I cursed and reached out and tugged hard on his hand, causing him to stumble down the stairs.

“Don’t be stupid, Bryan. It doesn’t take much searching to find trouble in this house. If you’re going to stand around and invite them into your head, you’re leaving.”

He didn’t say a word. Biting my lip with worry, I pushed him toward the front door. He should be protesting or getting upset. Anything but this strange frozen indifference.

“That’s it. Out. You’ve had enough for one evening.”

Another phantom breeze ruffled my hair, and the temperature plummeted. Grant and Haven shouted in the kitchen. A low growl sounded right behind my shoulder, but I didn’t turn. I continued to push Bryan, who seemed to be coming back to himself, out the door.

His feet moved like they were caught in molasses. “Claire?”

I shoved my shoulder into his back and he stumbled into the screen door, landing on his knees on the porch. The breeze turned into a roar, and then cut off, like someone flicked a switch.

Bryan shook his head, dusting off his hands and standing. “What happened?”

My breath came in gasps. The effort it had taken to get him on the porch was ridiculous. “You got a little too cocky.”

“I don’t know whether to thank you or get upset.”

“I vote for gratitude, if you’re asking.” I stood. “Forgive me for being rude, but don’t come over again unless you take some precautions of your own. This place likes you, and it’s not a good thing.”

Bryan struggled to hide a delighted smile. “Yes. Well. I guess I’ll head home. You call if you need anything else.”

I nodded. “I will. Good night, Bryan. And thanks.”

With a smirk, he waved, disappearing down the porch steps and around the corner. I heard him trip and mumble a curse, and I knew his attention still lay with the house and whatever had tried to hold on to him.

Haven and Grant waited inside the doorway.

“What the hell was that?” Grant demanded. “I thought he fixed my room!”

“He did.” I sighed. “But the ghosts in the house let him fix your room. It was worse than Mom. Whatever is here wants Bryan. It wants him bad.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Haven, have you been to the library lately?” I asked. A horrible thought was forming.

He frowned. “No. Why?”

“Bryan is the one who put together the research we copied. He says the originals at the library are missing.”

He stiffened. “Where are the copies?”

I turned, heading upstairs to my room. I’d left the stack in the bottom of my desk drawer, knowing Mom never bothered my desk. Grant and Haven followed behind me as I yanked on the knob, revealing a messy stack of stationary and paperclips.

I scooped up everything and dumped it on my desk. The papers had been clipped together on the bottom. There was nothing there now.

“Check and see if they’re in another drawer,” Grant told me.

I opened each one, but most were filled with small bits of paper and pens. One drawer held stickers and a flashlight. No other stacks of paper were there.

“I think someone doesn’t want us to know more than we do already.”

Haven sighed. “At least we managed to read most of it. We have a little more knowledge than before.”

I shoved everything back in the drawers. “I guess. We’ll keep our eyes open when we’re cleaning up. If we find anything else, we’ll have to read it before it has a chance to disappear again.”

Grant scowled, then brightened. “What about the paper you took notes on?”

A quick shuffle through the middle drawer of the desk confirmed that the pages of notes had been torn out. I put the notebook back. “We’re on our own, I think. Mom had to have been the one who tore it out.”

“I don’t know,” Haven said. “They’re getting awfully physical.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think invisible hands did this. I think Mom and whatever is taking her over did.”

At a loss, we headed back downstairs. Haven’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and his shoulders slumped when he read the text message.

“I guess it’s time for me to go,” he said. His smile was forced. “Call if you hear anything else.”

“Will do.” Grant said.

I followed him to the door. “Listen, you can always blame me if your grandma gives you a hard time.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. She always gives me a hard time.”

I wondered if Bryan had anything to do with the text message, but I didn’t ask. It had come so close to Bryan’s departure, it wouldn’t surprise me.

“Well, I’ll see you on Monday then.”

“Definitely.”

He left, and Grant flopped onto the couch, loading another movie in. “His grandma’s a mean old bat, but he’ll be alright.”

I sat down next to him and sighed. “I feel bad getting him in trouble.”

Grant shrugged. “He told me not to worry about it, so I’m not going to. We’ve got enough.”

The movie started, and I poked Grant’s shoulder. “You’ll tell me tomorrow if you don’t sleep well, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not Mom, you know.”

I tapped a foot and crossed my arms, giving him a fair imitation of her impatient face.

He laughed. “All right. I’ll let you know.”

“Good. I want to make sure all that gritting my teeth and making nice to Bryan was worth it.”

My brother put on a good face, but I saw the apprehension in his tense shoulders and the glances he kept sliding upstairs. This had better work.

***

Sunday confirmed Grant slept better, since he didn’t emerge from his room until noon. Probably for the best, because by then Mom was up and had commandeered me into helping her clean the third floor.

When we first climbed the stairs, armed with buckets, mops, rags, and brooms, I thought the sight that greeted me might have been what the end of the world would look like. When I’d been up here with Grant weeks before, it had been dark and we hadn’t stayed long. Down the length of the third floor stretched a long, narrow hallway, with wood paneling halfway up and cracked, peeling burgundy wallpaper on the rest. Dirt and papers littered the corners, and the alcoves, set in the center, were piled high with old chairs and boxes.

And just as I remembered, every door on the third floor locked from the outside only.

I started sweeping the hall, and thought I’d done a decent job of controlling myself, other than the prickling feeling of being watched.

I don’t think the goose bumps left my arms the entire five hours I spent helping her sort through boxes of trash and junk. Diaries, medical records, doctor’s bills, and random pieces of yellowed and mouse-nibbled paper littered every available surface in the rooms.

I picked up a dusty journal, the leather binding cracked and brittle with age. The writing was hard to read at first, the old-fashioned loops and swirls faded. The entry described the woman’s day, trapped in her room, tormented by the ghosts of her past that had sent her here.

I laid the book back on the edge of the cot gently. This was not a happy place.

Every time I touched a door handle I had to bite my lips to keep from screaming. The metal was cold to the touch. Cold enough that if I hung on too long, I believed it would burn me. We found hospital beds with sheets turned gray with age. A few still had strange copper stains that turned my stomach. I didn’t want to think about what those might have been.

Mom didn’t seem to care one way or another. She cooed over stoic photographs of men in starched shirts and women with waists too tiny to be healthy. Every once in a while I would find her standing, reading a paper or diary, stroking the necklace like someone pets a cat. It unnerved me even more than I already was. When I heard Grant stir downstairs, I begged her to break for lunch. I’d reached the end of my tether.

She agreed, and I went back to grab the last box from the room I had almost finished cleaning. The air was cooler here, and I stooped to grab the box from the corner of the room. Without warning I shivered, and the feeling of being watched grew unbearable. My stomach knotted. I knew I wasn’t alone anymore and it wasn’t Mom behind me. Slowly, I straightened and turned around. On the edge of the tiny cot, her head cradled in her hands, was a thin, dark-haired woman. With the little girl, menace had oozed off her form. This one pulled at my heart. Her shoulders shook with sobs I could just barely hear in my head. They were the gut-wrenching cries of someone who had lost everything. I reached out with one hand, the need to comfort her overwhelming.

Instead of going through, my fingers touched a solid mass. Cool and dry, like paper. Shock jolted through me, and the emotions that came from her were overwhelming. Pain. Sadness. Sickness. Hysteria. Fear. The fear was enough to bring me to my knees. At the weight of my fingers, she glanced up and my sorrow turned to terror.

The spirit’s mouth opened, a wide, dark “o” that stretched as if she would swallow the world. Her eyes were completely black, but not colored. They seemed not to be there: empty hollows sucking in light. The sobs stopped, and a muttering began in my head. I fell back with a stifled scream, but she didn’t let me go. Her hand clamped on mine, trapping it against her thigh. My fingers went numb from the mixture of static and cold that came from her.

“L-let me go.”

Mad laughter echoed through my head, and her form winked out. My hand whacked the edge of the bed and made the metal frame rattle against the wall. I fell backwards on the floor as tears streamed down my face. Mom walked in, her brow drawn into a worried frown.

“What’s the matter?”

My whole body quaked with the revulsion and fear that consumed me. “Didn’t you see—” I stopped as her expression hardened and changed again. It wouldn’t matter, she wasn’t going to believe me. I shook my head. “N-nothing. I j-just saw a spider.”

Mom made a disgusted snort and grabbed the box I’d come for. “Go eat some lunch and calm yourself. There’s sure to be more where that came from. Honestly, you’ve never been such a chicken before.”

I didn’t question her words or harsh tone. All that mattered was getting out of the room and downstairs. While I wanted to run away, I didn’t. I would have fallen if I’d tried. My body trembled, and my knees were jelly.

The whole house seemed darker, as if by opening those rooms we’d released something which should have stayed under lock and key. I poured some soda in a glass and gulped it, let the burning bubbles reassure me I was still here.

Despite the cool glass under my fingertips and the condensation that dampened them, I could still feel that papery flesh.

In a moment of weakness, I pulled my cell from my pocket and punched in Haven’s number. His grandmother answered the phone.

“Hello. This is Claire. Could I speak to Haven?”

“He’s out.”

“Oh, I didn’t think he might be working. He told me he had a weekend job.” I cleared my throat. “Could you have him call after?”

“Weekend job?” A surprised bark of sarcastic laughter made me pull the phone away from my ear. “Yes, his job. I’ll see if he’s gotten his chores done, and then he can call you.”

“Thanks. I mean, thank you, ma’am.”

The other end went dead and I put the phone down with a sigh. Haven had no weekend job. So what was he doing instead? I swallowed another large mouthful of soda and took a seat at the island. I should eat, but my appetite had left. Her eyes seemed burned into the back of my eyelids, and each time I blinked, my heart raced a little more…

Grant wandered in, rummaged through the fridge and turned around, opening a carton of orange juice and pouring it into his open mouth.

“Ew. Use a glass, man.”

He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Why? It’s not even touching my lips. No backwash, no foul.”

“Thanks. Now I’m not only terrified, I’m grossed out.”

“Terrified? Now what?”

Guilt weighed me down. Grant didn’t need new nightmares. I shook my head. “Mom and I have been cleaning upstairs, and she’s super into everything we find. It’s creepy.”

He put back the juice and grabbed a bagel off the counter, tossing it into the toaster oven. “You knew that would happen. What’s up there anyway?”

Despite my best intentions, I shivered. “Junk. Hospital beds. Papers and diaries and personal items.” I rested my chin on my palm. “Promise you won’t go up there alone.”

He raised a brow and dropped his chin. “Do I look stupid to you? Wait—you’re my sister, don’t answer.”

A laugh escaped, despite everything. If we kept our interactions with the upper floors to a minimum, maybe the spirits wouldn’t find their way downstairs. Even as I thought it, I knew it was a pipe dream. It was just a matter of time.

***

It was sad to think school had become my refuge, but as I leapt from the car Monday morning, it was the truth. The rules in high school were pretty easy. Stay in the background, and no one cared what you did. It was a philosophy I whole-heartedly subscribed to. The routine of class helped to calm me, and allowed my brain to become unattached from the turmoil of home. The two girls in my project group chattered about the latest school gossip through the first period. A rumor about two girls making out at a party on Saturday night. I nodded and scoffed at the appropriate times, but I didn’t pay much attention. Bryan tried to catch my eye, and I studiously avoided him between classes. I didn’t know what to say to him. The longer I put it off, the darker the look on his face became.

I thought I’d done pretty well, until right before the last period of the day. After third block, Bryan cornered me in the back hall on my way to French. His face screwed into an angry scowl. “What are you doing, Claire?”

“I was on my way to class.”

“You know what I mean! You can’t lead me on and expect me to disappear when you get what you want.”

Confusion made me stare. “I’m sorry, do you mean when I pushed you out of the house?”

“Do you really think this innocent act will work? You call me, apologize, ask me over to fix your problem. Then you flirt with me, and when you get what you want, you kick me out and throw yourself at Haven. It’s uncalled for.”

“Throw myself at Haven?” I raised a brow. “Were we in the same house? Did you hit your head? You came over and did me a favor, and then you were too into whatever the spirits were telling you. If I hadn’t kicked you out when I did, who knows what would have happened! I didn’t ask you there to torture you.”

“How would you know what they told me? Maybe it wasn’t bad. Maybe it would have helped you.” His expression turned to one of hurt.

“But it wasn’t helpful.”

He spoke over me. “Of course you didn’t. You were too busy flirting with Haven.”

“I was upstairs with you the whole time!”

He didn’t seem to have heard a word I said. “You know what the worst of all this is? I really care about you.” He moved closer, and I took an involuntary step backward. The intensity on his face unnerved me. He stared as if I was the only thing on the planet, and I had betrayed him.

“There’s been a huge miscommunication, Bryan. What you did for Grant and me this weekend was nothing short of fantastic. But that’s as far as my gratitude goes.” I took another small step back and pressed myself against the cool cinderblock wall. Bryan’s eyes flashed with anger. I’d never been afraid of a boy before, but Bryan was beginning to change that. His moods were like the wind.

“I would do anything for you, Claire. Yet you throw it back in my face by continuing to spend your time with Haven.”

“I don’t understand what talking to Haven has anything to do with our friendship.” I straightened my spine and took a deep breath. I’d faced worse things than a jealous teenager. “Or what it has to do with you at all, actually. We’ve had this discussion before.”

He stared. “You don’t? It’s a betrayal. He’s my enemy.”

The note from him flashed in my mind. My temper rose. “You aren’t my mother or my boyfriend, Bryan. I can speak to whoever I want. He’s been nothing but nice. Honestly, if we’re going to point fingers and get upset, I’d like to know what you have against him.”

“It’s personal. Family business.”

“Yeah, I figured. I know what split your family down the middle, and I think it’s ridiculous to carry old grudges this far. I’ll ask you to leave me out of it. And if you ever leave another note like that on my door, I’ll have to show it to someone.”

I turned away, but his hand seized my elbow. His fingers dug hard into my flesh and I winced.

“I doubt you know the full story. Ask Haven about his mother sometime. It should be quite an educational experience for you. Can’t you see? I’m trying to help you.”

“You’re trying to help you. I suppose you think I hadn’t caught wind of the whole Spirit Searchers plan?” He flinched, his fingers relaxing. I wanted to smack him. “I’m not stupid, Bryan. You need a better reason to be friends with me than to get in my house besides your little ghost hunt.”

“There are spirits there! You know it. You begged me to come fix Grant’s room for you!”

I jerked my arm away. “And I appreciate your help, but don’t mistake it for anything else. I know more about spirits and psychics than you think I do, Bryan. Some things need to stay as they are. Now, I’m going to be late for my next class, so get out of my way.”

I stomped off, my heart slamming in my throat and the skin beneath my backpack itching. At any moment, I expected Bryan to follow. With a tiny slip, my psychic barriers opened a bit and I searched for his mind.

Black, seething rage and frustration made my vision blank out. I gasped, throwing out my arms as my body tilted forward.

Strong arms closed around me and a soft “oof” followed. I blinked again, panting, my vision bouncing back. The familiar smell of cologne tickled my nose and I almost groaned.

“I know I’ve got the whole animal magnetism thing going on, but this is a bit ridiculous,” Haven said, his hands staying on my shoulders until I had my feet back under me.

My face burned. “Sorry. I…ah…tripped.”

“No problem. You okay?”

I resisted the urge to turn around and look at Bryan. All the same, Haven seemed to know my thoughts. His hands tightened on my arms, and his head turned in the direction I’d just come from.

“Do I need to speak to Bryan?” His lips were a tight line.

“Leave it,” I said. “We just had a bit of a disagreement.”

Haven’s gaze met mine. The feeling of being seen came over me again. Each time was more intense than the last, and yet I didn’t seem to mind. It made me feel safe. Secure.

The differences between the two of them couldn’t be more pronounced. But despite what my heart said, my head screamed a warning. Though I didn’t want to admit it, Bryan’s words pushed a button. Haven told me a great deal. But he hadn’t told me everything. Neither one of them were going to use me as a pawn in their private battle.

I pushed away from him and shot him a tight smile. “Thanks again for catching me before I face planted. I’ll see you later.”

Without giving him a chance to protest, I hurried around the corner and into my French classroom. Neither was in my class that period, for which I was eternally grateful. Right now, I needed a few minutes to get my shaking hands and breathing under control.

We had a substitute, who droned on about the reading assignment for the day. Mr. Clarence had written it on the board. I pulled it out, opening it to the assigned page, and pretended to read. For once, I was glad Haven took Spanish. I couldn’t have handled the questions. The words on the page blurred, slipping and sliding until I couldn’t make out anything. Bryan’s behavior scared me. What did he really want—me or access to the house? What did he think a ghost hunt there would accomplish?

Then there was the rage and frustration I’d seen in him. The thought of it made me shake all over again. Never in my life, not even those awful days when I’d been unable to shut out anything living or dead, had I experienced anything as intense. Never wanted to again.

There was nothing in the house for him to want. The boxes we’d managed to get through were full of strange things. Old books, notes, files, signage, bandages, and drawings. Some things seemed innocuous—monotonous lists of supplies, paperwork and blank forms never filled out. Some made my skin crawl for no reason. Like the porcelain dolls we’d found, and the drawings of contorted bodies and nightmare scenes done with amazing skill. Could he really be so obsessed with the paranormal that merely the idea of the haunted house put him over the edge?

Not likely. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered how much of the story I was missing. With an effort, I lifted the textbook and forced my eyes to the page. I needed to think about something else.

I needed more information.

Chapter Eighteen

Things came to a head after school a few weeks after the incident in the third floor. Grant had gone to the library in town with friends to work on a history project, and I waited at the curb for Mom. She’d promised to come and pick me up.

The buses pulled out, and I dropped to the pavement with a sigh.

“Need a ride?” Haven sat down next to me. “Or someone to talk to?”

I scrubbed my face with a hand. “I can walk home.”

He snorted.

“Well, I could. I didn’t say it was a good idea.”

Haven stayed silent. The air was beginning to hold the chill of fall, and my sweater wasn’t warm enough. I wanted to lean into his warmth, but I didn’t.

“Are you going to tell me what’s eating at you?” Haven asked, his voice almost a whisper.

A bitter laugh surprised me. “I have so many things taking chunks from me, I feel like a piece of meat in a piranha attack.”

“Not a pretty visual.”

I shrugged.

He fell silent. Somehow, his silence coerced me into spilling my guts. “My life is an even bigger disaster than it was before we moved here. Which is saying a lot.”

Tears threatened, and I sniffed. “Mom is gone. I can’t tell anymore if she’s even still in there. That’s how well the spirits have dug into her. Like a tick. Grant’s better, but now I can’t sleep. The dreams…” My mind flooded with images I didn’t want to remember and I ground the heels of my hands into my eyes. My voice caught. “They hurt like a physical pain.”

“What can I do to help?”

I paused, unsure I wasn’t making a big mistake. But Haven was a part of my life I could try to get a handle on. “Please tell me the truth, Haven. Where do you really sneak off to?”

As fast as he’d offered comfort, he withdrew. His arm held me close, but the warmth was gone. Tears leaked from beneath my eyelids as my heart hit the pavement.

“Forget it. You don’t have to tell me. After all, we’re not dating. We’re just friends. Secrets are perfectly acceptable.”

The words fell like poison from my mouth, and I pressed my fingers against my lips before anymore slipped out. I couldn’t look at him, and I suddenly couldn’t stand his touch either. I got up, needing to be away from everyone.

“Claire!”

I didn’t turn. I kept walking, my gaze fixed on the cement, my feet moving as fast as they could carry me. I don’t know when I started to run, I only knew there was a wild feeling trapped in my chest and it needed to let loose, or I would wind up the same as before, my mind open and laid raw for the world.

It wouldn’t happen again. Not this time. I jogged until I was so out of breath the cool air stung my lungs, then I slowed. The unexpected run had taken the edge off my feeling of trapped panic.

A car slowed behind me, then pulled into a crawl next to me. Haven rolled down the window of the white mustang. “Claire, this is stupid. You can’t walk all the way home.”

I ignored him.

“Claire!”

I sped up and he revved the engine, roaring down the road in front of me. Disappointment flooded me. Somewhere deep down, I’d hoped he’d try harder. At the last minute, he whipped the car into the driveway in front of me. The engine died and he climbed out of the car. His face drew into a frown.

“Claire Mallory, you are one of the most confusing girls I’ve ever met.”

I braced myself for the rest of the diatribe that would end in some crushing put-down.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You are also the only girl I’ve ever felt like this around. I can help, but I can’t fix all your problems. But I can fix one.” He sighed and ran both hands through his hair. “I see you, Claire, all the time. In my present and my future. It’s part of the reason I’ve tried to keep from getting too close to you. And part of the reason I can’t seem to stop myself.”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“I liked you when I saw you the first day. You were sweet, funny, and you were nice to me. Then I got to know you, because you didn’t have any use for the way the others ignored me. I liked you. A lot. I think that’s pretty clear.”

“I got all this, Haven. What are you trying to say?”

“I want to date you, Claire.”

Confusion warred with pleasure. I chose to focus on the way he’d sidestepped my question. “How did we get here? What does this have to do with where you disappear to?”

“We’ve both been keeping secrets. Every time I look into the future to see where you and I end up, there’s a big fuzzy blur. It always starts with telling you my secret, so I just didn’t.” Haven stretched out one hand. “You want to what I’m hiding?”

Cautious, I stood there, thinking about it. I didn’t want to lose Haven’s friendship, and whatever else he might be offering but I couldn’t continue wondering either. He was willing to answer my questions when it was clear he didn’t want to. Many emotions traveled across his face, fear among them. Fear of me? Of what I might think? Having the roles reversed wasn’t as much fun as I’d imagined it might be. I took the hand he offered.

“Be prepared,” he said, tugging my hand. “It isn’t as bad as the rumors say. But it isn’t easy, either.”

I let him pull me to his car and climbed inside. He didn’t say anything, and I fiddled with my ring, spinning it around my finger, forming and discarding a thousand different sentences.

A few minutes later, he pulled into a paved driveway which opened into a large parking lot. I stared up at the faded red brick of the Pine Grove retirement home and bit the inside of my cheek. Dread and shame swirled in my belly and coated my tongue. This was what I asked for and I had to see it through.

He cut the engine and we got out, silently making our way to the door and inside. He nodded to the receptionist, who smiled warmly and chirped a greeting. She nodded to me. “Is this the girl you’ve been talking about?”

The tips of his ears turned as red as his cheeks. “Yes. Claire, this is Mrs. Pomeroy. Mrs. Pomeroy, Claire Mallory.”

She reached over the desk, giving me a firm handshake. Her smile remained kind, but there was a calculating glint to her eye. “I’m very pleased to meet you. Haven’s never brought a friend by before.”

I glanced back at Haven, but he offered no help. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Pomeroy.”

“You two run along.” She tapped her neatly manicured nail on the counter. The smile moved back to her eyes. “It will do her some good to see you with a young lady, Haven.”

“Um, sure. I’ll see you later,” he mumbled and seized my hand again. His palms were damp, betraying his nerves where his expression did not. My heart ached for him. Whoever this was, they were important to him.

Mrs. Pomeroy’s words echoed in my head. The first person he’d brought? Ever? Big shoes to fill. Big expectations.

Nervous butterflies made me sick to my stomach. I didn’t understand what kind of judgment he thought I might pass on this experience. I was terrified he would be right—this might be a test I’d somehow fail.

The halls smelled like old people, perfume, and disinfectant. Despite that, it was neat and clean, and lacked the depressing miasma of melancholy that sometimes hovered inside such places. At the end of a short hallway, Haven took a left and stopped in front of a yellow door decorated with a brass number twenty-one and a framed picture of a mountain.

“Last chance to run, Claire.” His voice cracked when he said my name. His fingers ruffled his shaggy hair, and he kept his eyes locked on the shiny metal numbers.

My fingertips brushed his cheek. “Haven.”

He didn’t look up. I slid my palm against his face and gently forced him to look at me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he stared into my eyes, and I had the curious sensation of falling. Doubt still lingered in the shadowy places of his mind. My lips twisted into a crooked smile. “Everyone has secrets, Haven. Some good, some bad. I’m privileged you would share this one with me.” I inhaled and exhaled slowly. “And I suppose that I owe you an explanation too.”

“That’s not why I brought you here.”

I released him. “That’s why I’ll tell you. I shouldn’t have pushed you in the first place.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “You are a strange bird, Claire Mallory.”

“So they tell me.”

He took another deep breath, turned the knob, and opened the door. Inside, the walls were a soft baby blue. The furniture was what Mom called “early attic,” but it was well kept, and pictures hung everywhere. A thin woman with streaks of gray in her honey-colored hair sat in an armchair, a romance novel pinched between two fingers.

“Haven!” She slid a bookmark into the page and jumped up, wrapping her arms around him. This close, I could see the resemblance.

He returned her hug and pulled away, his face flushed again. He motioned to me. “This is—”

“Claire Mallory.” She enveloped me in a brief hug, a brilliant smile on her face. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”

He didn’t seem the least bit surprised she knew my name. I smiled. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Elliott.”

A frown appeared. “I’m Lenore Pearson.” Her eyes seemed far away. “But I suppose I was Elliott once. A long time ago. At least, Vale says it’s true.”

Vale? Who was she talking about?

Haven touched her arm and she blinked, her smile returning. “Take a seat, please! Tell me how things are going. Haven only tells me what he thinks I need to hear.”

She scooted an ottoman from in front of the armchair and perched in front of us. “So what brings you here? I doubt it’s a social call.”

Haven shifted in his seat, his fingers worrying the piped edging of the couch. “We need to ask you a question, Mom, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her smile turned softer, and she patted his hand with a sigh. “Honey, I know you wouldn’t. You are—”

Her head tilted, and her gaze softened, stared out between Haven and me to some place far beyond the plaster of the wall. Her expression changed to one so sad it made my heart squeeze. A tear escaped down the woman’s face, and her shoulders slumped.

“It’s time, isn’t it, Vale? Why does it always come back to this?”

Haven caught my eye and gave a tiny shake of his head. Neither of us moved. Slowly, Mrs. Elliott’s face turned to me. Her thin fingers curled around my hand squeezed them tightly.

“I’m not always here, you know. Most of the time, I’m somewhere else.”

“Where?” I whispered, despite the dread.

“Everywhere. Nowhere. That’s what it’s like once you let it inside. Once you let it touch your mind.” Her eyes focused on my face as her hands tightened to the point of pain. “You must not allow it inside, Claire. You think you’re weak. The time you spent with the psychiatrist, you think you did something wrong…It’s not what you think. You’re stronger than the rest of us. So much stronger. You have to believe it. It’s all about belief. Always has been. You can’t imagine the consequences if you can’t do this.”

Ice ran through my veins. There was nothing faraway or insane in Mrs. Elliott’s eyes. They were the clear, sane eyes of someone who had seen something horrible. And I knew if I asked, Mrs. Elliott would show me.

I didn’t ask. I had a pretty good idea what I would see. I’d been seeing a version in my sleep for days. I knew right now, I didn’t want the reality. Not yet.

Mrs. Elliott smiled, and one hand cupped my cheek before falling away. “You see? You’re already so much further than I was. I believed too much too soon, and here I am.”

She tilted her head again, her eyes closed for a moment. When she opened them again, it was clear she was back in the fog that clouded her sanity most of the time. Something or someone had broken the barrier between reality and vision in her mind, and she couldn’t distinguish between them anymore.

“What were we talking about?” A crease formed between her eyebrows and she glanced between Haven and me with an anxious frown. “I went away again, didn’t I?”

I smiled. “You did, but you’re back now. How about some lunch?”

From the corner of her eye, I saw Haven blink and then a small smile flicker across his mouth. When his mom jumped to her feet to slide into some shoes, his hand slid across the couch to touch mine.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

Chapter Nineteen

I stood next to the car, my hands thrust into the pockets of my coat. The wind played with my hair. I stared at the building we’d left, my head cocked to the side.

“What are you thinking about?” Haven leaned against the passenger door next to me.

I didn’t look at him. “You are much more than anyone gives you credit for.”

“More what?”

Shrugging, I glanced at him. “Just…more.”

He reached out; his fingertips grazed my cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thank you for being so nice to Mom. I appreciate it.”

“Your mother is a sweet woman.”

“Sweet, but not on the planet.”

“No.” I struggled to put my thoughts into words. “I think she’s too aware of everything. Talking to her, I could tell the barriers that keep the supernatural and the normal worlds are gone. Like someone tore them down. Now she drifts wherever the moment takes her, and she doesn’t know what’s there and what isn’t.”

Haven rubbed a hand over his face and released a long breath. “You can see it too. For so long, I thought I’d made it all up to feel better.”

“Only one thing I don’t get. Well, two.”

“What?”

“Who is Vale? And why here? Why isn’t she at home? She doesn’t seem like she’s a danger to herself.”

His shoulders sagged. “We tried at home for a while, but she wanders sometimes. Once we searched all day and found her eight miles in the woods. Afterward, the home seemed like a better choice. As for Vale…I think he’s my father. Or was. I think he’s dead now.”

“You’re not sure?”

One shoulder lifted then fell as he studied the ground intensely. “Mom never talked about him much, but she talks to him all the time. I think he’s dead and watching over her. Sometimes, I think even I get a whiff of him occasionally. But he’s never made himself clear to me.”

I giggled, then laughed until tears streamed down my cheeks. Haven stiffened, his frown slicing across his face. “Really? You think this all a joke?”

I shook my head and caught at his arm. “We’re quite a pair, Haven. My mother is a divorcee who’s obsessed with a cursed haunted house whose ghosts who want to eat us. Things from nightmares want to suck out my soul. Your mom already knows what waits for us, but can’t tell us, and your grandmother is in denial about everything. We’re practically a match made in heaven!”

His frown lightened, but didn’t leave. “I still don’t find this a laughing matter.”

“I know.” I wiped at my face. Tears burned behind my eyes. “But for me, Haven, it’s either laugh or I’ll cry until there are no tears left for anything else.”

He opened his arms and pulled me against his chest. I slid my hands up his back and tightened them, clinging to him. As though he might keep the world from crashing on top of us. It would, soon enough. Everything teetered on the edge of disaster. Only a little tap would send the world crashing into a million pieces. Worse, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

“So is the future any clearer now?” I whispered.

He was silent for a moment, but I thought I felt him smile against my hair. “I can’t tell you. Haven’t looked.”

“Why not?”

“Sometimes seeing the future isn’t as much fun as you’d think.”

There was nothing I could say to that.

“Don’t worry so much, Claire. You can’t change anything if you do, so why put out all the energy?”

“Easier said than done.” I was silent a moment, focusing on his heartbeat thumping under my cheekbone. “Will she be safe?”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure he understood the question. Finally, I felt him nod and press a kiss to my forehead. “I think so. Vale, whoever he might or might not be, is like her guardian angel. She’s as safe as she can be.”

This was the harder part. “You can walk away now, Haven, and I would understand. After all this, I can’t expect you to ever come near my house again.”

He pushed me back, and I didn’t look up until his hands slid beneath my chin and exerted gentle pressure. His eyes glittered with offense and warmth. It made me feel safe.

“If you ever say anything like that again, I’ll have to take serious action. I’m not leaving you alone there and abandoning you.”

“Why?”

He paused, his throat bobbing. I could see him choosing and discarding several explanations. Finally, he sighed. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

My heart somersaulted in my chest. Tears threatened again and I wrapped my arms around his neck. Something bright burned at the thought of him, but I couldn’t put words to it. It was new and delicate, an emotion to be thought over and strengthened before I mentioned it. As he bent his head to kiss me, I whispered, “You always have the right answers, don’t you?”

If he noticed I didn’t return the words, it didn’t show. His arms squeezed tighter around my waist as his lips teased mine, soft and full of all kinds of promises I didn’t really understand. When another engine roared to life nearby, we jumped apart.

My face flushed with heat. “So, now what?”

Grinning, Haven checked his watch. “Well, your brother is probably about ready to leave the library. Shall we go get him?”

Haven opened the passenger door for me, and then climbed in on the other side. “Thanks, for bringing me. But before we go too far, I need to tell you something.”

He linked his fingers through mine once he’d started the car and backed out of the parking spot. “Okay. Spill it.”

“What your Mom said to me, about what happened before?”

He nodded.

“Two years ago, I kind of had this weird psychic overload thing happen. I can’t really explain how it happened. I don’t really understand it myself. Everyone assumed I had some kind of psychotic break. Normally, I just talk to ghosts. Only sometimes can I hear people’s thoughts and sense emotions. I’d been checking out all these books, talking to a couple of other girls who said they were psychic. Trying to control it, and I thought I was doing a great job of,” I made air quotes with my fingers. “Expanding my horizons.”

I paused, gulped at the air and ignored the nerves churning in my stomach. “Something snapped one day. I tried this experiment. Something about focusing on one person to hear their thoughts or something. And suddenly I could hear everything. Every thought of everyone who came into a room with me. My old school was next to a funeral home and ghosts have a lot to say and never need to sleep. And when they know you can hear them…”

“Go on.”

I took a deep breath and released it slowly. I wanted to give him a secret like what he’d given me. Something to prove I trusted him as well. “Think about it. An entire day of teenage thoughts and ghostly mutterings you can’t block out? Not cool. A week of it almost did drive me nuts. And I guess they convinced me too. I mean, I told them I knew what they were thinking, and even when I was right, and I know I was, they pretended like I lied. They didn’t want it to be true. They couldn’t explain it. So they put me in a psych ward for three days and medicated me. I had to see a shrink for almost a year.”

His fingers tightened around my hand. “What else?”

It was easier to say the words if I kept my gaze on the tips of my shoes. “Mom believed me, at first. Her grandmother used to have some kind of talent like mine. But Dad”—I swallowed past the anger clogging my throat—“He didn’t want to. He and the doctors convinced her I was mental. Because he knew what it’d mean if I were actually psychic.”

“What would it mean?”

“My father had a lot of affairs, Haven. I’d already stopped him once and told him I knew what was going on. I bluffed the details—I didn’t know that much, and didn’t want to find out. But he knew I wouldn’t keep quiet about it if I found out again. He encouraged the idea I was crazy until a few weeks after I’d finally started palming the pills and convincing the shrink nothing happened. I waited up for him.”

“He’d been at a work conference, or so he’d told us. And he had, at least for the first few days. But when you can see everything people are thinking, it doesn’t exclude your family. I saw clear as day in his mind what he’d been doing and with whom. I wanted to wash my brain out with soap, but not before I made my position on the matter clear. I waited up for him. We knew he wouldn’t be home from the airport until well into the early hours of the morning.”

“I curled in a wing chair in the living room and watched him put his shoes and coat away, loosen his tie, and then I spoke up. I described some of the very intimate things he’d done with his latest conquest, and then I told him he needed to decide what he wanted, because if I found out anything else, I’d make it my mission in life to tell everyone.”

“He didn’t like that, I guess?”

“He laughed at first, told me no one would believe me. I told him when you’re psychic, you can find out all kinds of things.” My face flushed at the memory of some of the things I’d said. “I told him I’d ruin his life. And I meant every word, though I’m not sure I could have done it. By then, things were getting better. I’d learned to turn it off and keep it off for the most part. After, we kept our distance. It wasn’t long before Mom found out on her own. He believes I told her, but to be honest, it was his own stupidity. I didn’t have to say a word. It wasn’t one of my finer moments.”

Haven was silent a moment. “I’m sorry. Losing a parent is one thing. But losing them to their own idiocy and vanity is another thing entirely.”

“Yes. It is.”

We stopped in front of the library. I pulled out my phone and texted Grant to let him know we were outside. I twisted in the seat to stare at Haven again. “You know, most people would have focused on the pills, psych ward, and shrink.”

Haven grinned. “You’re my girl now, remember? According to everyone who matters in high school, that makes you certifiable.” He winked. “Besides, I already knew you were nuts.”

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth that spread through me at his words couldn’t be ignored. His girl. The words rolled around inside my head, and I struggled to keep a wide smile off my face. I liked the sound of it.

Grant pushed open the door to the library, a scowl pulling his features. As he opened the back passenger door, the reason became obvious. Bryan followed, but whatever he might have intended to say to Grant was lost when he spotted me in Haven’s car.

I noted his hands curled into fists before he shoved them in his coat pockets and walked to my door. Despite my wish that he’d walk away, he knocked on the glass.

Haven didn’t release his grip on my other hand as I rolled down the window. Bryan’s eyes fell on our tangled fingers, and something ugly flashed in his eyes. My heart beat faster. The look of pure loathing he couldn’t quite cover made me want to get as far away as I could.

“I see you’ve made your choice.” He spat. “A bad one, though I might sound biased.”

“Bryan, you and I were friends. Never anything more.”

He took a deep breath, getting his anger under control. “I’ll come over and we can discuss this later.”

I bristled at his condescension. “We have nothing to discuss. I know what I want, and I made my choice.”

Disgust dripped from every word. “You say that now, but don’t come crying to me when things don’t end well. He’s bad news.”

Haven leaned over, tension thrumming through his body. He looked up at Bryan, and from this angle, I couldn’t quite see his expression. His voice was cold and hard. “You might want to rethink what you say to my girlfriend. Some of the other guys might ignore you, but I’ll rearrange your face.”

Grant piped up from the backseat. “I’ll help.”

Bryan’s gaze flicked between the two of us and he stepped back. “You watch your step. I haven’t lied.”

Haven’s fingers reached for the seatbelt, but I shoved at his chest. “Forget him. He’s not worth it.”

I turned back to Bryan, and almost felt bad when I saw the pain on his face. Almost. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Claire Mallory. But you’ll find out soon enough.” Then it turned up into a snarl.

Haven’s body jerked, and he muttered a curse. I tightened my hands on his again when he unsnapped his seatbelt.

“He wants you to cause a scene. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

“He went way beyond being a jerk, Claire. That was a threat.”

Grant popped his head between us from the backseat. “I have to side with Claire on this one. Despite how much I’d enjoy holding him while you beat the snot out of him, he’s waiting for you to do it. He’s been harassing me the whole time I was in there about you two, and his friends are waiting inside for you to make a move.”

I caught Haven’s cheek in my palm and turned his face away from where he glared at Bryan. “Please, can we go home?”

“This isn’t over yet, you know.”

I sighed, but my heartbeat began to slow when he re-hooked the seatbelt and clasped my hand again. “Let it be. Eventually they’ll find someone else to pick on.”

Haven gave a non-committal grunt.

He pulled out into traffic, and as we passed Bryan, I caught the reflection of Grant making an obscene gesture in the side-view mirror. I chose not to say anything.

“So are you finally official now?”

“Finally?” Haven’s lips twitched.

He gave a heavy sigh. “You’ve been mooning over each other for weeks. It’s about time. The rest of the world was getting kind of tired of waiting.”

Haven laughed. “Sorry to have inconvenienced you. Next time, I’ll be sure to make a move sooner.”

I laughed, but my mind was still stuck on the look in Bryan’s eyes. He frightened me, and I worried about what might happen if he decided to “talk things over” at the house later. Bringing it up to Haven wouldn’t be a good idea. His body was still rigid with anger, and his hand clasped mine tightly.

If I didn’t want him to get into a fight with Bryan, this was something I’d have to deal with on my own. Hopefully, he would stay away. How much could he really want to talk to me now anyway?

Mom’s car was already gone by the time Haven parked in front of the house. He cut the engine and reluctantly released my hand so we could get out. The sun set behind the house, silhouetting the shape against a blood red sky. It should have looked pretty. Instead, it made me shiver.

“You two can whisper sweet nothings, but I’m starved.” Grant tossed his book bag over a shoulder and heading for the steps. “Don’t take too long, or I’ll have to whip out my ninja skills on lover boy. To save your virtue or something.”

Haven chuckled and shook his head as Grant took the front steps two at a time and went inside. His gaze returned to mine, and the laughter died from his face. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He pressed a kiss to my lips. “I feel bad leaving you here. If anything happens call. With the house, or with Bryan.”

“He won’t come back.”

Haven shook his head and ran a hand down my hair. “You don’t know what Bryan’s like. When we were kids, he would break a toy he couldn’t have just so no one else could play with it. I don’t want you to be the next toy.”

His words made me tremble, and another thought crossed my mind. “Haven, you haven’t seen anything I should be worried about, have you?”

I didn’t think he’d answer at first. His gaze slid to the house, then back to me. “Not anything real. Only a bad dream I can’t quite remember. Be careful.”

“It’s going to be fine.” I glanced down at his wrist. “You better get going or your Grandma’s going to kill you.”

With a curse, he pressed another kiss to my lips and then strode back to the car. “Be careful.”

I nodded, and he climbed back in the car, waiting until I walked to the front door before waving and backing out of the driveway. Inside, I could hear the TV.

“Thank God. I was afraid if you two stayed out there longer than five minutes, I might really have to break the two of you up.” Grant glanced at me from the sofa. “I like Haven, but the last thing I want to do is see the two of you sucking face.”

I rolled my eyes. “We weren’t, thank you very much. Just talking.”

I moved into the kitchen, where a foil-wrapped pan rested on the counter. Notes for heating the lasagna were on a list pad next to it. I squinted at the chicken scratch. Mom’s handwriting got messier every time I saw it. It used to be picture perfect, but lately seemed to be more like a prescription scrawl. With a grumble, I crumpled the paper and chucked it in the trash. I flipped on the stove, slid the pan in and set the timer.

“Are you really okay, Sis?”

I wiped some stray sauce from my fingers on a dishtowel while I thought about the answer. “No. Not really. But I will be.”

Grant leaned against the doorframe. “This place is way more complicated than I thought it would be.”

“You can say that again. I don’t know whether to deal with Bryan or this.” I swept my hand out, motioning to the house, “Or whether to ignore all of it.”

“Ignoring it hasn’t worked so far,” Grant grumbled. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What about you? How are you doing?”

He thought about it for a moment, and I noticed again how much older he seemed. He finally shook his head. “There are lots of things I don’t like, but I’ll be all right. School has evened out. I’ve found some friends. Mom and I have almost come to an understanding. The only problem is this place. It’s like living in a horror movie’s next shooting location.”

I laughed. “Nice.”

He shrugged. “It is, and you know it. Things go on here no one can explain. I don’t think anyone really wants to.”

Chapter Twenty

Everything was dark. I flipped the light switch several times, but there was no response. No power. Thunder growled in the distance, the sound vibrating through the floorboards into my feet. Of course there would be a storm.

Haven stood with his back to me at the end of the hall. He muttered and mumbled, but I couldn’t make out the words. I wanted to help, but dread coiled in my belly, making my steps heavy.

I didn’t want him to turn around.

In a blink, I was within arm’s reach of him. In the darkness, it was hard to see details. He turned, his face in shadow.

“You came,” he said. His voice was a guttural snarl. “It isn’t enough to show up. You have to help me.”

“Of course I’ll help you.” I said. But I took a step back as I spoke.

His hands seized my shoulders and lightning flashed. Haven’s eyes were black holes, oozing sludge. His mouth opened, and shadows slithered out like tentacles, latching onto my clothes and hair. Each place they touched burned with cold.

“You have to save me.”

I screamed, struggling against his hold. My arms felt like ice formed where his hands clasped me. With a last desperate push his hands fell away. I stumbled, spun around and raced down the hall.

“Save me. Save us.”

He sounded as if he hovered just behind me, but when I glanced over my shoulder he stood in the same place, tendrils of smoke and shadow enveloping him.

The front door was closed, and I wrapped both hands around it and yanked. It didn’t budge an inch. Deep laughter surrounded me. The sound made my skin crawl and I whimpered as I pounded and kicked at the door. It wasn’t one voice, but many. Men, women, children—all faceless and not.

I gave up, turned and ran for the back door. But when I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I stopped. Mom, Grant, Haven, Bryan, the little girl, the woman upstairs and others I did not recognize were there, waiting. Their eyes black as pitch. Their lips moved in unison.

“There is no escape, Claire Mallory. You will save us. Must save us. You are one of us. The strongest.”

“No!” I screamed, then turned. I would have sprinted from the room, but I stopped when a large mirror, ornate and old, appeared on the wall in front of me. My blood ran cold, and I couldn’t move. In the mirror I saw myself.

Black eyes, dead face, and smiling.

***

I woke with a start, my arms cold on the bare wood floor of Grant’s bedroom. I blinked in the pre-dawn light filtering through his windows. There were wet trails on my cheeks and I brushed them away with a shaking hand.

The last image of myself in that mirror seemed burned into my brain. I glanced at the red digital numbers on Grant’s nightstand across the room. Five a.m. I’d gotten a few hours of sleep. More than any other night in the last week.

My nightmares only grew worse. After a week of sleeping only when I couldn’t hold my head up at night I’d tried sleeping in Grant’s room on the floor. The nightmares had stayed terrifying but repetitive the last few nights. That was over, apparently. Though the wards kept Grant safe, they did not do the same for me.

I rubbed a hand over my face. My body ached with the need for real, dreamless sleep. It led to some tense days in school, and today wouldn’t be any different. So far, I’d managed not to fall asleep for more than few moments in class. Thank God. I guzzled energy drinks until my hands shook, all the while telling Haven and Grant everything was fine. Mom hadn’t seemed to notice anything different.

I got up, making sure not to wake Grant. One of us should get to sleep until the alarm. I got dressed and headed downstairs, figuring I could gulp down some coffee and make breakfast.

I checked the calendar on the fridge. October 15th. Fifteen days since the dreams started. Over a week since I’d slept more than a few hours. A chill moved over me, and I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms. October was not a good month for those of us who saw spirits. People were more open to the paranormal, and the more people who believed and who were looking, the more paranormal events took place. Ghosts, or some of them, thrived on the attention and the energy. I closed my eyes, sent up a silent prayer for relief, and jerked my head up when I swayed on my feet, dangerously close to hitting the ground. I took a seat on a stool at the island and laid my head on my hands. My head felt incredibly heavy. Just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt anything.

Grant woke me when he came down for school, and I heard my own desperate whimpers echoing in my ears as the beginning of the nightmare faded into my subconscious for the moment.

***

We got to school, and I waved off Grant’s concern and headed for class. Haven greeted me, watching me closely as I sat down. I wondered if Grant had texted him. There wasn’t time for him to question me. Mr. Larsen started class immediately.

After almost two weeks, I suppose something had to break. One moment I held a pencil, ready to take notes. The next, I woke screaming, with Haven and Mr. Larsen white as sheets.

“I think you need to go to the nurse, Claire.” Mr. Larsen swallowed hard. “You sounded like someone was killing you.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Larsen.” Under everyone’s horrified stares, my entire body flushed. “I’m fine, really.”

Haven’s lips compressed into a tight line, and he held out one hand. “I’ll take her.”

Bryan leaned over. “I can go too.”

I barely heard him. Haven’s eyes didn’t leave my face. He wouldn’t let me get out of this. I sighed, slid all my stuff in my book bag, and headed for the door. The entire class seemed to release a breath when I stepped into the hall.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” His voice sounded hoarse. Like he wanted to yell, but just barely kept himself in check.

“Only a few sleepless nights.”

Haven cut a glance at me. “Try again. The truth this time. I knew something was up, but I assumed you’d tell me, seeing as we’re supposed to be dating.”

Hurt, anger, and worry twined themselves in his tone. I never thought not telling him details would hurt his feelings. I didn’t want him to worry, and the image of him, with darkness pouring from his lips still haunted me. I was afraid of what he’d think if I told him.

“The nightmares have gotten worse. I’m afraid to sleep. I thought I could handle it.”

He stopped in the middle of the hall, several doors down from the nurse. “You’re going to kill me. How am I supposed to help you if you won’t tell me anything?”

“Haven, you can’t save me from my dreams.” Maybe there were better things to say, but I was too tired. My brain could hardly keep up with the process of getting through the day. “It will get better.”

“When?”

I didn’t answer right away, and I saw fear creep across Haven’s expression. “Think, Claire. The more tired you are, the more likely it is the spirits in your house can get what they want.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They want you to crack again, I think. If that happens, they can get inside your head to their hearts’ content. They did it to my mother, and they’ll do it to you, if they get the chance.”

My brain struggled to keep up. “I still don’t see what good it would do. What is it they think I can do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they just want you there with them. In my dreams, there’s the sense they’re waiting for someone. They like adding souls to their numbers.”

“I’m well aware they enjoy having us around,” I snapped. “There’s nothing to do, Haven. I have to sleep to feel better, and I can’t at home. What am I supposed to do?”

Haven grabbed my hand and pulled me back down the hall, around the corner, and out the back door of the building. “If you can’t sleep at home, I’ll take you somewhere you can.”

I dug in my heels. “We can’t walk out. I’ve already skipped once. You said you weren’t going to be a bad influence, remember?”

He whirled around. “No one watches to door near the band room. They won’t even notice. Everyone will think you’re at the nurse.”

“I could go to the nurse.”

With a sigh, he relaxed his grip on my hand. “Are you going to go and sleep there?”

“I could try.” When he didn’t immediately throw me over his shoulder, I added, “They’ll call both our houses.”

“It doesn’t bother me. My grandmother will be gone until next Friday. She’s on a trip to Vegas with her friends.”

“I’m not going to skip again, Haven.”

He grabbed my hand and headed toward the nurse’s office. I followed, collapsing into a plastic chair inside the doorway. The nurse, a round woman with a ready smile, gave me a once over.

“It’s Claire Mallory, right?”

I nodded.

“Mrs. Wilton, I know I’m asking a lot, but I’m really worried about Claire. Can you call her house and see if her mother will let me bring her home?”

“You know I’m not supposed to.”

“Mrs. Wilton, you’ve known me since I was a baby. I’m not trying to pull a fast one, honest. I’m really worried about her.”

She looked up at the clock and then back at me. “What’s the matter, honey?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to stay awake in class. I’m not feeling right.” I laid it on thick, but I didn’t feel bad about it.

Mrs. Wilton glanced at the clock and then at me. “I’ll call your mother, Claire, and ask if you can go home with Haven. If she gives permission, I’ll allow it.” She pointed a finger at Haven. “I’ll call your grandfather and ask if he minds, since Lucille is out of town. Didn’t think I remembered, did you?”

“I knew you were on top of it.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes and picked up the phone. “You’ve got too much charm for your own good. If it weren’t for your quirks, you’d have the entire female population in tears.”

A shadow passed over Haven’s face as he sat down next to me. Anger on his behalf churned in my gut, my temper made quicker by fatigue. He reached over and draped an arm across the back of my chair.

My eyelids drooped, despite my irritation. Mrs. Wilton spoke brightly to someone named Lawrence on the other end. I assumed it to be Haven’s grandfather. The conversation was quick, and she hung up, redialing my phone number.

In the pause while the phone rang on the other end, she glanced to Haven. “Your grandfather had no problem with it.”

I heard a voice on the other end of the phone and knew Mom answered. Judging by the nurse’s face, she said a good deal more than just hello.

“Ah, well, I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Mallory, but I have Claire here in the clinic, and she’s feeling a bit under the weather. She’d like to be released early.”

There was a pause, and the nurse made non-committal grunts into the phone. Finally, she sighed. “Thank you, Mrs. Mallory. Have a good day.”

She hung up, and there was sympathy in her eyes when she looked at me. “She said it was fine as long as she didn’t have to come get you. I’m going to take it to mean it is fine for you to ride with Haven.”

“Sorry if Mom was abrupt, Mrs. Wilton. She’s had a rough couple months,” I mumbled.

The nurse clucked and shook her head. “Don’t go apologizing for her, my dear. She’s a grown woman and perfectly capable of taking responsibility for her own behavior.”

Her clipped tone surprised me. I wondered what Mom said. She waved a hand. “Now, get her home. She needs rest.”

Haven jumped from his seat. “Sure thing. Thanks.”

It took all my concentration not to trip over my feet, and I let him lead me to his car. He took my bag and dumped our stuff in the trunk while I climbed inside. An ache pulsed at my temples, and I rubbed my head.

Haven started the car and backed out. “We’re going to my house.”

“Okay.”

He glanced at me, brows raised with surprise. “You must be tired. No argument?”

I shrugged. “I’m too tired to complain. Just drive.”

Somewhere between the school and his house, I fell asleep. I didn’t remember anything until I woke up, curled into Haven’s side in the dark. We were tucked into his bed, still dressed. Dim light from a television set to a barely audible level flickered over Haven’s face.

“Hi,” I whispered.

He looked down and smiled. “Lovely to see you.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

He turned to look at the clock on his other side. “About fourteen hours, give or take. It’s a little after midnight.”

I groaned and buried my face against his chest.

“You needed it.”

Glancing back up at him, I rubbed a hand over my face. “Yeah, so I can be well-rested when my mother kills me.”

“You’re assuming she knows you’re here,” Haven said with a grin. He waved his cell phone. “However, your brother was all too willing to help. As far as your mother knows, you’ve both been camping with a group of friends from school all night.”

“Camping?” I stared at him. “She bought it? What about Grant?” The thought of him, alone, made my heart pound.

“Chill. He’s with Jeremy and Carlos. They’ve gone to a concert with Carlos’s older brother, and then they’re dropping him off. They won’t even get back until three or four in the morning. He’ll be all right for a few hours. You did have Bryan ward the room, after all.”

“You really did cover all the bases, didn’t you?”

With a chuckle, he said, “Of course. I know how to cover my tracks. With Grandma being who she is, I’ve learned.”

Yawning, I sat up. Now that I’d slept for a while, the difference in how I felt was indescribable. I stretched and smiled. “Thank you. I feel better than I have in days.”

“Good.”

Another thought struck me. It was midnight, and he wasn’t asleep. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I was thinking about going to bed soon.” When I tried to meet his eyes, he looked away.

Crossing my arms, I pushed back to get a better look at his face. “Now who’s being stubborn? You have to sleep too, or we’re just switching roles. Are your nightmares so bad?”

When I asked, he shifted. “No, no. It’s not that. Disturbing dreams are my norm. I can’t shake the feeling if I fall asleep with you, Grandma will suddenly know, come home, and murder us both.”

For once, I couldn’t tell if he lied, or if that really was his only reason. I knew his dreams bothered him, he’d said so often enough. He never mentioned what happened unless it bothered him a lot. All I could do was hope he wasn’t hiding anything. We needed all the help we could get.

Putting a hand over another yawn, I slid back down into the bed. “Sad as it is, I need to use the bathroom and then I want to go back to sleep. This time, you are too.”

He pointed me in the direction of the bathroom. As I rolled out of his bed, he tapped my shoulder. “Here,” he said, thrusting a stack of clothes at me. “You can wear these to sleep in.”

I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth, then took the clothes. “Thanks.”

When I came back, he’d changed into a pair of lounge pants and a tee with his favorite band logo on it. He moved around his room, unaware as I peeked in the doorway. I’d never paid attention to how fluid his movements were before. The way his body filled out the shirt made my pulse soar.

I pushed open the door, putting my folded clothes on the chair in front of his desk. He turned and laughed. I stuck out my tongue, tugging on the waistband of the pants. “They’re a little long is all.”

The grin only grew wider. “You look really cute in my clothes. Even if the pants are seriously too big.”

Hopping into the bed, I wiggled under the covers. He didn’t have a huge bed, but at least it wasn’t a twin like mine. We weren’t squished when he got in after me. “You’ve apparently been my good luck charm,” I told him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe I can be yours. Sleep well, without any bad dreams to distract you.”

He slid a hand to the nape of my neck and teased my lips with his. When he finally released me, I sagged into him, my breath coming in pants. He smirked. “That should help. Good night, Claire.”

He spooned against me, his hand resting at my waist and I smiled to myself. “Night.”

***

I woke when a text message from Grant buzzed under my pillow.

Hope you had a lovely evening. You might want to come home now.

There was nothing in the message to send me into a panic, but all the same, my heart beat quicker, and worry crept into my chest and nestled there. Beside me, one arm thrown over his face, Haven stirred.

“What?”

“I’ve got to get home.”

Haven rolled over, still mostly asleep. “You’re supposed to be camping, remember?”

I grabbed my clothes from the chair and headed for the bathroom to change. The sense of urgency grew stronger, and I almost whimpered. It was like a compulsion, beating in my chest. I had to, had to, get home. Now.

When I came back in, Haven pulled on a shirt and turned to face me, his golden hair in disarray. “What’s wrong?”

If the sight of his abs disappearing under his shirt didn’t make me swoon, I knew something was wrong. “I have to get home. Grant sent a text message.”

“Your Mom?”

I shook my head, glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven. “No, he said I might want to come home now.”

Haven frowned, then shook his head. “Okay.”

“Hand me my phone, will you? It’s next to the bed.”

When his fingers curled around the plastic case, he jerked. “Whoa.”

I took it, searched his face for a sign of what he thought.

“He’s really upset.”

“I thought your specialties lay elsewhere.” I pulled on my shoes.

“They do. That’s what I mean. If I can feel it, he’s upset.”

I caught the phone he tossed to me and shoved it in my pocket. While Haven found some shoes, I bounced on my toes, ready to take off.

When we turned into the driveway to the house, two unfamiliar black SUVs blocked the way. Relief warred with alarm. My shrink drove a safe, two door Honda. Gas guzzlers offended his earth-loving sensibilities.

“Any idea who it is?” I asked.

Haven put the car into park. “Not a clue. You want me to stay?”

I shook my head. “No. If I get lucky, she won’t notice your car and I can keep up the camping charade. She gets really ticked off when she knows I’ve been with you instead of Bryan.” I leaned over and kissed him, then slid out of the car.

“Call me and let me know what’s going on.” Haven waved and I shut the car door.

He backed out and I headed inside. The television was on in the living room and I headed there first. Grant sat on the couch, his head turned toward the screen, but his attention wasn’t on it.

“They’re upstairs, getting a tour of the third floor.”

Dumping my purse in the chair near the door, I asked, “Who? Why are they touring the house?”

Grant got up, moved into the hall. I followed.

“Bryan and a couple of his buddies from the Spirit Searchers team are here.”

“What? Who called them?” Anger flared in my gut. “And what about camping? How long have you been back?”

“Don’t worry. She thinks there was a large group. It’s natural some of the cars got separated.” He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “As for the ghost hunters, I assume Mom called. That’s not even the worst of it.”

“There’s something worse?”

He looked up at me, and then glanced upward, as if he could see through the floor. For a second his face went slack. His eyelids fluttered and he returned his gaze to me.

I almost thought I saw a flash of something otherworldly in his eyes, and my heart rate sped up. “Grant?”

He blinked again and it was gone. “You’ll understand when you see Mom.”

He moved back to the couch and sat down. My gut twisted. As he sat down I noticed a black cord around his wrist. I retrieved my cell phone and tapped in a message to Haven.

Something weird going on—Grant and I need to get out of the house. Mall this afternoon. HELP.

I moved closer to the couch. If Grant had accepted a gift from the things in the house, I didn’t want them to know what was going on.

“Haven asked if we want to take a trip to the mall later. I told him yes. Sound good to you?”

He turned. “Yes. Sounds wonderful.”

My pulse stuttered. Wonderful? Grant would never say anything like that.

“What are you doing up so early, anyway? I thought you weren’t getting home until four.”

His shoulder lifted and fell in a shrug. “I decided it was time to get up, I guess.”

Before I could say anything else, footsteps clattered down the staircase and we moved to the hallway.

Bryan, a burly man with sandy hair, and a petite redhead with tattoos peeking over the low collar of her shirt came down the stairs. Mom followed behind, a beatific smile on her face. It wasn’t her expression I found riveting. It was the Gibson girl inspired hairstyle and the sweeping skirt. Even her features seemed…changed.

“Ah, Claire, how lovely of you to grace us with your presence.”

Bryan turned from his conversation, his face lit with excitement. The woman next to him stepped forward, one hand outstretched. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

I shook it automatically. “Funny, I can’t say the same.”

“This is Laura Pierce, the founder of Spirit Searchers.” Bryan stepped to the side, and I shook hands with the other man. “This is her husband, Cain.”

“Listen, I don’t want to seem rude, but what’s going on?”

Bryan’s brow furrowed. “Your mom said this was your idea. You gave her my number to call.”

Mom stood off to the side, a benign smile on her face. Only her eyes glittered with malice. I waffled. “Not that I remember, but I suppose I could have given it to her.”

“You can’t take it back now,” Bryan snapped. “The arrangements have been made for Halloween.”

My jaw dropped. “Halloween?”

“Yes,” Laura said. “We’ll be here Friday afternoon for interviews, and then we’ll do a full investigation with six members.” She took my elbow, cutting a glance at her husband. “Let me explain what I have in mind.”

Cain murmured something to Mom and flashed a wide smile. With a pointed glare at me, she followed him into the kitchen. Bryan, Laura, and I stepped outside onto the porch.

“Bryan says you have reservations about this whole event.”

Surprised, I nodded.

Laura’s face was open and eager. “I can’t reassure you enough that we’re professionals. We know what we’re doing.”

“Listen, Laura,” I said. “I don’t want to be a pain, but this place isn’t like anything anyone has ever seen before. I’m sure of it.”

Her eyes swept over the porch. “Yes, I’ll admit it is a bit intimidating at first, but it’s not impossible.” A soft smile lit her face and she leaned against the wall. “It really has a charm to it, once you take a good look.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you sure you and I are talking about the same house?”

She laughed. “Maybe it’s because you’re too close to it to see its potential. All the history in the walls.”

“Sure. There’s tons of history. In the walls, the floor, reaching out to grab you by the hair when you walk past.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t get the sense of anything malevolent while we did the walk through.”

I crossed my arms. “And you’ve been here for, what, half an hour?”

Laura colored and looked away. “Just about. Initially we were going to video tape some interviews with you, but you weren’t home and we had some trouble with equipment. Unfortunately the backup batteries aren’t fully charged, as we had an investigation last night.”

What else could I say to make her understand? I decided to try a different tactic. Prove that whatever she searched for, she wouldn’t find here. “What do you want to prove here? What is it you are hunting for?”

“Proof of life after death. That the supernatural isn’t a hoax or someone’s overactive imagination. Tangible evidence there are things out there we can’t explain.”

Oh, she’d find it. “And you believe this is the best place? Even if there are big risks involved?”

“From what Bryan has said, yes.” She sighed. “Claire, I can understand your concern, honestly, but I don’t believe the incorporeal can harm me.”

“Have you been to the basement yet?”

She nodded.

“Nothing?” When she shook her head, I asked, “I know you saw the third floor. You didn’t see anything there either?”

She shook her head, and sympathy sparkled in her gaze. I wanted to smack the expression from her face and demand she pay attention to me. “Listen, I know things like this are sometimes frightening, but it’s no reason to warn us off. On the contrary, maybe we can help each other.”

“Frightening? You have no idea what that means around here.” Scowling, I held up one finger. “What exactly has Bryan told you about this house?”

“What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms. “I didn’t tell her anything. She can’t know those kinds of things if she wants to be objective.”

“Objective?” The look I shot him must’ve held more heat than I thought, because his mouth snapped shut. Returning my gaze to Laura, I debated briefly with myself. I didn’t want to give away my secrets—it went against the grain to reveal so much of myself to anyone, let alone a stranger.

“Laura, I speak to the dead.”

Bryan sucked in a huge breath, and I couldn’t tell if he was excited or upset. Laura didn’t hear another word. Excitement sparkled in her eyes, and she clapped her hands together. “Fantastic! You have to help us on the investigation!”

“No.”

“Don’t be like that, Claire,” Bryan whined. “Knowing this, I understand your reservations. We can help you!”

Laura tilted her head, her attention fixed on me. “Why? This would be the perfect way to face your fears.”

“My fears are the least of your problems. This place isn’t what you think. The spirits in there want things, and they’re willing to do anything to get it.”

“What do they want?”

“That’s the problem. I know they want us, but I don’t know for what or why. I can tell you whatever happened to them when they were alive has driven some of them to madness in death.”

Instead of getting my fear of what might happen to people who went in too open to experiences across, I thought Laura would cry with sheer joy.

I turned to Bryan, hoping for someone who would back me up. But his eyes were riveted to the stairs, and the look on his face made my heart pound. His mouth was open, and his eyes were wide and glossy with tears. The expression on his face was a mixture of hope, regret, and terror. It made my skin prickle. Not because I thought the house had gotten to him—I knew it had. Because whatever connection he had with it did not involve the spirits claiming my family. This was something inside Bryan, something he created. The spirits had touched him, sometime, somehow, and they never completely let go.

Laura wrapped her hands around mine and squeezed. “Really, it’s sweet of you to warn us, but we know what we’re getting into. It will be all right.”

In a last effort, I grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “If you go in there on Halloween searching for ghosts, you’re going to find them. And they’re going to kill you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Bryan grabbed my arm. “Trying to scare us off won’t work. I know you may find it hard to believe, but in the greater tri-state area, Laura, Cain, and I are pretty much the go-to people for supernatural issues. We aren’t amateurs and we aren’t going to come in without taking precautions.”

“Bryan, listen to yourself. Arrogance will get you killed.”

Frustration twisted his lips. Laura clasped my hand in hers. “Honest, Claire, we aren’t unaware of the hazards.”

They were, and I knew it. There was no way to describe how dangerous the ghosts in the house were. I didn’t even know how many were there, or what they truly wanted, beyond us.

I shook off Laura’s grasp. “Have you noticed how happy the spirits are to see Bryan when he comes in? It’s not normal.”

“We’re going to use it to our advantage though.” Laura had a stubborn tilt to her head. “We’ll take every precaution, I assure you. But we will be here.”

“I suppose since you’ve got Mom’s permission, I can’t stop you.” I took a step back and motioned toward the house. “But my conscience is clear. I gave you fair warning.”

Laura went back inside, but Bryan stopped in the doorway, blocking my way. His face pulled into a dark scowl. “Was all the doom and gloom necessary? And why didn’t you tell me about your abilities?”

“You didn’t exactly seem open to the idea of them, considering how you treat Haven. And after you came over and helped us with Grant’s room, how can you deny things aren’t right? This isn’t some haunted house you come to, video tape, and go home to sleep it off. This place will torture you and keep you here, if it can. It wants visitors to come and stay.”

“Be careful, Claire, your paranoia is showing.”

Biting my lip, I swallowed the nasty retort I wanted to sling at him. Truth was, they would come, whether I liked it or not. Mom had seen to that. The only decision left to me was whether I planned to stay and do damage control or not. Sadly, my conscience wouldn’t let me contemplate the idea of leaving them to their fates. Bryan and I went back inside, a cool silence stretched between us. Cain and Laura emerged from the kitchen; each gushed their thanks to Mom as they shook her hand and gathered coats and bags from the hall.

Five minutes later, they left, and Mom turned around, a wide smile on her face. “Really, Claire, you have to stop trying to scare our friends.”

“You’ve made your stance quite clear. They’ll be here on Halloween. Not much I can do about it.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and then she squinted at me, her hand touching her chin in a strange movement so unlike her, and yet not unfamiliar to me. A chill needled down my spine.

“No argument?”

I held my hands up. “Your house, your rules, right?”

Her head tilted. “Correct.”

“Not much to say about it then.” I shrugged. “By the way, unless you have an objection, Grant and I were going to the mall this afternoon with friends.” I left Haven’s name out of it. “Is that all right?”

Holding my breath, I waited for her to call my bluff. After a few moments of intense scrutiny, she smiled. “Of course. Text me when you are on your way home.”

“Not picking up any more shifts?” She’d worked nearly straight through the last month or so. I assumed she wouldn’t be home in the evening.

She waved a hand. “I’m going in for a half-shift. Don’t have to leave until about ten.”

Slowly, her body relaxed into more normal patterns. With a long sigh, I watched her posture change, and her hand patted her hair. A shallow frown line appeared between her brows.

The doorbell echoed through the house. I ducked in the living room, nodding to Grant and snagged my purse from the floor. “We’ll be back around eight, unless something happens,” I said. Grant followed with hardly a backward glance at Mom.

“Have fun!”

Haven stood on the porch, watching the house with a frown.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He looked behind me to Grant, and his brow furrowed.

I shook my head slightly. “Don’t ask. I’ll fill you in when we get there.”

His car waited in the drive, and we loaded in. Buckling my seat belt, I could feel the tension melt from my shoulders. “Thanks.”

He headed out onto the road. “No problem.”

He took the exit to the mall, stopping at the end of the on ramp to wait for a light. In the pause, he turned to me. “Who was there? What is the emergency?”

I flicked my eyes to my brother, who stared out the window in the back, unusually silent. “Bryan and the Spirit Searchers. And the emergency is…complicated.” He nodded and turned her attention back to the road. A few more minutes and we parked. I motioned Grant inside. Grant gave us a curious look, but didn’t argue.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure how, but somehow the ghosts have gotten hold of Grant. He’s wearing a bracelet on one wrist. My brother never wears jewelry.”

“Another gift?”

“I don’t think so.” I resisted the urge to turn and look for Grant. “He knows better. I think Mom put it on him while I was gone, though I’m not sure how she managed it.”

Haven pressed his lips to mine quickly and then touched his forehead to mine. “Never a dull moment with you, is there?”

“You’d be disappointed if there were,” I replied.

He stepped back and spread his arms, motioning me forward. “After you.”

Sweeping past, I caught a glimpse of Grant through the glass doors and my smile faded. The feeling of impending doom I thought had lifted returned with crushing weight.

Whatever the spirits had been waiting for, it was obviously here.

“Let’s find some food. Sound good to you two?”

Grant smiled, looking more like himself. It was almost enough to make me think I’d imagined it. Yet, as we walked to the food court, I noticed his left hand stray to touch the band on his other wrist, and for a split second his eyes went blank.

We split up, Grant heading for a Chinese restaurant, while Haven and I headed for Chick-fil-a. As we stood in line, he linked his fingers with mine. “How do you want to handle this?”

“He’s struggling. Outside the house, they don’t have as easy a hold on him.” I sucked in a deep breath. “When we sit down, I’ll grab his hand and get it off. You need to sit on his other side, in case I need help.”

A knot formed in my stomach. Haven squeezed my fingers.

“You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I feel like I’m attacking my brother.” I stepped up to place my order, adding, “It’s not a good feeling.”

Haven bullied his way past me when I would have paid, added in his order, and pulled out his wallet. The cashier giggled and winked at me.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Oh, good word usage.” Haven teased.

I resisted a smile. “This isn’t the time for joking.”

He stepped back to let the next person forward and grabbed the two drinks the cashier handed him. “Our lives seem to be one disaster after another. We can use the humor whenever we find it.”

***

Fifteen minutes later we met at one of the cold metal tables in the most remote corner I could find. No one else sat near us, and potted palms blocked most of the view of our table from the room. I didn’t want anyone thinking we were mugging Grant. Butterflies danced in my stomach. Grant sat first, and I put down my tray and told them I would get some extra napkins. As I walked away, I watched my brother meticulously line up everything he’d bought on the tray. Each utensil sat exactly the same distance apart.

Turning before I had a chance to chicken out, I took two long steps back, my hand slamming Grant’s right arm down against the chair arm. With my other hand, I slid a finger beneath the loops of black cord and yanked them over his hand. They caught on his fingers, which attempted to clutch at the binding. Haven grabbed his other arm, holding him down.

Grant struggled, his lips twisted up in a soundless snarl. His eyes, normally brown, flashed green. I squeezed his wrist hard, putting all my weight into pulling on the cord. At last the knot in it slipped and it fell away from his fingers, landing on the tile with a hollow clang.

I released Grant and swiped it from the floor, dumping it into a napkin. My brother froze. Beside him, Haven kept an arm draped over the back of the chair, casually, in case he decided to leap up or attack one of us.

Grant stared into space, his breath coming in short pants. With my heart pounding in my chest, I leaned forward. “Grant?”

“Come on, Grant. Talk to me. I promise, things will be all right.” Please don’t let that be a lie. Hesitantly, I laid a hand over Grant’s. His skin was cool to the touch. “Please, say something.”

His eyelids fluttered, and he turned to me. “Next time, could you not squeeze so damn hard?”

A bubble of relieved laughter burst from my throat. “There better not be a next time, butthead.”

He sagged into the seat, his posture back to his normal slouch. “I hope not. That sucked.”

“What happened?” Haven asked.

Grant picked up a fork and stabbed a piece of sweet and sour chicken. “Carlos and Jeremy dropped me off around three. I collapsed into bed, and when I woke up, that thing was around my wrist. It was crowded in my head. Too full. Someone else was there in my body with me, forcing me out. I fought, but I couldn’t shake it. Once we left the house, it got easier, but it didn’t disappear. There were times when I could see and hear, but I didn’t control myself.”

“How do you feel now?” Haven asked.

“Better. Like me.” He paused. “But I’d feel better if someone could tell for sure.”

He stared at me. I looked away. “Grant, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I can’t even do it most of the time.”

Haven leaned back. “What do you have to do?”

“Look inside Grant’s head. A place no one in their right mind wants to go anyway.” My attempt at humor fell flat.

Grant’s hand stopped mid-way to his mouth. Slowly, he put the fork down. “Do it.”

“What?”

Fear danced in his eyes. “I want to know for sure. I don’t want to worry about that thing hiding in me. Do it, right now.”

With a deep breath I nodded, then closed my eyes. I opened my mind, blocking out everyone but Grant. The green flicker of his soul burned bright, a brighter white spot marking across it like a scar. I touched it and realized that’s what it was: the mark left after we released him from the hold of the spirit.

I returned to myself and opened my eyes, found my hands clutched the table in a white-knuckle grip. Grant looked worried.

“Cheer up. You’re all you.”

Relief made his whole body relax. “One last question. How do we make sure Mom doesn’t notice it’s gone?”

“He has a point.” Haven held out his hand. “Can I see it?”

I handed him the bracelet, crumpled in the napkin. He opened it, careful not to touch it. The black cord had held a small metal pendant, a silver circle with a blue stone. Haven flipped it over, and initials were carved into the back—an “E” and an “L.”

“We can find a charm like this. We’ll take it to my house and I’ll engrave the initials in. We’ll put the fake on him, and put this one somewhere.”

“Can’t we destroy it?” Grant leaned away from it.

Haven shook his head. “If the spirits are connected enough to use it to possess you, they’ll know if it’s destroyed. I’ll hide it at my house. Let’s hope we can fool them until…”

My head jerked up to look at him. Guilt flashed in his eyes.

“What have you seen, Haven?”

He shrugged, but wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Don’t make me beat it out of you.”

A smile tugged one corner of his lips, but he squashed it. “Nothing is clear. Whatever is going to happen is going to be soon. Others are present. I think it’s the Spirit Searchers, Bryan, us. But that’s it.”

“Well, let’s cancel the whole thing!” Grant said. “I’ll throw a fit. Make a good reason for Mom to have to cancel.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it will do any good. You’ll just get in trouble, and draw even more attention to yourself and the fact that you’re not possessed.”

Grant stabbed at his food. “It’s still worth a try.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Haven sighed. “That’s why I don’t say anything about what I see. It always changes something.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Two hours later, we thought we’d never be able to find the right size and shape of silver disc to replace the one Haven now carried, still wrapped in a napkin in his pocket. We’d covered the two cheap jewelry stores in the mall, and now moved on to the department stores. Once we’d come close, but the charm was far too small, and even though I hadn’t seen the original very long, I noticed the difference.

Worry gnawed at my thoughts. If we went back to the house without something, Mom and whatever dwelt inside her would know instantly. It was a long shot. A faux bracelet wouldn’t fool them for long, but I wasn’t looking for a long term solution. Just long enough.

“Hey, guys.” Grant held up a small silver chain with a round charm dangling off one end. “What about this one?”

The salesperson peered our way, then continued to file her nails and talk to her co-worker.

Haven pulled the crumpled napkin from his pocket. Inside, the old charm gleamed dull in the light. Grant held the necklace up next to it.

They weren’t a perfect match, but there was only a millimeter or two difference in the size. It was blank, and un-weathered, but those were things Haven assured us could be changed with the right tools.

“How much is it?” I asked.

Haven took the necklace and flipped over the tag dangling from the clasp. “Thirty bucks.”

I pulled out my wallet. “Not as bad as it could be.”

“I’ll buy it,” Grant offered.

I waved him off and took the necklace to the counter. “You can buy me lunch next time.”

The girl rang up our purchase, boredom written in every slouching line of her body. Despite the makeup caked on her face, she wasn’t much older than us. I had a sudden longing for problems like how long my shift was and what shirt to wear.

“Now what?”

Grant shoved his hands in his pockets. “I want to say we should go browse the video games or something, but I suppose we ought to go to Haven’s house and get this done.”

Haven shook his head. “We’ve only been gone about two hours. While I know this had a point, there’s no reason we can’t hit a few places on the way out.” He smiled and slid his hand around mine. “Let’s go to the movie store, we’ll find a film and then buy it to watch while I mess with this. We’ll order pizza later.”

Grant looked thrilled, and though I wanted to get it finished, I appreciated the attempt to make us feel more like teenagers.

“How are you feeling?” I asked him.

We headed out into the mall. He shrugged. “All right. Worn out, but much lighter. I’ll be okay. Honest.”

“All right then,” I said. “Let’s go pick out a movie and get out of here.” I waved a finger at Grant. “Not a horror flick either. I know you.”

He held up his hands. “No danger of that this time. I think I’m done with those for a while.”

I let Grant move several feet ahead, tugging on Haven’s hand to slow his steps. When he was out of earshot, I glanced at Haven and said, “Do me a favor, will you?”

“What?”

“I’ll disappear into a store or something for a little bit. Talk to Grant. He’ll tell you things he won’t tell me. Please make sure he’s really okay.”

Haven released my hand and put an arm around my shoulders. I slid mine around his waist and we continued walking. “Sure thing.”

“You really are pretty awesome.” I paused and kissed his cheek. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

He smiled and warmth flickered in my belly. “I’ll do my best.”

I stopped at two places, trying to get Grant to go with Haven, but he followed me in, despite whining about clothes shopping with a girl. In a last-ditch effort to get him to hang out with Haven alone, I headed into a lingerie store. Grant took two steps in and then turned bright red.

“I’ll just wait out here with Haven. Don’t take forever!”

I nodded and then headed to the back, pretending to look through racks of bras, checking my phone periodically. After fifteen minutes, I could feel the sales clerk starting to watch me, and decided they’d had enough time.

Haven nodded over Grant’s head at me when I came out. Neither of them looked upset, and my stomach unknotted a little. We headed a few doorways down into the movie store and browsed through the titles, giving the horror section a wide berth.

We settled on an adventure movie—mindless entertainment we could all enjoy. The closer we got to leaving, the quieter everyone grew. It felt like we had our own little black rain cloud forming overhead.

Grant lifted a brow when we headed out of the mall. Haven moved ahead, giving us some privacy. “You need to chill out, Sis. Next time, you don’t have to hide in the bras to get me to talk to Haven. I’m not three years old. I’d have talked to him later anyway.” He wagged a finger at me. “Just for trying to pretend like I’m that stupid, I expect a giant bag of cheese balls as an apology.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. And where am I going to get these cheese balls?”

“On the way to get the pizza. Haven and I also decided what dinner was while you were pretending to shop.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I checked the screen. Bryan’s name flashed across the screen. I opened the text message and uneasiness returned like a fist to the gut.

You aren’t going to screw this up, Claire. I can’t let you.

“Who is it?” Haven asked.

For a split second, I paused, and then shoved the cell back in my jeans and climbed in the car. “Nothing. Just Mom giving me a hard time. Make sure we stop at the grocery store on the way. I’ll get Grant his stupid cheese balls.”

He glanced sideways, suspicion in his gaze, but didn’t say anything else. Why I’d lied, I wasn’t sure. The interactions between Bryan and I were strange. Every time I thought I understood him, he did something like this. It worried me. The house was connected to so many people in so many ways, I supposed it was possible. I relaxed into the seat and listened to Haven and Grant debate pizza toppings. I’d deal with Bryan’s temper tantrum later.

***

Grant had opened the front door to Haven’s before we even had all the bags out of the car. His eyes went straight to the frozen pizza like a dog senses a treat.

“I’m starved. Give me that thing, and let’s get this in the oven.”

“We just ate less than two hours ago,” I said, handing him the pizza. “You really are insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Being possessed will do that to you.”

I smacked him with one of the bags of groceries. “Not funny, doofus.”

He shrugged. “Truth hurts. Now where are my cheese balls?”

I pulled the bag from his grasp and handed him the one full of soda. “Not a chance. You take this and then we’ll see if you get your cheese balls.”

A fine mist fell as we walked inside. Appropriately dark and gloomy. I glanced at the sky before we headed for the door. Haven caught my movement.

“You know it’s supposed to be rain off and on until Halloween. The weather guy predicted storms.”

“Great.”

“Well, I suppose God has a sense of drama.”

“Or a really warped sense of humor. Do me a favor—if you’re at my house in the next week during a storm or power outage, don’t run upstairs in your underwear. Those are always the first to die.”

Haven chuckled. “Damn. There goes my Halloween costume.”

***

October is a touchy month for those who can speak to the dead. The wall between worlds doesn’t fall at midnight on the thirty-first and then flip back up again twenty-four hours later. It’s a gradual thing, like flower bulbs that peek through in spring and explode overnight into full bloom.

As we sat in front of the adventure movie, listening with half an ear to Haven’s engraver buzzing across the metal in the kitchen, I caught the feel of another person in the house. It was faint, almost like it snuck through our midst.

I closed my eyes, opened myself and searched.

Behind Haven in the kitchen, a thin, flickering form hovered.

“I don’t freaking think so,” I muttered, jumping to my feet.

I slid into the kitchen, fisted my hands on my hips, and frowned. Haven turned off the small tool and looked up. “What did I do?”

I ignored him, keeping my eyes on the wall behind him. “Show yourself this instant.”

The flicker moved toward the door, and in a moment of angry impulse, I reached out with a mental hand and grabbed the tail end of it. I jerked, hissing and opening my fist. A red mark arced across my palm.

Haven moved from his chair, cradling my hand. His other arm circled me, pulled me against him. His muscles tensed. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. There was a spirit there, and I tried to hold it back.”

The mark was already fading, though the spot throbbed a bit. I opened and closed my hand gingerly.

“Is that normal?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve never tried to hold a spirit before.”

He slid a hand under my chin. “Let’s not try it again, okay?”

“Not anytime soon anyway.”

He frowned at my word choice, but I didn’t take it back. No sense in making a promise I would probably break later. I rubbed the spot, the pain already faded away. “I think it was the one your mother talked about. Vale.”

Haven glanced around the room, then released me after a quick squeeze. “I thought there was a presence, but maybe it was my imagination.”

“Why would he be here?”

Haven shrugged and put the plastic safety glasses back on. He picked up the small engraving tool and positioned it over the silver disc, clamped carefully on a block of wood. “Sometimes he pops in. I don’t always notice anymore. I assumed if he was my father, he was looking in on me.”

“And if he’s not?”

“I hope Mom sent him.”

Blowing out a deep breath, I wanted to shake him. “You talk about me and my attitude toward things. You can’t assume. What if it is something from my house?”

“Why would it come here? They don’t seem to have any range outside the house, or we’d never have gotten the bracelet off Grant.” Haven shifted the tool in his hand. “Go back and enjoy the movie. A few more minutes, and I think I’ll have the engraving done. The lettering is a pain on this thing.”

“You’re done talking about this, aren’t you?”

He grinned. “Claire, we need to deal with one thing at a time. I believe it was Vale, and for right now, he’s not a problem.”

I stood there, debating, while Haven turned the tool back on. The grinding whine made me flinch and I backed out of the kitchen to the living room. Grant raised her brows at me.

“Nothing. I remembered something I needed to tell Haven.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’ve really got to work on your lying.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Later, as the movie wrapped up, I left the couch again and pulled Haven with me. We gathered paper plates and headed to the kitchen under the guise of cleaning up.

“I need help, Haven.”

He dumped the plates in the garbage. “Whatever you need, I’ll do.”

“You’re sweet, but I mean real help. I need someone who can get rid of whatever is taking over my life. There has to be someone.”

Haven leaned back against the countertop, one hand rubbed through his hair. “Believe it or not, Bryan and the Spirit Searchers are the local experts.”

“Do you really think they can help?” I wanted help, but I didn’t believe Bryan or Laura wanted anything more than an exciting evening of ghosts and scares. They weren’t interested in anything more.

“You met them, didn’t you? What do you think?”

I squinted at him. “Are you sure you can’t read minds?”

“I don’t have to with you, Claire. It’s written all over your face.” He moved, grabbing the rest of the trash from the counter. “Laura and Bryan aren’t the best examples, but I’m surprised you didn’t find Cain more convincing.”

“He talked to Mom, not me. I didn’t see him because I was so irritated with the other two.”

“Ah, well, Cain can help. But you’ll have to talk to him alone. When it comes to Laura, he’s got a blind spot. If you tell him the facts, he’ll listen. If she’s there, she’ll convince him you’re full of crap. When she wants something, she gets it.”

“So how am I going to talk to him alone? She knows I don’t think this whole thing is a good idea.”

Haven winked. “Leave that part to me. I’ll set everything up, and then take you to meet him this week.”

“You really think they can help?”

He walked over, sliding his hands around my waist. “The truth?”

I nodded.

“I think we should torch it. But that does present some problems.”

The idea of the house in flames did have its appeal. “I’d have to move, for one thing.”

He leaned down, his breath fanning across my lips. “Definitely not okay with me.”

Any response was lost when he kissed me. All my questions sank away when his body pressed against mine.

Until Grant started making gagging noises in the doorway.

Haven pulled away and grinned at her. “Yes?”

“Save it, lover boy. Cleaning up the kitchen, my ass.”

He released me, and I tried not to look guilty. Even though I enjoyed it, I had to wonder if he’d known what I wanted to ask, so he’d distracted me. He’d done a damn good job of it too.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have to get home. Sooner or later she’ll come looking for us.” Grant’s smile faded and he grew pale.

“It’ll be fine, Grant.”

“What makes you believe I think different?” His words were surly, but I let it go. He tried hard to act macho about it.

Haven took the silver charm from the kitchen table where he’d been working, and held it up with the original, careful not to touch anything but the napkin the older jewelry remained wrapped in.

“Who knew you were such an artist?” I stroked a finger across the surface he’d etched. The delicate swirls and loops of the initials were exact copies of each other. He’d rubbed some sort of black polish into it to replicate the worn look, and without close inspection, they were the same.

Grant sucked in a deep breath and took the one Haven offered. I tied it around his wrist when he thrust it toward me.

“Now let’s get this show on the road. I don’t want to have to wait and see what horrible things happen when I get back to the house.”

We gathered our things and headed to the car. Nerves made my palms damp with sweat. Haven tried to make small talk, but worry painted his expression when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I glanced back at my brother in the rear seat, one hand fiddled with the copied charm around his wrist. It didn’t have to work for long. We only needed enough time to figure out what the hell to do.

***

Mom wasn’t home when we got there. She’d left a note on the counter, written in a strange mix of looping curves and mom’s round print.

Working a double shift, and then I’ve taken off the remainder of the week to prepare for this weekend’s festivities. I cooked dinner for you. It’s in the icebox.

I slid the paper to Grant and opened the refrigerator door. Two neat plates complete with parsley garnishes sat on the top shelf, neatly wrapped in cling film. I pulled them out, turned, and looked at Grant.

“Never, in our entire lives, has our mother made food that looked like the cover of a foodie magazine.”

Without another word, I ripped off the cling film and dumped each into the garbage.

“Good choice.” Grant was pale and pointed to the sink.

I turned, my heart plummeting to my gut. A box of rat poison peeked out from behind a bottle of soap on the counter. The flap was still open, and my stomach turned over.

“She wouldn’t. Would she?” I murmured.

“I know Mom wouldn’t,” Grant said. “But I can tell you from my brief experience, whatever is inside her would.”

“That’s it. Don’t drink anything you didn’t open. Don’t eat anything she fixes.”

“Not a problem. But if she’s going to be here all week, what will we do?”

My gaze returned back to the box of poison. “Refuse to eat anything she fixes or brings into the house. Gloves are off now, and I’m not worried about hurting her feelings.”

I pinched the box between two fingers and dumped it into the trash as well. One thought nagged me. “Why would she leave it out where we could see it? The spirit is smarter than that.”

“Maybe Mom’s not totally gone.” Grant sounded so hopeful. I latched on to the feeling.

“Let’s hope so. For now though, we have to find some food.”

Grant went to the pantry and returned with a box of mashed potatoes and a couple cans of veggies. “Despite this being healthy, I vote for canned and boxed items.”

I nodded. “All right, then.”

We made dinner and ate in relative silence. My mind bounced between the belief the food had been poisoned, and the thought perhaps the whole thing was an elaborate ruse designed to suggest the idea. To make us more paranoid.

It worked.

Though I’d finally caught up on my sleep, I felt ancient. My brain refused to turn off, and the old fear I would lose it again swamped me. If I lost it here, my life was over, and so was everyone else’s.

We washed dishes, and by unspoken agreement, brought our homework to do downstairs. Neither of us wanted to be alone. We’d managed to spend as much time outside of the house as possible. Now, being here, I realized how much the thinning of the barrier between worlds affected it. Being with Haven, and living in the house and becoming more comfortable with myself, I’d been able to begin to come to terms with my gifts, despite my fears.

That came with a price.

Though I blocked them out, the presence of the ghosts in the house still made me flinch. The longer we stayed, the more I could feel them. The souls flickered around us, pacing and waiting. We turned on the television while we worked, but half my attention stayed focused on them. They were stronger now. I didn’t know if that was because of the approaching holiday or because they were wearing us down. It could have been both.

One in particular kept walking past the doorway. I didn’t think Grant noticed until I heard him curse.

His eyes were riveted on the doorway, where a filmy figure of a boy, a little older than him, hovered. He was dressed like a newsboy, complete with tweed cap, though he faded out at the knees.

His eyes burned with intensity and were much darker than they should have been, though they weren’t black like the others. His lips twisted into a snarl, and a low rumble echoed by us.

“Ernest Levingworth,” I said, the name coming to me without my choosing. “Stop it.”

The hate on his face grew, and he moved forward. As soon as he did, the temperature dropped, and fear replaced the rage on his face. He winked out, as quickly as he had come.

My heart stuttered, and I wondered what else was there.

“Shit. Is that what it’s like all the time for you?” Grant rubbed a hand over his face.

“Only when they want to be seen.”

“Why would he want to be seen right now?”

I tapped the charm we’d made for his bracelet. “EL. Ernest Levingworth. I think our lie has been discovered.”

He blanched. “What does it mean?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

“Is anything else going to make an appearance?” The temperature in the air dropped even more. Faint white puffs plumed in front of our faces.

With a groan, I nodded. “I’m thinking yes.”

I got up and moved closer to Grant. Everything in the house paused, still as death. The air bit into exposed skin, and something around us shifted. My entire body jerked at the sensation, as if I’d stuck my finger in a light socket for an instant. I refused to open myself up and look at it.

I wanted to. Whispers started, barely audible, around me.

Claire.

Help us. We need you.

Just a tiny peek will tell you everything you want to know.

All the answers.

I covered my ears, but they continued, growing louder though muffled. They wanted me to look at them so badly.

I squeezed my eyes shut, curling into a crouch. Vaguely, I was aware of Grant moving beside me. He spoke, but it was a whisper from a distance against the mumbling crowd pressing in on my brain.

Listen to us and it will stop.

You must help us.

A dull ache formed at the base of my neck, working its way up by skull. Like fingers, squeezing.

It isn’t us. Not our fault.

We need you. You’re our last hope.

Listen.

Listen.

LISTE—

Something warm touched me, and the almost unbearable pain began to drain away in dull throbs. My eyes fluttered open. Haven knelt in front of me, chest heaving and water dripping from his nose. His eyes were wild with panic and bright with moisture.

“Haven? W-what are you doing here?”

“I was searching, and then the vision changed. You’re okay. One of you is okay.”

His words slurred with panting breaths and fear. He pulled me toward him, his arms squeezed me tight. Water soaked into my clothes, but I didn’t care, as long as he held me. His touch chased the pain away, helped warmth to seep back into my limbs. His words finally registered, and I pushed away enough to look at him.

“One of us is okay?” Grant stood in my field of vision, pale but fine. “Who else are you worried about?”

A shudder passed through him. “The home called. My mom is missing.”

“Oh no. When? What happened?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. They said she packed a bag. There is food missing from the kitchen. She planned it. I was out in the woods looking for her. I thought maybe she’d be where we found her before. I reached out to try and have a vision of where she might be, and instead I got slammed with a vision of you, and the ghosts pressing down…”

His voice trailed off, and I knew I didn’t want to hear what the ending would have been without his interference.

“Anyway, you’re all right. I can’t leave you here, but I have to go for Mom.”

I grabbed his shoulders. “We’ll help. Whatever they would have done, they can’t try the same thing again. I’ll be fine. Your mom is more important at the moment.”

I was ashamed to admit that any excuse to focus on something else, to get away from the house, was welcome.

Haven pressed a hard kiss to my lips. “Thanks. Just be careful. If you’ve got any extra flashlights, we’ll take them too.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Haven did his best to seem calm, but he shifted from foot to foot, glancing out at the increasing drizzle with alarm. Tonight was not a good night to be lost, or be looking for someone who was. If we weren’t careful we’d end up hurt, or pass right over her without even knowing it.

I pulled the hood of my coat over my head as we went outside.

“I’ve already covered most of the way between your house and mine. I haven’t checked in the direction of Bryan’s house yet.”

“I’ll do it,” I volunteered. “He’s less likely to arrest me if he finds me wandering past his house.”

“All right. Grant, you can search in between with me. We’ll meet back on the porch in an hour. Call if you need help. If your cell doesn’t work or gets lost, yell. Someone will come. And don’t do anything stupid.”

***

Grant and I got back first. We were soaked through, cold, and I had found nothing. Grant found a hair tie, which could have been hers or one of a hundred other girls’. I checked my phone’s display again. We’d both been late, but Haven was working on a good twenty minutes.

“Do you think he’s found anything?”

“He’d have called,” Grant said. Worry creased his forehead, as we both listened for a shout and scanned the darkness around us.

Finally, Haven emerged from the inky blackness around the circle of porch light right as I decided it was time to go after him. Something was bunched in his arm, and he held it against his chest as if it was precious. My heart plummeted.

Next to me, Grant drew a sharp breath.

“I didn’t find her,” he said. “Only her jacket and locket.”

I pulled him inside the door, down the hall and into the kitchen. He sat at the table like a zombie; his eyes stared off into space. I couldn’t tell if it was shock, or some sort of vision, or a combination. Gently, I pried the jacket from his arms and set it on the table. When I looked at my hand, rose-colored liquid darkened the lines on my palm.

Blood.

“Haven! What else did you find? Are you hurt?”

He blinked, his gaze focused on my face. “Hurt?”

I held out my hand.

“It’s on the jacket. I noticed when I picked it up.” His words were dull. “I was supposed to go see her tomorrow. I didn’t suspect a thing.”

“You aren’t responsible for this.” I rinsed off my hands.

“I’m a freaking psychic. What good is having the ability to see the future when you either can’t do a damn thing about it, or you don’t see the one thing that would help someone you love?”

There was no way to answer him. I kept hold of his hand and pulled one of the other kitchen chairs nearer. “You’re asking the girl who talks to the dead, remember? I don’t have an answer. Remember, you didn’t fail tonight.” I cupped his cheek in my hand, wiping at some of the rain dripping from his scalp. “You rescued me. We’ll find your mom. But right now, it’s dark and wet, and getting yourself sick won’t help anyone. Maybe we should try driving around town.”

Some of the tension left his face. “No. The cops are driving the streets. There’s also an alert going across the late night news. They told me to go home, to make sure she doesn’t come there. But I know she won’t.”

“How?”

Finally he looked at me, and I almost wished he hadn’t. “Because when they went in her room, there was a picture of this house, from when it was the Home, sitting on the ottoman.”

Haven stayed the night at the house with us, mainly because I wouldn’t let him out of my sight. I knew if I sent him home, he wouldn’t stay there. He’d be out again in the dark and end up hurt, lost, or worse.

Monday morning we were up early, out to search around the house before school started. The sky was overcast and barely lighter than the previous day. After an hour, we still didn’t have anything to find. Mom appeared just as we came out of the forest, a serene, unsurprised look on her face.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your poor mother, Haven.”

He stood back, watching her with a guarded expression. My hand crept to his. She came down the porch steps, her car keys swinging in her fingers.

“Has there been any sign of her at all?”

Her tone mocked us, and I clenched my hands into fists. The urge to smack her almost overwhelmed me.

“There will be. She can’t have gotten far,” Haven said in a flat, emotionless voice.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll find her eventually. Like you said, how far could she really have gotten, after all?” Her head tilted and she shrugged. “In any case, it looks like more rain soon. Time for school.”

After a brief pause, Grant trudged forward and I turned to Haven. “I know you won’t, but please go home and rest a while.”

He nodded once, but didn’t meet my gaze. I shook a finger at him.

“I mean it! Don’t make me kick your butt.”

A tiny quirk of his lips cheered me.

“I’ll think about it.”

“It’s better than nothing I guess.”

Mom called my name.

“You better go. I’ll see you later, okay?” He attempted a smile and failed.

“I’d stay, but she’s taken off the whole week. No chance of skipping out this time. But call or text if you need me and I’ll do my best.”

He squeezed my hand, pressed a kiss to my knuckles, and released me. “You better get going. I’ll text you and I’ll go home. Promise.”

As I headed for the car, I wondered whether Mom’s plan to stay home had anything to do with this. It seemed too convenient.

“Wait, Claire.” Haven jogged up to me and grabbed my hand. “Here. I couldn’t sleep last night, so I contacted Cain. He’s waiting for you to call this number and set up a time to meet with him.”

I wrapped my fingers around the slip of paper he pressed into them and nodded. “I’ll call later today.”

He nodded, then watched as I headed for the car. Our book bags were already loaded into the back seat. I slid in and tried not to notice the pleased expression on Mom’s face. Or the way her eyes scanned the surroundings the whole way to school.

She didn’t know where Haven’s mom was either. That gave me hope.

***

Grant slid his lunch tray next to me and took a seat. He played with his food, mumbling answers to my questions. Judging from the worried glances he kept sending my way, something big was up.

With a sigh, I put down my sandwich. “Quit poking at your food and tell me.”

“You’re going to get mad. I’m mad.”

“Grant. Just tell me.”

He shook his head, hunching forward. “You remember that girl who disappeared?”

“Melanie, right? Why?”

“There are some details I found out. Maybe they aren’t important, but…” His voice trailed off and he stared into his plate.

“Go on.” Apprehension tied my stomach in knots. I shoved my lunch back in the bag, my appetite gone.

“She disappeared at a Halloween party. The annual bash Bryan’s family hosts. He’s got a huge house and yard. He disappeared during the party for a good hour. Apparently no one has ever made the connection that Bryan and Haven were gone. They all focused on Haven.”

His jaw clenched in anger. “We asked him for help. Can you believe that?”

“You don’t know what happened that night. As much as I dislike it, we have to give Bryan the benefit of the doubt.”

Grant glared at me.

“Just because we’re Team Haven doesn’t mean Bryan is a murderer.”

Grant snorted. “Yeah, well, my bet’s still on him. I’m going to go get a bag of chips.”

He walked off, and two seconds later a shadow cut across the table, making my skin crawl.

“Why the gloomy face?” Bryan dropped into the seat next to me.

I scanned my eyes across the cafeteria searching for Grant. He stood in the lunch line, talking to Carlos and Jeremy. They took two more steps and disappeared into the register area, out of view.

“Go away, Bryan. We have nothing to talk about.”

“We could talk about Friday.”

I crossed my arms. “Not unless you’re going to tell me you’re going to the party your parents are throwing and give up on this ridiculous ghost hunt idea.”

“The only thing stupid about it is your attitude.” Bryan snapped. His good mood evaporated.

“That’s debatable.” I snorted and picked up my sandwich. “Why aren’t you helping to host this party? From what I hear around school it’s the place to be.”

“I’m hoping to make an appearance before the festivities start. Maybe when all this is over, you and I can bring them over to your house and finish the party there. Come on. What do you think, Claire? After we get all the boogie out of it, we can put some more back in?”

His arm slid around my shoulders, and I dropped the chips I had in my hand to the table. “I know,” I stated quietly, “you are not touching me and pretending we are buddies.”

“I thought we were,” he said.

I cut my eyes at him, and I knew my anger showed. Slowly he drew his arm away.

“Or maybe not.”

“Not until you realize how stupid this whole thing is.” I crumpled my trash in one fist. “Not to mention how dumb the idea of moving the party there is. You can forget about that. And as for the investigation—I’ll find a way to make you understand how dangerous it could be.”

The paper with Cain’s number suddenly seemed like a lead weight in my pocket. “I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for a reply, I got up, grabbed my lunch stuff and as I passed the trash can I dumped it in, then slid out of the lunch room doors and the few feet into the girls bathroom next door. I went into one of the stalls and pulled my cell phone and the number from my pocket.

After I typed in the number, I waited, butterflies in my stomach. This had to work.

“Hello?”

I almost jumped when the deep voice barked into the phone. “Hi. This is Claire Mallory. I was looking for Cain.”

“Haven said you’d call.”

“Did he tell you what I wanted?”

“Yes, and I’m very interested in what you have to say. Sometimes my wife jumps in before she has all the facts.”

I leaned against the cool cinderblock wall. “Great. When and where?”

“Tomorrow right after school lets out. I’ll wait for you at the cafe in Hanover.”

“I don’t have a car. Is there any way you can get to the coffee shop in the shopping center here?” It was near the school, so I could walk there. The walk home would be long, but it would be worth it to talk sense into someone.

“Sure. I think I can do that.”

I thanked him and ended the call. With a few more strokes of my fingers, I asked Grant to meet me outside the cafeteria. If Bryan was still there, he probably needed to leave before either of them said something they’d regret.

Less than five minutes later, he appeared with both our bags. “Thank you. I thought I’d have to kill him.”

“Glad I could prevent any bloodshed.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Any word from Haven?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. I’ve been checking my phone all day. I don’t want to text if he’s finally fallen asleep.”

I picked up my book bag and we headed down the hallway. There was only a minute until the bell.

“Just text him. We both know he’s not sleeping.”

I didn’t need much encouragement. I typed in a quick message, and before I could even put the phone away, I had a response.

“Nothing’s changed. No word from anyone,” I said. “But I’m sure it will be okay.” I tried to sound upbeat, but the whole time I saw the jacket and the blood-tinged rainwater staining my hands.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I didn’t see Haven again before the next day of school. Mom wasn’t home all night, leaving us a note about how she went out to help with the search for Haven’s mother. A text to Haven warned him of the possibility.

I called the house the next morning after I couldn’t get him on his cell phone. His grandmother answered.

“Hello Mrs. Elliot. I wanted to know if I needed to get Haven’s work from his teachers. I’d be happy to bring it over so he won’t get behind.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Her words were short and clipped. “I’ve insisted he attend school, but he won’t leave the house. Unbelievable behavior, if you ask me. He’s spent too much time in the company of disobedience.”

She obviously meant me.

“I will collect it from school later today for him. And I would appreciate it if you would not call or text him. His cellphone privileges have been restricted, and we have enough difficulties. Goodbye.”

The line went dead and I replaced the phone carefully. My heart ached for Haven. His grandmother was not a pleasant woman when happy. When unhappy…I would have to find a way to talk to him later. But for now, Mom waited outside.

Grant was already on the porch. As I approached, I marveled at how much she’d changed. Her facial features didn’t even seem the same anymore. They were more masculine, and crueler.

Behind me, the back room door, which I had found locked again in recent weeks, clicked and groaned as it opened. A short shadow with a distinctly feminine shape stood next to it and pointed. I froze, then realized that this was different. It lacked the hostility of the others. My brow furrowed and I exhaled hard. No cold spot either. This wasn’t like the others. I took two steps forward, reaching out with my mind. A name hovered just out of reach. It was so familiar…

“Claire!” Mom’s voice was a harsh bellow. The shadow fled, and the door closed again. “It’s time to leave.”

A frown gathered on my brow, but I went to the car. Mom fidgeted, her words brusque. Her eyes barely paid attention to the road on the way to school. Haven’s mother, if she was smart, would stay away from the house.

In my heart, I knew that wasn’t her plan. But I didn’t know why.

***

“Why are we walking all over creation instead of taking the bus?” Grant asked. “You don’t even like coffee.”

“I’m meeting the guy in charge of Spirit Searchers.”

“Really? He agreed to meet with you? Do you think he’ll listen?”

I ran a hand through my hair. “No, but Haven seems to think I should let them come if I really want help. They’re kind of it, apparently, when it comes to supernatural stuff around here.”

Grant shrugged. “Well, we definitely need help.”

“I don’t think anyone argues that.” I sighed. “I’d rather not do anything at Halloween, but we’re out of time. Something is going to happen, and it will be Friday night.”

“I kind of wish I could be at the party,” Grant sighed. “Party disasters will involve someone puking in the sink or dancing on the tables in their underwear. Ours has more potential for death and dismemberment.”

“Well,” I said. “Depending on their dance moves, it’s debatable.”

He laughed. “You must have seen Carlos dance, then.”

With a mock shudder, I nodded. “For the horrible skit in English. There’s true horror.”

Twenty minutes later, we stopped outside the tinted windows of the coffee shop. “Okay. Am I supposed to pretend like I don’t know you? Don some dark glasses? Leave when you give me the high sign and start running?”

“It’s not espionage, Grant.”

He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “I have the feeling only bad is going to come of this. I mean, why are you meeting him so far away from the house? You couldn’t do this over the phone?”

“It’s complicated. I want to meet him in person to let him know how serious I am. Otherwise, he might take me for the paranoid teenager Bryan and Laura are making me out to be.”

Grant sighed. “Lead the way, then.”

We went inside, and it took a matter of seconds before Cain’s huge frame stood and waved us over to a table in the corner. I handed Grant a ten and winked. “Your hush money. And get me a drink with lots of chocolate, while you’re at it.”

He gave me a thumbs up and headed for the line.

“I really appreciate you meeting me.” I took the chair he motioned to.

“Not a problem. To be honest, I’m glad you called. Laura’s a little too excited about this one, and I keep getting mixed information from the different people I’ve talked to. Your house is unique case.”

“It’s a time bomb.” I crossed my arms on the table. “Most ghosts don’t want humans there. They want help, and they want to leave. But this bunch doesn’t. They like having people in. Whenever we’re there, I get the impression they…” I struggled to find the words. “They want people to stay with them. To share in whatever happened to them.”

“Not a comfortable feeling.” Cain sipped at a large coffee. “But not a great reason to insist something’s wrong either.”

“They aren’t passive things that make it cold or move some objects. My mom has been possessed by one of them. Her face doesn’t even look the same anymore.”

Cain straightened in his seat, and his gaze narrowed. “That’s impossible.”

He said the words, but they lacked conviction.

“Whether you believe it or not, it’s true.”

“What else?”

Grant sat down next to us, and Cain shot him a curious glance. He relaxed into the seat and blew across the top of his coffee. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just here for the coffee.”

Cain sighed.

“I can’t describe it better than the spirits have been able to touch us, possess my brother for a time, and my mother completely. They used objects—gifts, my mother called them—to connect with the two of them. I think it has to do with the past. And I think somehow.” I took a deep breath, aware this was thin ice. “Bryan is involved.”

“How do you mean, ‘involved?’”

What could I say to express the weird way Bryan seemed connected to everything? “I believe it has a lot to do with the family history. But I also think there’s something else going on. Did you watch him when you were there? The way he looks around the house is like he’s terrified by it and ecstatic at the same time. He’s hiding a secret and the spirits in the house like him for it.”

“That’s not proof of guilt. Bryan is very enthusiastic. It’s natural for that to be mixed with fear in our field. Especially if you’ve told him the things you’ve told me.”

“So you don’t believe me?”

Cain shifted and shook his head. “Not exactly what I said.”

“That’s what you mean.” I curled my hands around my coffee cup.

“Listen, there are tons of explanations for the things going on. Do I believe you have ghosts? Absolutely. I’m not so certain you aren’t making them worse, though, in your head.”

Anger churned in my gut. “Bryan told you I’m psychic, right? I assume he’s also told you I’m overreacting?”

Cain colored and looked away.

“I’m not crazy, or imagining things. I speak to the dead. You want proof? Give me your hand.”

Cain didn’t move, then slowly stretched out one arm. I grabbed his hand, my eyes focusing inward rather than out. A small spirit flickered behind his right shoulder, jumping forward when it realized I could see. A lined, kind face formed.

“Your mother, Eileen, wants you to know she didn’t intend for things to happen like they did. Your uncle has the will. It’s in her old family bible.” I smiled. “She has some choice words for him I’m not going to repeat. Your father’s ring is inside a jewelry box you already have. Bottom drawer has a false panel. She’s very proud of you, and likes to watch over you. She’ll be around if you need her.”

I blinked, the spirit retreated, and Cain looked like I’d struck him.

Grant leaned forward and poked Cain’s shoulder. “It’s a neat party trick, right?”

He raised his brows at him.

Grant pointed a finger. “Hey, you’re the one who didn’t believe her.”

“Grant, shut up.”

“No, he’s right.” Cain rubbed the back of his neck. “I owe you an apology. I came here, having been warned off by Bryan. He said you were delusional about the house and told me a great deal about you. And it was all wrong.”

Relief flooded me and I took a sip of my coffee. “Thanks.”

“What exactly is your goal here?”

“Honestly, I wanted to warn you off completely at first. But—” I took a deep breath and released it. “We need help. Even if we could get Mom back to normal, we can’t move. I couldn’t live with myself if we sold it to some other family as it is. Plus, I’m certain Mom has dropped all her money into it. So it’s us or the ghosts, but someone has to go.”

I held his gaze. “I don’t want anyone coming in to help without being aware of the dangers first. Bryan is convinced he’s above it, and I think he’s got an ulterior motive, though I’m not entirely sure what it is.”

Cain nodded. “He’s intense about investigating, but he’s been especially so since we started studying your case. What he and my wife fail to remember is that we have a system in place for high-risk cases. Everyone must have a buddy, and we take only experienced and willing members who have been briefed beforehand. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“I appreciate this. Really. And if you need to know anything else, you have my cell number now, or you can call Haven.”

Cain glanced at his watch and mumbled a curse. “I hate to run, but I have to pick up my wife and have a talk about this with her. If anything else happens before we come on Friday, call me. According to your mom, she’s already arranged for you two to be out of school all day.”

I rose, shaking the hand he offered. “I’ll see you on Friday, then.”

He snagged his coat off the back of the chair, murmured a good bye again, and left. I pictured the wheels in his mind turning things over.

“Did you know we weren’t going to school Friday?” Grant asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

His eyes strayed to the doorway. “That doesn’t seem good.”

“We’ll worry about it when we get there. It’s only Tuesday. Come on, let’s go. I want to get home and see if I can get a hold of Haven.”

“I called Carlos while I got the coffee. He’s waiting outside to give you a ride home. I did not want to walk all that way, and he and I have a group project to finish anyway. Unless you need me, I’ll go with him and work on that.”

“Sure. You might as well get it done.” The less he was in the house, the safer he’d be.

Grant cleared his throat. “If you don’t want to go straight home, he could drop you by Haven’s instead.”

I slid on my coat. “No. His grandmother came home last night, and I’m a bad influence.”

He laughed. “Of course you are! Horrible.”

Following him outside, I tried to keep up the light-hearted banter. Grant waved to Carlos, who was waiting in his beat up sedan as promised.

I slid into the backseat and ignored the stench of cigarettes that clung to every surface.

“Thanks for picking us up, Carlos.”

He waved a hand and gave me a wide grin. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth. “No problem. Grant and I have to get this stupid thing done, and it’s a long walk back to your house.”

Grant was sitting in the front and they got into a discussion about some drama that had happened in class that day. I tuned them out, sitting back against the worn seats. That Mom already pulled us out of school on Friday worried me. Why? To help with the setup and interviews with the crew?

I doubted it.

So what did she really want? I had a hard time focusing on anything else during the ride home. Luckily, Carlos and Grant didn’t need my input in their conversation. I wanted to send Grant somewhere else, but I knew he wouldn’t go. Grant was as safe as we could make him in his room. Any attempt to get him out of the house now would be too obvious. Whatever was there seemed more interested in me anyway, for the moment. I just needed to keep it that way.

Carlos pulled up in front of the house, and I thanked him again. He stuck his head out the window, flicking the ash from the end of his cigarette. “You two are braver than I thought. I can’t believe you actually live there.”

I glanced behind me at the building. Improvements had been made inside, but so far only a few repairs had been made outside.

“Yeah. It’s…special.”

Carlos grunted. “Yeah. Later!”

Grant waved and tapped his cell phone, giving me a pointed look.

In a spray of gravel, Carlos pulled out. The silence after the rumble of his engine was gone made my ears throb. There weren’t even any birds singing. The house was silent when I walked in. I had expected Mom to be here.

A note rested on the counter, this one entirely in the curling script that didn’t belong to her.

I’d have left you dinner, but you wouldn’t have eaten it. I’ll be back late. There’s still a search party out looking for Haven’s mother, and I insisted on helping.

Still missing. I tossed the note in the trash and reached for the phone, dialing in Haven’s house number. The moment his grandmother heard me speak, she hung up. Frustrated, I used my cell and tried his phone. Nothing.

Haven’s grandmother was a piece of work. What had I done to deserve her hate? I didn’t dare walk over, because she probably wouldn’t even answer the door when she saw who it was. Haven had enough problems without my adding to them.

Chapter Twenty-Six

After I cleaned up dinner and showered, I gathered my homework in front of the television. Downstairs was more comfortable than up. Probably because here I could turn on the TV and pretend to be normal.

A loud knock on the door made me jump, and I spilled my math assignment all over the floor. Even so, a smile hovered on my lips. I’d hoped Haven would make an appearance or call. I took a girlish moment and ran my fingers through my hair before answering the door.

My smile died when I opened it to find Bryan instead of Haven. Inwardly, I winced. I didn’t need to deal with him right now.

“What do you want?” I went outside.

His face changed, his angry gaze hardening, a darkness creeping across his features that went beyond anger. The house was feeding off him. When he took a step toward me, I stumbled, and fell into the side of the door frame. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You had no right! Cain has put all kinds of restrictions on our ghost hunt here tomorrow night. Ridiculous things which could only have come from you. Do you know what you’ve done?”

“I’ve done what I needed to. You know this house is more than you can handle and you choose to ignore it. I can’t help it if you’re stupid about this whole thing, but I can try to minimize the damage.”

“This isn’t over, you know. You want our help? You’re going to have to beg me for it.”

My temper flared and I slapped at his face. While only a few fingers actually connected as he moved faster than I thought, it made a satisfying red mark across his chin. “You’re an idiot. I won’t beg. Whether you want to help or not, Cain will. I have more faith in him than in a half-crazed teenager.” I couldn’t seem to stop the words from coming out. “I wonder, Bryan, if there isn’t a secret of your own in all this. What sin are you trying to hide?”

He seized my arms, his grip so hard I felt like he’d snap my bones, and I cried out. His eyes were dark and hard, and my anger turned to fear.

“Think about what you’re doing, Bryan. You may be a prick sometimes, but this isn’t you.”

“How would you know? You’ve played me since the beginning. Made me believe you liked me, were interested in me. The whole time you were laughing. Are you laughing now?”

“Bryan, if I made you think we were anything more than friends, I didn’t mean to. You and I could never happen. You’re confused.”

He blinked, shook his head. His words were less confident this time. “You led me on, made me believe there was more between us. And now—”

I saw a blur come up the porch steps, and Haven’s fist rammed into Bryan’s jaw. He stumbled, his grip flinging me to the side as he released me and charged Haven. I dropped to my butt and slid into the railing.

Bryan had his arms around Haven’s middle, pushing him back into the house. Haven grunted and landed an elbow into Bryan’s back.

I pulled myself to my feet with a whimper. My arms and back throbbed, and I didn’t know whether to let them beat the crap out of each other or not. I watched them, until I realized I wasn’t the only one. I staggered, the thuds and grunts of Bryan and Haven fading as I saw the flickering images of ghosts. They were barely there. Almost completely transparent. At least three of them stood, watching, wide grins stretching their faces. They were sucking in the hate and aggression like soda up a straw.

“Stop it!”

They ignored me. With a prayer no one broke my nose, I stepped between them when they both paused for breath before the next round.

“I said, enough!”

I saw a fisted hand headed for my face and flinched, even as Haven wrapped his arms around my waist to pull me aside. Bryan managed to stop himself before his fist connected with my eye.

“You’re nuts,” Haven said. “You could have gotten hurt.”

I ignored him. My voice shook, but I managed to stand straight and look Bryan in the eye. “I think it’s time you left.”

“We aren’t done,” he said. Again, he shook his head, his intensity fading a bit. One hand brushed across his forehead, as if it hurt.

“Yes, we are. You’ll abide by Cain’s rules or you won’t come. I know the rules just as you do. Deal with it.”

He clenched his hands over and over, but finally turned and stalked down the stairs, disappearing into the darkness.

Haven pulled me into his arms and I buried my face in his shoulder, my sudden tears soaked into the cotton of his T-shirt. His hands rubbed wide circles on my back. I wanted nothing more than to burrow into his chest and let him deal with the world.

“Shhh. I’m here, Claire. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you should. Look at me!” I pushed away from him. “I’m a mess.”

His smile was soft. “But you’re my mess. And I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

I pressed my hands to my face, the tears coming again. “Why? Why do you love me? I’m not brave or strong or talented. I’m a wimp who can’t stay in her own house alone. The girl who can’t deal with a simple argument with a friend.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, his words sharp. “What Bryan did was nothing short of abuse. You aren’t to blame.”

“But he said I led him on. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t even know it!”

“Bull shit.”

I blinked.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Bryan sees what he wants, when he wants. Ignore him. Unless you want to call the cops, which I think you should.”

“No. I don’t think—” I stopped. “I don’t think he acted alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think there’s something wrong with him. Maybe it’s the spirits here, but it’s definitely got to do with the house.”

Haven shook his head and pulled me close again. “Don’t give him an out. People have made excuses for him for years. They’ll continue to do so for more. We don’t have to call the cops if you don’t want to. But if he touches you again, I promise I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

His statement should have worried me, but instead pleasure bloomed at his words. I am one sick puppy.

“Now let me see your arms.”

He pulled up the sleeves of my shirt, and already purple bruises formed where Bryan had grabbed my biceps. There would be others on my back where I hit the doorframe. I knew it.

Haven growled, his fingers caressing the spots lightly. “I don’t care what might have egged him on, this can’t happen again. I won’t allow it. You call me the next time he comes over.”

“How? You’re grounded.”

“I’ll get my cell phone back. Don’t worry about it.”

“All right, I’ll call.” I nodded. “There won’t be a next time though.” There was no question. I had no intention of being within several yards of Bryan again, no matter what happened.

“Come on, I’m not leaving until your mom and Grant get home.” He pushed the front door closed and twisted the key in the lock. “She’s not much protection, but he’ll be here, and that’s better than nothing.”

I blinked at him. “She won’t be home. She’s out searching with the last group for your mom. Grant won’t be back until late. He’s with Carlos again. Besides, your grandma will have a fit.”

“She’ll get over it. I’m not leaving.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He pulled me against him. “You’re still shaking. I’m staying. Quit arguing with me.”

I wanted him here. Staying alone in the house, with the ghosts sitting so pleased and happy at the top of the stairs did not appeal to me at all. It was silly, and very old-fashioned, but in the circle of Haven’s arms, I was safe. When he wasn’t there, I felt alone and unsure of myself. Stupid, really. I was not a weak, simpering female. At least against most things. But Bryan was bigger than me, and much stronger. He’d proven so this evening, and shaken my confidence. It was nice to have a champion. Mom would have tried, but I wasn’t even sure if she was inside there anymore. Then there was whatever lurked in the house, which fell into a whole other category. Having someone else there with similar abilities helped. Made me feel like we had a better shot.

Alone, I wasn’t sure I would survive this.

***

When I got up in the morning, I had a moment of total confusion. A large hand, not my own, was draped over my stomach. I turned my head, and Haven smiled. “I think we fell asleep.”

Daylight filtered through the windows. Mom would have come home a long time ago. I was surprised she hadn’t woke us and then read me the riot act.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“For what?”

I wrapped an arm around him and wriggled closer to his warmth. “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in months.”

He laughed. “Glad I could be accommodating.”

Footsteps thudded overhead, and I sighed. “That would be Mom. I’m surprised we’re both still alive.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong, Claire.”

“Didn’t you know?” I said, bitterness creeping into my smile. “Everything I do these days is wrong. Mom isn’t herself anymore.”

Saying the words aloud made me shiver. Telling someone else made it more real. Haven’s arm tightened around me, and his mouth drew into a tight line. “You think she’s really gone?”

“Yes. At first, it was like there was someone else whispering in her ear all the time. Like she couldn’t make any decisions without listening to what it had to say first.” I paused. “But now I can’t see her at all. Her face isn’t the same. I’m afraid if we try to force it out, it will kill her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault. I’m scared of what Friday will bring.”

“About that,” Haven said. “You should know I’ve been having dreams again.”

“What kind of dreams?” I looked up into his eyes, and the concern I saw there made my blood run cold.

“Yes, Haven. Do tell us about your dreams. Especially why you’re having them wrapped around my daughter on my couch.”

Mom’s words cracked in the air around us. I jumped, almost falling off the couch. Untangling ourselves from each other and the afghan took longer than it should have.

“Nothing happened.” The flush heating my face didn’t help my argument.

A snide comment about her not being my mother anyway died on my lips. For the first time, she looked more herself. Like whatever held her had relaxed its grip for a time.

She cradled a mug of coffee in her hands. “At what point did it become okay for you to have your boyfriend over when I’m not here to supervise?”

I stood. “It isn’t what you think.”

“Then enlighten me. I’d love to hear an explanation of why when I was out hunting for his mother, he was here sleeping with my child.”

I winced. She made it sound like a crime. “Bryan came over last night and got upset. He…pushed me around and he scared me. Haven came to my rescue.”

She snorted. “That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. Do you have any kind of proof?”

I lifted my sleeve to reveal my bruises. Haven stood silently behind me. Mom looked them over then flipped a hand. Tears burned the corners of my eyes. Behind me, Haven drew in a quick breath. Before our eyes, her features blurred. They grew more cut and hard. The cruel gleam was back in them, and I knew Mom had gone again.

“That could be from anything. I don’t know what to do with you, young lady.” Her gaze flicked to Haven. It flickered with coldness and excitement. “You, though, can leave now and not come back. A call to your grandmother might be in order as well.”

Without thinking, I grabbed Mom’s hands, pressing them into the hot ceramic of her mug, and opened my mind. Instead of one flickering spirit, two fluttered where my mother stood, one smaller and weaker than the other, but fighting.

She’s not yours to control. Let go of her.

A faint voice laughed and I heard the echo of a faint whisper. Not mine? See what happens when I release her but a little.

Pain pricked my hand, and I blinked, pulled back into myself. Hot coffee trickled down my arm, and Mom blinked, squinted at me as if seeing me for the first time. She smiled, her confusion receding. My heart beat double time when I saw the edge of suspicion bloom in her gaze.

“Are you having another breakdown, Claire? I know this has been hard. You wouldn’t normally do these kinds of things. Maybe I should call Dr. Hanover and see if he’ll come out.”

Haven made a strangled noise behind me, one of his hands resting on my waist. “Mrs. Mallory, I stayed with her to keep her company because she was upset. I didn’t mean to cause problems. It won’t happen again.”

“Whatever your excuse is, I think it’s time you head home now, young man.”

I reached behind and squeezed his hand when he didn’t answer right away. Tension thrummed through his body, I could feel it in the arm he had around my waist.

“All right. I’ll see you later, Claire.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek, whispering, “Call me. I’ll have my cell again. If not, I’ll see you at school.”

“Not likely,” Mom murmured as he headed out the door. “You aren’t going to be seeing him again if I can help it.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I drew a deep breath, my throat ached with the urge to yell. “Not fair.”

“Since when did fair come into play with us, Claire?” Her voice grew louder. “Your father cheating, being kicked out of our home, your brother fighting me at every turn: none of it is fair. Why should life be any different for you? Your trip to the asylum wasn’t easy on any of us, you know. It’s affected far more than you realize.”

I stumbled backward, searching her face. The entity was gone again, mostly. This was all Mom. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Mom, I don’t—”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You know, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve put up with enough from both of you. If you can’t keep it together, I really am going to have you evaluated again.”

It hurt more than I thought. Mom and Grant had been the only ones to believe me when I said I wasn’t nuts. Now, it seemed Mom had been holding out. Though I tried to tell myself it was the influence of the things in the house, it didn’t matter. For her response to be so forceful meant she had to have thought it at some point.

“You were thrilled when Bryan showed an interest in me.” I swallowed back tears. “Why is Haven any different?”

“Because I’ve heard disturbing rumors about him.” She waved a hand. “And he’s as crazy as you, thinking he can see the future. This isn’t up for discussion. You need to get ready for school. I have to get things done around here if we’re going to have guests.”

A slight frown creased her brow, and her eyes flicked around the room as if seeing it for the first time after a long absence. “When did you and your brother move all the furniture in here?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but she shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Confusion and worry made the lines around her eyes deeper. I wondered how much of her mind was tied into the spirit, and how much she’d missed because of her possession.

“Go get your bag, Claire. We’re done with this conversation.”

I sighed, and headed to my room. On the way, the dark shadow that opened the back room door appeared again, pointing. I glanced over my shoulder, but Mom hadn’t left the living room yet.

“What?”

Look inside. It has answers you need.

The spirit disappeared again, and I continued upstairs, not daring to turn around again. I needed in that room and I had to do it without Mom in the house. Grant emerged from his room, a sullen expression on his face.

“Grant, when we get to school we need to talk.”

“Okay. ’Cause that’s not at all vague and creepy.”

“It’ll cause problems for Mom. Does it help?”

He started down the stairs. “Count me in.”

We rode to school in silence. Mom barely spoke, her gaze focused straight ahead. She was back to being the same stranger she’d been for months, her brief return over with. I wondered what function it had served, other than to wound me.

I doubted it needed any other reason.

We jumped out, barely shutting the doors before she shot out of the parking lot. Grant turned to me, adjusting his overstuffed book bag on his shoulders. “Well? What do you want that we couldn’t discuss at home?”

“Lose the attitude, man. I didn’t plan on making her a raving bitch this morning.” When he raised an eyebrow, I rolled my eyes. “And we didn’t do anything. You could’ve warned us when you came in last night.”

Grant shrugged. “You looked peaceful. I figured you should get sleep while you can.”

“Can you create a distraction today?”

“Of what variety?”

“Anything that will require Mom to have to come to school. And won’t get you kicked out permanently.”

His eyes lit. “I can manage that. When?”

I checked my watch. “Halfway through second period. I’ll get Haven to take me home.”

Grant gave me a mock salute. “Will do. Can I ask why?”

“Think about it, Grant. Mom has gone out every day to help with the search for Haven’s mother. She hates Haven. That means she wants her. Now, suddenly, she’ll be home all day.” I swallowed. “I think she’s already found her.”

He didn’t need to know about the ghost and the room. It would only worry him.

“I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right.” Concern creased his brow. “Be careful, and make sure you have your phone in your pocket. Don’t be stupid.”

I batted my eyes. “Why Grant, what would make you think I’d do something stupid?”

“Yeah, innocent you aren’t. I have to go talk to Carlos and see what we can come up with for a distraction. See you later!”

I pulled out my cell phone, typing in a text asking if Haven had come. I’m sure his grandmother pushed him out the door at this point. If I were him, I’d rather be at school waiting for word than sitting at home with her.

The answer was instant.

Waiting outside the library.

I went inside and made a beeline for the library, which was right across from the entrance. Haven leaned against one of the large columns in front, his face drawn in deep thought.

“Hey.”

He straightened, reached out, and pulled me against his chest. “Hello. How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

He kissed me, at least until the librarian walked by and cleared her throat.

“Good morning, Mrs. Caynor.” Haven grinned.

She waved and shook her head.

“I’m sorry about this morning, Claire. I hope you weren’t in too much trouble?”

“No more than normal, really. Don’t worry about it.” I ignored the nerves dancing in my stomach. “But I know how you can make it up to me.”

“What?”

“I need a ride after first period.”

He struck a dramatic pose, his hand covering his heart. “Claire! Me? Skip class? You are such a bad influence.”

I smacked his shoulder. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t want your grandmother to be disappointed in me.”

He pursed his lips. “I heard. Another thing I have to apologize for. My grandmother is not the easiest of people to get along with.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. Luckily, it’s senior year, so I only have to deal with her for the next couple months. Once I graduate, I’m out of there.” He linked hands with me.

“Have you heard anything else about your mom?”

He shook his head, the sadness returned to his face. “No. The sheriff’s department and the people who volunteered have covered all the territory they can think of. Other than the coat, no one has found anything. They’re hoping someone picked her up and she’ll be found in another town close by.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

We stood in silence, and my nerves grew more insistent. I hadn’t planned on telling him what I intended, but the more I thought about it, the more certain I became.

“Why are we leaving after first block?” Haven asked.

“Because I think I might know where your mom is.”

His entire body froze, mid-step, and went stiff as a board. “What?”

“Think about it. We found the jacket between our houses. My mom has been going out on the search parties all week. Until today.”

“You think she’s in the house.”

I pulled him to the side outside the classroom. “Look me in the eye and tell me you hadn’t suspected she was headed for the house all along.”

He met my gaze, then looked away. “I’m going in with you.”

“No, you’re not. Grant is creating a distraction during second period so mom will have to leave the house. You’re going to be my look out while I go in and hunt for her.” I didn’t mention the ghost who would unlock the door to another room for me.

“But—”

“No buts. This is how it’s going to work. We can’t both be inside, and you need to be outside, waiting for her. Chances are good she’s going to come running out and she needs a familiar face ready for her outside.”

He shivered, and a frown creased his brow. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. Will you help?”

“Of course. You just make sure both of you come out.”

***

By the time the bell rang to end first period, I had fidgeted so much the teacher stopped me on the way out to ask if everything was okay. I managed what I hoped was a convincing yes and slid out the door, where Haven waited in the hall. Bryan had been there, but didn’t so much as glanced in my direction. It suited me fine. I still didn’t know whether to be angry or afraid of him.

“Do you know what Grant’s got planned for his distraction?” I asked. Grant had answered none of my texts during class.

Haven rubbed his nose and looked away. “Do you?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did.”

He relaxed. “Let’s leave it like that.”

“Wait—is it that bad?” I looked back to the math hall, where Grant should be headed next. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

Haven grabbed my hand and tugged. “He’ll probably get suspended for a couple days, but no one will get seriously hurt.”

“I don’t like the way you said seriously hurt.”

We exited the doors, and I released a long breath. With all the sneaking around we’d been doing, I should have been used to the sensation of breaking the rules. But it tied my stomach in knots.

“We’ve got to park at your house and walk to mine,” I said, climbing into the car.

Haven didn’t waste any time getting there. We parked, jumped out of the car, and headed straight for the woods. Luckily, his grandmother didn’t come out before we made our way into the brush. We could explain later.

A few minutes later, we crouched behind two large holly bushes and watched the house.

“Are you sure about this?”

I pulled my coat closer. “Yes. Now stop asking me. This should be easy. If your mom comes out, make sure you stop her before she gets lost again.”

“She might run, Claire. She might not even recognize me. The house drove her to the brink of madness once. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge.”

“Go after her. Don’t wait on me. It’s my home, after all.”

A door slammed and we watched Mom stomp down the steps, get into the car, and fishtail out of the driveway.

“Here we go.” I pushed to my feet.

Haven grabbed my lapel and pulled me to his chest for a quick kiss. “Be fast, and don’t do anything stupid.”

I winked. “Who, me?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When I opened the door, it was like I’d walked into another dimension. Every noise was muffled, as if wrapped in cotton. I crept to the door of the back room, resting my hand on the doorknob. The brass held a faint chill which had nothing to do with fall.

“All right, whoever you are. A little help?”

The metal warmed slightly, the lock clicked, and the knob turned under my fingers. I jumped, whispered a thank you and pushed my way inside.

A path had been cleared out of the piles of junk and boxes to an old desk Mom had polished until it shone. Every item on the surface was neat as a pin and placed just so. The rest of the room was in a jumble, but the piles were stacked neatly.

I sat at the chair, unsure where to begin. A manila folder rested to the side, and I opened it. A list of names in long, curling script flowed down the yellowed paper. The ink had faded in spots, but next to some names, I recognized a plus sign.

I didn’t know what it meant.

Beneath it, a water stained photo with yellow tape stuck to one edge caught my eye. I lifted it, bringing it close in the dim light. Ernest Livingston stood in the center, looking sullen. Beside him, seated in a chair, sat a willowy thin woman with light hair. Despite the stoic faces around her, she seemed to exude a sense of acceptance, if not peace. On the left, one hand tucked into the front of his dark waistcoat like Napoleon, stood a man. His features were craggy, with no hint of softness. Thick sideburns made the effect even more menacing.

Instantly, I knew it was Horace Gunderson. I put the photo to the side, before going back to the list of names. At the bottom, my mouth went dry. My name, in neat letters, along with Mom, Haven, Haven’s mother, and Grant, were all penned in with plus signs.

Not plus signs. A voice whispered.

Crosses.

The list marked the dead. I dropped it as if it burned my fingertips and began to search through the drawers. Everything was placed so particularly, I didn’t touch very much. Mom had never been so neat. This was an office. I paused, mentally superimposing Horace’s face over Mom’s. That had to be the answer. He was the one possessing her. I renewed my search, being less careful, though I still tried to keep from messing everything up. Frustration made me grit my teeth. In the last drawer, stuck to the side, was a folded letter. I pulled it out and started to open it. A thud echoed through the house.

A sense of foreboding made sweat pop out on my brow and I threw the photo and list back into the folder, tapping it on the desk to straighten everything. A smaller piece of paper popped out, as if pulled by unseen hands. It floated to the floor, and I put the stack back on the desk before picking it up.

Another list, but this time, there were names and abbreviations. Some had lines drawn through them, some had the letters after the named scribbled out and changed. Others had stars marked.

I ran a finger down the list.

Ernest Levingworth – TLP

Julia Sampson – TLK – N/A

Margaret Elliot – MD ***

My brow furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Look at the back.

I jumped at the whisper, but nothing about it was like the others. I flipped the page over and my heart pounded harder.

Claire Mallory – MD, TLP *****

The script was the strange mix of Mom’s and the foreign loops and coils. This had been written a while ago. Everything she wrote now was completely in that unfamiliar, old-fashioned hand.

I looked around me. “What do the letters mean? I don’t have time to figure this out!”

It seemed like I heard an annoyed sigh, followed by another reluctant whisper.

MD – Medium.

I looked at the list of names and my eyes widened. This place collected psychics. MD meant medium. TLP could be telepathic. Some were marked TLK—telekinetic. Horace was doing experiments on psychics. It all made sense now.

Another thump and a faint moan brought me to the present. I shoved the letter and list in my pocket and closed all the drawers before heading for the door. As I opened it wide to leave, light caught the edge of a stack of photos in a box near the door. I lifted it, drawn to see what they held.

Many were of the inmates in various places in the house. Some were sad. Most were obviously propaganda designed to make it look like a summer retreat rather than a prison.

Two made me gasp. One was of the willowy beauty, her belly round with child, smiling up at someone who looked so much like Haven, I had to search for the differences.

The other had the woman standing with a man in a formal portrait. They both looked unhappy. But what brought more goose bumps to my arms was that it looked like Bryan.

Hurry!

A voice whispered, and I folded the two photos up and shoved those in my pockets. Then I slipped out and pulled the door shut. My heart pounded as my mind tried to wrap itself around the significance of what I’d found.

I crept upstairs, forcing myself to breathe. Any moment, I was certain one of the spirits would sound an alarm. Silence reigned, both psychically and physically.

The third floor brought a new kind of stillness. The moment I stepped off the stairs and into the hallway, pressure pushed against me. In my mind, spirits wavered and waited behind closed doors. My stomach tightened. There were more now. More of them than ever before. How many had been tortured? Their gifts were why he’d brought them here and what made them so powerful in death.

I rubbed my ears, feeling like I should be popping them. Pausing at each to listen, I made my way past the doors. No sound emerged, not even the normal creaks and groans of an old house. I tested each door knob. All were locked tight.

I got all the way to the end and found nothing. Fisting my hands on my hips, I studied the expanse of wood floor in front of me. She was here. I knew it. I’d felt her presence—briefly, but it had been there.

Which meant the spirits in the house hid her from me. So close to Halloween, I had no chance of overpowering them myself. I needed to look for her with my power alone.

Sweat dampened my palms and I rubbed them on my jeans. Once I started this, I had to be fast. Mom would know what I was doing, and she’d be back. With a deep breath, I opened my mind. Shrieks made me flinch and grab at my ears, though I knew it wouldn’t help.

Where I normally saw sparks of light and shadowy figures, the forms of the ghosts were much clearer. Five women paced and stormed around the rooms to my right. To my left, three men and Ernest pushed against their confines. In the middle room, a woman cowered, her form brighter and more solid.

Haven’s mother.

I moved to the door, struggling to cut out their curses and cries. The effort it took made my hands tremble and sweat to bead on my brow.

I can block them, unlock the door, but I will not be able to leave here.

The voice was deep and sad. I turned my head, my hands still jerked on the doorknob. The presence was familiar, and I blinked. Vale was not what I expected. He couldn’t have been Haven’s father. While they had similar features, this man was dressed in Victorian blacks.

His great-grandfather. I’ve been looking after them, trying to prevent history from repeating itself. I was certain it would happen with my granddaughter. He nodded to the door. But it isn’t her at all.

His dark eyes bore into mine, and nausea churned in my stomach. “Me?”

I could be wrong. I have been, often, over the years. For your sake, I hope so.

A burst of darkness blew through the house, and I almost fell to my knees. It felt like needles were being driven behind my eyes. “Help me, please. She’s almost back.”

Vale dissolved into nothing, and I frowned. It seemed suddenly darker in here than it had before.

Beneath my hand, the lock clicked, and the door gave in to my shove. Haven’s mother, disheveled and whimpering, rocked in the far corner of the room.

“Mrs. Elliot?” I took slow, measured steps toward her. Up close, I saw her arm was cut and caked with dried blood and dirt.

Her head turned toward me, and only a tiny flicker of recognition moved the madness in her gaze.

“Please don’t hurt me.” Her voice not more than a broken whimper.

I moved closer. “I wouldn’t. I want to get you out of here.”

She pressed her hands to the sides of her head. “God, there are so many voices. And Vale, he has stopped them, but he’s left me now.”

Lightly, I touched her shoulder. It was like setting a match to gunpowder. She flung herself at me, screeching, pushed me to the side. I fell against the rickety cot, curling into a ball and bouncing to the floor.

Haven’s mother fled, like the hounds of hell nipped at her heels. I wondered if they did. Pain radiated up my elbow where it cracked against the floor. I blinked back sudden tears, and in the instant between one breath and the next, Mom stood in the doorway.

“Surprised to see me?” She shook her head. “There are more things about the supernatural than you will ever understand.”

“What are you trying to accomplish with all this?” I asked. What do we have that you want so badly?”

“Tsk. I’ve been around long enough to see this scenario on your modern television shows. I’m not reciting my plan while you wait for the cavalry. For you, there will be none.”

I pulled my feet underneath me, crouched now, rather than sitting. “It doesn’t make sense. Why me? Why us?”

She took another step in, and I lunged for the door. There should’ve been room for me to slide past, but I found myself flung against the doorframe. I slid down, my body aching where it hit the corner of the wood.

“I know who you are.”

Mom’s laugh was deeper than it should have been. “I’m not the villain in a fairy story, my dear. I do not break at the sound of my own name.”

Dread mixed with the fear rising in my gut and I struggled to keep control of myself. Mom’s smile grew wider.

“So much stronger than the others. You’ll do quite nicely.”

With one foot, she shoved at me, and I rolled to my side. I tried to reach out and grab her, but my body didn’t respond like it should have. My limbs were heavy, weighed down as if several people held me back.

“Something to leave you with, Claire Mallory,” Mom said as she stepped into the hall. “You know about ghosts and the dead. Have you ever wondered why psychics never linger behind as ghosts?”

The door closed, and I struggled to sit up. The weight on my body increased, pushing me into the floor, slamming against the barriers in my mind. Each spirit picked at the barrier, trying their hardest to chip away at it. Tears streamed down my face as I fought the pain and poured all my energy into keeping them out.

Until everything faded to black.

***

“Finally, sleeping beauty awakes!”

A thin, black-clad pre-teen with a faded purple dye job sat cross-legged near me. Sunlight streamed through the small dormer window, dust motes dancing in the beams.

“What the hell happened?” I croaked. As I pushed myself upright, my head throbbed and I stifled a moan.

“You got lucky. And your guards…” She whistled softly. “I’ve never seen anyone who could keep them up even when unconscious.”

I blinked, then realized my vision wasn’t screwy. The other girl really was fuzzy around the edges, and in some spots her pale skin was transparent.

“You’re one of them.” Instantly, I was on alert. “What do you want?”

“First, I’m not one of those losers. I’m a free agent. As for what I want…” she trailed off. Her expression lost some of its attitude. She looked sad, young, and vulnerable. “I want to go home and take it all back. But that can’t happen now. What I need, you can’t give yet.”

Something clicked in my head. The clothes, the speech, her age. “Melanie?”

She examined her chipped nails and smirked. “Took you long enough.”

“If I can’t give you what you want, why are you here?”

“To help you.”

Suspicion made me wary. No one in this place did anything without a reason. “Why?”

“Because I can’t move on until some requirements are met. You are the only one who can fulfill those needs.” She narrowed her eyes. “I think, anyway.”

“I can try to help. What are they?” The sunlight dimmed a bit, and I shivered. My hands rubbed at my temples, trying to ease the painful ache.

Melanie tilted her head. “Not yet. Not until I’m sure. Otherwise I’m telling my plan to the enemy.”

“I’m not your enemy.”

She snorted. “That’s what the others say, but they ended up here, shadows of themselves, consumed and broken by their own darkness.”

“Tell me, then. Why are they all here? Why show me what’s in the room downstairs?”

“They’re here because they have to be. As for why show you, it’s kind of obvious. You need answers.”

If she’d been corporeal, I’d have shaken her. “Now you’re being vague on purpose.”

“You figured out who’s in possession of your mom. He’s holding us all here, and vice versa. He took our lives, and we’re making sure we keep him miserable with us. While he was here, he tried a lot of experiments.”

I hadn’t realized it was possible for a ghost to pale, but Melanie did. “Some of the things aren’t pretty. I can’t get anyone to tell me what he wanted to accomplish. All I know is something went horribly wrong. Now they’re trapped here, and they think you’re their ticket to freedom.”

“What about Haven’s mother?”

Melanie flipped her hand. “They tried on her first, but she wasn’t strong enough. They wanted her to come back so they could absorb her into them. They don’t want to be alone. Being dead and a ghost is like being in the middle of a crowded room, screaming your head off, bleeding to death, and people just step over you. They want payback for years of being ignored in the flesh and after.”

I pushed myself off the floor and onto the cot, doing my best not to think about what the dark stain in the middle could be. Cradling my head in my hands, I groaned. “What does this have to do with me and the parting comment about being psychic?”

Melanie opened her mouth, and then closed it. A low hiss started from the other side of the wall.

“My time is about up. I can’t answer that, or they’re going to come after me.”

“What exactly does a ghost have to fear from another ghost?”

“Let’s hope you never have to find out.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Before I could comment, Melanie smirked and walked through the door. The whispers began again and I groaned, pushing against the noise. Taking the few steps to the door, I grabbed the handle and jerked on it. It didn’t even rattle. The door and knob might as well have been carved from a solid piece of marble. I couldn’t even keep hold of it long, the icy metal biting into my palm.

I pounded on the door, but all I accomplished was bruising my hand. The window was tiny, and I headed there next. Outside, I noticed Mom’s car in the driveway. The sun hovered over the treetops, so I knew evening approached. As I watched, Haven emerged from the woods and disappeared under the porch awning below me. I strained to hear anything, but only the faint sound of a door closing below me indicated anything had happened. Haven emerged, his gaze trailed over the house. I pounded on the window, waving my arms and yelling.

He didn’t notice.

“Stop it.” Melanie poked her head through the wall next to me. “You’re only going to draw trouble for yourself. He can’t see you. Horace will make sure of that.”

“If you aren’t going to help, then buzz off, Melanie.”

She flipped me the bird and disappeared again.

Haven turned and headed toward his house, his shoulders sagged. I leaned my forehead against the cold window glass, my breath fogging the panes. With one fingertip, I traced the word HELP. It faded before I’d even finished.

I went back to my seat on the cot, massaging my temples. The voices were always there in the back of my mind, like cicadas buzzing in summer. If I focused, they grew loud and maddening. But if I turned my attention elsewhere, I could pretend they were white noise.

Something poked the side of my leg and I shifted, pulling out the photos and letter. My cell phone fell out with them.

“Dear God, why didn’t I think of that one sooner?” I muttered, pressing he power button.

Nothing happened. I popped out the battery and replaced it, but still the screen stayed blank. I cursed and resisted the urge to throw it across the room. Of course the thing was dead. I was in the middle of ghost central, and things with batteries had a tendency to run dry when the paranormal was involved.

I picked up the letter and unfolded it gently. The paper was soft, the creases floppy, like it had been opened and closed many times.

Dear Margaret,

I have no way to ever adequately express my dismay and apologize for what has happened. Had I been able to contact you or your family, I would have. Your brother will not allow me access even to send a letter to your parents explaining things. I fear I have only caused more damage.

Be strong for me, and for the child. I will fight to free you from this mess as best I can, and as soon as I can. I miss you, and I know this will pass. Do not fear. It is the stress of the situation causing these strange dreams and visions. Do not allow them to make you believe you are something you are not.

I will write again tomorrow, and every day after if I must.

With love,

Your Devoted Husband, Vale.

“Sickeningly sweet, isn’t it?” Melanie popped up, perched behind me on the cot. “So glad I didn’t have to live back then.”

A snide comment about being dead came to my lips, but I swallowed it back. No use provoking her. I needed an ally.

“Why can’t I hear anything? Why can’t anyone hear me?”

“Right now, all the attention is on you. Trying to make a point and all. Eventually, it’ll change. I’ll help you out as best I can, but we really need to hope someone knows you were here and will come hunting for you.”

“Haven will.”

Melanie made a face. “Future boy. Yeah. Probably. The way you two lock lips and make googly eyes at each other freaks me out, but it might be good for something after all.”

I chose to ignore her.

Melanie propped her head on one hand.

A sudden, unrelated thought struck me, and I wanted to bang my head against the wall. If I couldn’t get answers to everything, there was one question I could find out the answer to.

“Melanie, who killed you?”

“Jesus, I thought you would never get around to asking.”

“Well?”

“It wasn’t Haven or Bryan. At least”—she shrugged—“Mostly not them.”

“Mostly?”

“Don’t worry about the details. All you need to know is that it was the thing inside this house.”

“Horace? But how did your body get outside?”

Her face scrunched into a sour expression. “I’m not sure. Dying is quite a shock, y’know. I wasn’t really all here until well after the body was found.” She paused, and I thought maybe she’d say more. Instead, she fiddled with one of her necklaces. “Have you ever noticed how the house sighs? There seems to be a lot of rage?”

“Really? That’s what you want to talk about right now?”

“Hey, I’m only pointing out that you might be missing a few things here. Like the fourth floor.”

“There is no fourth floor.”

“Sure there is. You just haven’t found it yet. And when you do”—her tone lost the mocking edge—“be sure of yourself. If you aren’t, it’ll be the last thing you remember before you really are driven mad.”

“What’s up there? Why hide it?” I pointed at her. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you aren’t answering all my questions.”

She pinched at the photo of Bryan, trying to grasp it though her fingers went straight through. “The answer is up there.”

“Who is up there?”

“Ah, grasshoppa, you now ask correct questions,” she said.

I raised a brow.

“She is up there. And don’t ask for her name, because I won’t say it. The moment you do, she’ll turn her attention to you, and no one wants that.” Her shoulders hunched, the terror evident in her eyes.

“This place is a maze of riddles.”

“You have no idea. There are things even I don’t know. No one will talk about it.”

We sat in silence, and I reread the letter again, looked over the pictures. Melanie lounged against the other wall. I held up the picture of the woman and her brother.

“If all of you are here, why did she get to move on?”

“You assume she has.”

“I haven’t sensed her.”

“She’s stronger than the rest of us. If she doesn’t want you to know she’s here, you won’t.”

“Why wouldn’t she want me to know she’s here?”

Melanie shifted, her eyes darting around the room. “You’re starting to ask questions best left unanswered. I can’t tell you anything else.”

“Why?”

“You know those kids whose parents indulge them because they were an ‘oops’ or because they spend all their time at work?”

I nodded.

“I’m the ghostly equivalent. I wasn’t supposed to be the one to die, but I did, so I’m allowed more freedom. Like the ability to move between roo—”

Between one breath and the next, Melanie winked out. I didn’t think she intended on it either. A spurt of worry surprised me. She rubbed me the wrong way, but I didn’t want her to end up suffering because of me. My earlier question came back to mind: if a ghost didn’t have to worry about dying again, what would be left to fear?

Who was “she?” And what about this fourth floor? My mind whirled with questions. None of it made any sense, and yet I could almost see the connection if I focused hard. It was there, just out of reach. I let out a frustrated groan. Finding a way out needed to come first. Otherwise, the rest wouldn’t matter much anyway.

I paced the room, measuring it in steps. Twelve across. Fourteen from door to window. One rusting cot with questionable mattress. A broken chair in the corner, and a cracked porcelain basin on an antique washstand with a huge mirror. I moved next to it, my fingers running over the rough, dingy porcelain. The mirror was cracked in one corner, scratched, and frosted by age.

As I looked into it, something moved behind me. I whirled, but nothing met my gaze. The light from the window dimmed, and I rolled my eyes.

“Of course. Everyone needs mood lighting when trapped in a haunted house by ghosts.”

I turned back, and a weathered face stared back. I cried out and backed away. The face tilted, slowly, looking me over. The lips had been sewn shut, but the eyes were hard and bright.

“What do you want?”

The brows drew closer, and anger deepened the lines.

Heat flushed my cheeks. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

The voices in my head subsided a bit, and a rough, deep voice came to the front.

You will give them what they want.

“I hate to break this to you,” I said. “But I doubt that. It seems like you guys all want me dead, and I’m not ready to go yet.”

Before it is over, you will. No one can hear you. No one will find you. You’re ours. At our mercy. We have none.

“All the same, I’m not giving in because you say so.”

Won’t matter. You’ll give. We all did, and you’re no better.

I frowned, then braced myself, moving closer. “Not better, but definitely different. I’m not going to die here.”

I grabbed the basin and swung into the mirror with all my strength, squeezing my eyes shut and turning away. The mirror cracked, and the basin shattered. I opened one eye. Now the angry face stared at me from a thousand shards of fissured glass, still held in the frame.

“Damn. They don’t make mirrors like this anymore.”

Without another word, the pressure built, and I ran for the cot, grabbed the mattress, and yanked it from the bed. The mirror shattered as if someone detonated a bomb from the other side. Shards sprayed the room, hitting the walls with dull thuds. I held the bed out in front of me, using it as a shield. Pain sliced across my exposed fingers, but the worst was caught in the material.

I dropped it, flexing my fingers. Blood ran down my hands, and I picked out a few large pieces of glass.

“Shit.” There was nothing in the room I could use as a bandage, so I grabbed a large chunk of glass from the mattress and pulled at the t-shirt under the coat I wore. I grimaced at the image of The Princess Bride and cursed again. “I loved this shirt.”

I hacked at the hem with the piece of glass, cutting more of my fingers in the process. After five minutes, I had a shirt several inches shorter, and fabric tied in awkward knots around my fingers. It wasn’t ideal, but in the process, I learned most of the cuts weren’t deep. Thank God for small favors.

I buttoned my coat shut over my now exposed midriff, and sat on the floor. This wasn’t quite how I envisioned this whole operation ending. If something didn’t give soon, I’d end up like Haven’s mother, or worse. The parting line about psychics never being ghosts inched its way into my subconscious

I racked my brain, and she was right. You never heard about psychics haunting somewhere. While I didn’t know why, somehow the thought made me queasy. What did they want from me?

“Stop thinking so hard, Claire.” The sound of my own voice broken into the stillness like a hammer through ice. “You can handle this. You have handled worse.”

Except then, I knew I would be leaving. This time the outcome was uncertain. My hopes all rested with Haven and Grant. The best I could hope for was that they would find me soon.

***

I’m not sure how long I sat there, curled against the wall in the corner, with the mattress propped up as a makeshift shield. I focused my energy on breathing, ignoring the burn of hunger in my gut. It was hard, but I kept the whispering, angry voices out of my head.

They pressed hard, as if testing my mind, looking for weaknesses. The room grew cold as the light from the window dimmed and then disappeared entirely. The darkness nearly put me over the edge. It was complete and as thick as molasses. I waved a hand in front of my nose, and could only see a hint of movement if I strained my eyes.

Shivering, I whispered more prayers than I ever had in my entire life combined. Anything to get out of the room.

Anything?

“Shut up.” I snapped. Needing to move and stretch, I shifted the mattress to the side and got to my feet. I kept my fingers on the wall and made my way to the window. There were no stars. Only darkness and a faint yellow light from the porch. Nothing that could help me. Water slapped against the glass as I watched, and a drizzle started.

It fit the mood pretty well.

I moved back to my corner and curled up again, resting my head on my knees. The rain drummed a soft rhythm on the roof. Despite everything else, my eyes grew heavy. This was no time for sleep. I could feel eyes on me, watching and waiting. They’d already proven they could do damage if they wanted.

A giggle, high-pitched and breathy, echoed from the other side of the room. Adrenaline rushed through me, and my whole body froze. I strained my ears, listening for anything else. Long moments stretched, but there was nothing but silence in the blackness. As I started to relax again, the sound of small feet approaching made me grab the mattress barrier.

A faint bluish glow began in the center of the room, five feet from me. At first I thought my eyes played tricks on me. But it grew, the center growing intense, like the center of a flame. As it got larger, the glow became the hazy outline of a young girl, long ringlets surrounding a chubby face, with a lopsided bow peeking over the top of her head. She wore a blue dress and a white frilly pinafore.

Terror brought a cold sweat to my forehead. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop my mouth.

“What is this? My own personal version of The Christmas Carol? I don’t know if you all have noticed, but it’s the wrong time of year.”

The cherubic smile morphed into a snarl, then back again. The change happened so fast, I could have imagined it. Didn’t matter. I remembered that pinafore and mouth of needle-teeth. She drew close enough for me to see the stitching in her clothing, and I pressed my back against the wall.

Help me.

“Not a chance.”

You can’t leave me here to decay like the rest. Look at me. I did not deserve the fate I’ve been sentenced to.

I snorted. “Big words for a small girl.” Her smile slipped and the image wavered, and I caught glimpse of a more horrifying vision. “It’s a good likeness though, I must give you credit for that.”

You refuse?

“Helping you would be like mistaking a shark for a guppy. I’m not stupid.”

Please. Big crocodile tears welled up in the small face.

Though it did tug at my emotions, I had seen what lay beneath, and I knew better than to believe it. I shook my head. “You’re lying in word and form. Who are you really?”

Not who. What. I am your nightmares, each one, merged into one form.

Great.

“Is this the plan? Annoy me to death?”

You can’t fool us. We know you.

I stood up. I might end up dead or mad, but I wasn’t going to do it cowering in a corner. “Like hell.”

Not like. This is hell.

Chapter Thirty

The child in front of me flickered, like a television image during a bad storm. Each time she blinked in and out, the image alternated with some of the other ghosts. The woman with soulless eyes, another blond-haired woman with no face, just patches of skin sewn on with clumsy stitches. Men, children, all of them with various gruesome facades.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but the images were in my mind as well. The voices started again, more distinct this time. Louder. Each one cried out for different things, but all of them insisted only I could provide what they needed.

Peace.

Revenge.

Love.

Life.

Death.

Emotion and need mixed together until it was as if I was the only still point in a world spinning out of control. I hugged myself, forced back bile that burned the back of my throat. I knew I had to keep them from getting any further in my head. If I couldn’t, I’d be trapped in this hell with them for eternity.

Abruptly, everything stopped. The pressure released, and I found myself lying on the floor, my knees throbbing. A whimper escaped and I curled into a ball. Pain radiated through my temples, and tears wet my cheeks.

You will not listen. A challenge we have yet to encounter.

There was a pause.

It is more enjoyable than we expected, but it cannot last.

The voice was softer, distracted. I didn’t know what had turned its attention, but I prayed it took it farther away.

Maybe God heard me. Maybe I got lucky. Either way, as I passed out again, the voices seemed more distant.

***

Melanie stood over me when I opened my eyes.

“I really hope you aren’t going to make a point of this.” I threw an arm over my eyes.

As soon as I sat up three things because apparent: I needed food, the bathroom, and a bottle or two of aspirin.

“Get up already. Haven’s in the house, looking for you.”

“What?” I got to my feet, grabbing the bed frame for support when the room spun. I stumbled to the door, pounding on it with all the strength I had left.

“You’re a wuss.” Melanie’s lips turned up in disgust and she stuck her head through the wall. “He’s coming upstairs. They’ve still got you in here soundproof. You’re going to have to do better than a tap on the wall.”

My mind only focused on Haven’s name. I debated opening myself up and reaching out for him, even started.

Melanie managed enough energy to zap me. “Stop it. Why else do you think they allowed him in here? They aren’t stupid. Unlike some people.”

I kicked at the door, screamed at the top of my lungs. The walls absorbed the noise like a sponge. I slammed my knuckles into the door and let out a frustrated screech. “I am not going to die in this room like a rat!”

Melanie stuck her head out again. “He’s down the hall, but he looks confused. Keep going!”

I yelled his name, over and over, pounded the door with one fist, and rattled the knob with the other. Then, and it was so slight I almost didn’t notice, the door handle seemed to warm a bit.

Melanie jumped back. “He’s out there. I think he can actually hear you.” She stared at the door, almost as if she were trying to decide if this was okay or not.

Faintly, as if from a distance, I heard Haven’s muffled voice. I renewed my yelling and pulled hard on the handle. Melanie stood off to the side, growing fainter. She saw my glance and waved.

The doorknob turned, and I jumped out of the way as the door burst open.

“Claire!”

I launched myself at Haven, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Thank you, God. Thank you, Haven!”

He kissed me, hard, and I returned it, my hands fisting in his shirt. He kept it brief, pulling away and grabbing my hand. “We have to get going before your mom gets back.”

“Where’s Grant?”

“He’s already at my house, entertaining my grandmother.”

We headed downstairs. I nearly fell on the last flight when the little girl appeared at the bottom. Haven paused, pushing me behind him with one arm.

“No effing way,” I snarled, one hand outstretched. “She’s going to let me pass, or I’ll show her what hell could be like.”

The smile on those childish lips widened, revealing her unnatural teeth. Haven grunted, and my hair stand on end. Instead of staying put, I grabbed his hand and barreled through, gasping at the cold that passed over me when I ran through her.

Haven gasped but didn’t pause, following close behind me. I threw open the front door and nearly toppled down the front steps. He hooked his hands under my arms, pulled me against his chest again.

Outside, I finally felt like I could breathe, but my knees were unsteady and I allowed Haven to worry about keeping me upright.

“That was really stupid.”

“They weren’t going to stop us.” I turned in his arms and rubbed my cheek against his chest, making sure he was real.

“You couldn’t know for sure.”

Hysterical laughter broke free from my chest. “Yes, yes I can. After the night I spent…” A thought crossed my mind, and my chest tightened with panic. “It was only one night, right? It’s still Thursday?”

Haven made a low growl in his throat. Moisture shimmered in his eyes. “It’s still Thursday.”

I dropped my forehead to his chest. “Thank you for coming back. If it had been any longer…”

The tension of the moment was broken by a long rumble from my stomach. Haven kept an arm around my waist and pushed me toward the woods. “Come on, we’ll get you back to my house and you can get something to eat and tell me what happened. If you’re ready. Besides, I have someone who is desperate to talk to you.”

***

Grant didn’t even let me get inside before he wrapped arms around me and squeezed. My brother didn’t do physical displays of emotion. I hugged him back, tears leaking from my eyes. Now they’d started, it was hard to get them to stop.

“Next time, I’m going with you and we’ll get somebody else to make a distraction.”

“I love you too, Grant.”

He pulled away and wiped at his eyes. I didn’t comment on the moisture there. Haven took the coat I shed, and I headed straight for the bathroom. As I washed my hands, he knocked on the door.

I called out for him to come in, while I unwrapped my makeshift bandages from my hands.

“What the hell happened? I was so worried about getting you out; I didn’t notice this,” Haven said. He took one hand, gently turning it over and examining it.

“I had a run in with an unfriendly mirror. It could have been much worse, believe me.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched. “I’ll get some antibiotic ointment and see if we have any gauze.”

He turned before I could protest. Now that the cuts had been washed, a few bled sluggishly, but I didn’t think they looked as bad. He came back with a partial roll of gauze, ointment, and a bag. He set it all on the counter next to me.

“Your brother brought over a bag of your stuff. I thought maybe you’d want a shower while I make some dinner.”

“You’re a mind reader,” I said, grabbing the bag.

One corner of his mouth twitched. “No, clairvoyant, remember?”

“Semantics.”

I shooed him out and shut the door. The bag was stuffed full of clothes, and I fished out a pair of pajama pants, an oversize T-shirt, and underthings. Grant had even packed my hairbrush and toothbrush.

I cranked the water as hot as I could stand it and shed my clothes. The water stung my hands, but I reveled in the knowledge I was alive and my mind still intact. Nightmares would plague me—they hovered in the recesses of my head. But I could wake from them, not be trapped in one endless cycle of fear. I’d be grateful for it. With time, they would fade.

I climbed out of the shower, dried off and dressed. My hair hung down my back in wet waves, but I didn’t feel like hunting for a hair tie I grabbed the gauze and ointment and headed for the living room.

Grant sat on the couch, his cell next to him and the remote in one hand. “Hey. Feel better?”

“You have no idea.” I sighed, the couch feeling like a cloud after my night of hard floors. “Could you help me with this?”

Grant frowned at the cuts, but nodded. “Do I even want to know?”

“Not right now. Maybe later, okay?”

He spread the cream over the cuts and nodded. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too.”

He carefully wrapped each of the cut fingers, then rolled up the rest of the gauze and sat back. “I called Cain while you were in the shower and let him know what was going on. He said they were still coming, and he would be sure they were all aware of the possible dangers.” He paused. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

I shrugged. “We have to do something, Grant. We can’t stay there as is, and we haven’t got anywhere else to go. Besides, we can’t leave Mom there.”

“I know. But it’s getting too intense, and I feel like this isn’t going to end well.”

I patted his hand, but I didn’t disagree. How could I? We all felt that way. Well, except for Laura and Bryan, but they were the exception, not the rule. My stomach let out a loud rumble, and Grant loosed a short bark of laughter.

“Sorry.” He smiled wide. “It would seem you’re hungry. I think Haven’s about got dinner ready. Shall we?”

I nodded, and we headed into the small kitchen. Pasta let off curls of steam in a colander next to the sink, while a pot of Swedish meatballs bubbled on the stove. Haven stuck spoons in each dish and then turned to face us.

“Dinner is served.” He motioned to the stack of bowls on the counter and moved out of the way.

I grabbed one and began serving myself. “Thanks. It smells great.” I filled my bowl and headed for the table. “Where’s your grandmother? Who wanted to see me?”

Haven and Grant exchanged a look I couldn’t read.

“Grandmother and Mom are both resting. I thought you’d want to eat before dealing with Mom.” Haven brought over his dinner and took the chair next to me.

“She’s been babbling hysterically about you since Haven brought her here.” Grant took the seat across from me and dug his fork in. “She wore herself out with it.”

I chewed, letting them do the talking.

Haven stared at his food. “Vale always helped her keep things sorted out, but he doesn’t seem to be around now.”

“He’s not.” I took a sip of the cup of water left on the table for me. “He helped me find her, but somehow in the process he had to trade his freedom in. The spirits in the house have him now.”

Memories of the voices made my stomach turn, but I pushed them aside and continued to shovel food into my mouth.

“What else did you find out in there?”

I swallowed. “A lot. Vale isn’t your father. He’s your great-great-grandfather. There’s a spirit we don’t know about behind a great many things, and there’s a fourth floor we have to find.”

Grant and Haven stared.

“Anything else?” Grant asked.

I shivered in spite of myself. “Let’s finish dinner, then we can talk.”

***

Haven’s grandmother blocked the hallway, arms crossed. “Haven Lucius Elliot, you are going to leave your poor mother alone. She’s been through enough, and I just got her calmed down.”

“It’s important, Grandmother.”

She shook her head. “It’s always important.” For a moment, she looked infinitely tired, as if this had been an argument she’d had many times with someone else.

Haven touched her arm. “Please.”

She stepped aside. “I can’t stop you, but I can tell you, if you damage her more, there’ll be the devil to pay.”

I sighed and stepped around Haven. “Mrs. Elliot, the devil’s already had his share. We’re trying to keep him from coming back for seconds.”

She blinked at me, then her lip curled and she stomped to her bedroom. The door slammed behind her, hard enough to make the pictures on the wall rattle. I looked back at Haven. “Sorry.”

He shrugged, then grabbed my hand and headed for his mother’s bedroom. He knocked on the door and waited until he heard her tell us to come in.

She sat in a wingchair next to the window, a book in her lap. She wasn’t reading. Her eyes were far away, staring out into a world I’d only gotten a glimpse of, and it had been more than enough. Tears made everything blurry.

“I’m sorry, Haven. I should have gotten there sooner.”

“You did what you could. I don’t think it’s because of the house.” His voice was soft. “At least, not all of it. She keeps calling for Vale and for you.”

“Me?”

He nudged me toward her, and I took a seat on the bed across from her. “Mrs. Elliot? Lenore?”

Her head turned, and her face lit with recognition. She reached out and grabbed my hands in hers. “You’re here and you’re safe!”

“Yes, I’m safe. Haven got me.”

“Haven’s such a good boy.”

I nodded. Her smile fell and her hands tightened until I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

“They know you now, inside and out. That was the plan. Test you. Torture you. Get inside your head without you suspecting. All your fears, they know. You can’t go back there.”

“I have to.”

She squeezed harder and tears burned the corners of my eyes. The cuts on my fingers would be bleeding again.

“No. If you go back, she’ll be there, waiting for you. She has Vale. She wants you. A way to squeeze through into the next world. Her own personal martyr.”

“Mrs. El—”

She leaned forward. “Think it through, girl. Think! Why are there no psychic ghosts? What can they do in death and life that a ghost would find useful?”

Her face, which had been so intense, suddenly went slack, and she fluttered her eyelids, looking down at the grip she had on my hands.

“I’m sorry. What were we talking about?” Moisture rose in her eyes. “I had something important to tell you, but I can’t remember it now. Did I tell you?”

I patted her limp hands. “You did. You told me everything you needed to. Why don’t you rest now?”

“I wasn’t always crazy, you know,” she whispered. Her tone and expression broke my heart. “Once, I was happy.”

“You’ll be happy again. You will.”

She smiled and patted my cheek. “Haven picked a good girl.” Her hands fell away and she turned her eyes to the window beside her. It seemed like a light had gone off again in her mind.

Haven leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We’ll check in on you later, Mom.”

She didn’t even move.

Chapter Thirty-One

Friday morning started better than I thought it might. After spending Thursday night telling Haven and Grant a low-key but truthful, account of my time locked in the house, I had been ready to collapse. Passing out because your body can’t handle any more ghostly energy is not the same as getting real rest.

Even that had been hard to come by, with nightmares waking me throughout the night. It got better once Haven stretched out next to me. I still woke, and a few times I found him searching through internet sites. After I told him about the uncanny resemblance to the photos and what I’d found, he was determined to get more information before we went in with the Spirit Searchers.

I stretched, my resolve easier to hold on to with the morning light filtering through the window. We’d had a brief argument about the wisdom of my returning to the house. I won, but for a moment I had been tempted by the idea of staying behind.

But only for a moment. The spirits and I had a score to settle.

I rummaged through the overnight bag and got dressed, brushed my teeth, and tried to make my hair look a little less like a rat’s nest.

As I finished braiding it, my cell phone buzzed on the night stand. Bryan’s name flashed across the screen.

Shoving it in my pocket, I headed out into the kitchen. Haven, cordless phone pressed to his ear, waved and pointed at the table, which held eggs, bacon, and toast. Grant was already digging in and grinned broadly.

“Great spread, huh?”

I nodded. “I would say so. Did Haven cook?”

Grant shook his head and leaned closer. “It’s weird. His grandma did. Came out, acted all sour and made lots of comments about our plans, but made breakfast, then took a tray to share with Haven’s mom.”

“Okay.”

My hip buzzed again and I slid the cell phone out with a groan.

“Who is it?” Grant asked.

“Bryan.”

“Oh”—Grant scooped another forkful of eggs up—“It’s probably because they’re already at the house. Haven’s talking to Cain right now.”

“What time is it?” I hadn’t been paying attention when I got ready. I opened the text messages, both of which were Bryan asking why I wasn’t home and when I’d get there. They came in at ten-thirty.

“Crap. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“You needed the sleep.” Grant swallowed, stared down at his food. “I heard you call out a few times last night. Doesn’t sound like it was restful.”

“It got better.” I crunched through a piece of bacon.

Haven sat down, punching the end button on the phone. “All right. As soon as we’re finished, we’ll head over. If you’re sure you’re ready, Claire.”

I finished my bacon and wiped my mouth. “The longer we wait, the worse it will be.”

Once the announcement was made, we ate quickly and then gathered shoes and coats. I put my cell in my pocket, though it would probably be useless once inside. We were headed out the front door when Haven’s grandmother called our names.

She came out on the porch, her arms pulling the green cardigan closer. “Listen, you guys—” She swallowed hard. Her eyes stayed glued to Haven’s face. “Your grandfather used to get this look on his face. Like he was out to conquer the world and save humanity, no matter the cost. The one you’ve all got on your faces. Haven, you and I haven’t always gotten along, and I know it’s my own fault. You’re so much like your grandfather, and I lost him to this stuff. Make sure you come back.”

Haven hopped back up the stairs and hugged her. “I love you too.” He looked stunned.

Her gaze switched to mine, and all traces of vulnerability were gone. “You’ll try, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Elliot. I don’t intend for any of us to die in there today.”

She shuddered. “Neither did poor Lenore.”

Without another word, she turned around and went back inside.

Haven came down the steps, looking shell shocked. “I think maybe she’s possessed.”

I hugged him. “She loves you.”

After a pause, he shrugged. He didn’t appear convinced. “Let’s go. I told Cain we’d be there by eleven-thirty.”

***

Three large black vans were parked outside the house, the backs thrown open, and black cases, rolls of orange extension cables, and packages of batteries were pulled out in specific stacks.

Cain stood behind one, talking to a short, round man with spiked hair. We approached, gravel crunching under our feet. They both faced us, and Cain smiled. “Great. It’s good to see everyone this morning.” He shook each of our hands. When he got to mine, he paused, covering it with his other one and squeezing. “Glad to hear you’re all right.”

I nodded.

“Haven, Claire, Grant, this is George Christoph, our tech guy. I’ve filled everyone in on the house and the occupants.”

We shook hands with the tech guy, and Grant jumped forward. “You need help with this?”

George laughed. “Dude, you’re offering to help? Can we sign you up permanently?”

Grant grinned. “I love gadgets. I’ll help if you let me play with some of this stuff.”

George clapped him on the shoulder. “Sure thing. Come with me.”

“Boys and toys,” I teased.

Grant’s smile faded. “Unless you need me.”

I waved him off. “Go on. Just make sure you stay with someone.”

George answered for him. “No way. All of us know the rules, and we know what’s happened so far. I won’t let him out of my sight.”

“Thanks.”

Cain led the way up the porch. “Bryan and Laura are doing interviews inside. Why don’t you two get it over with? Yours will be the longest, Claire.”

I nodded, and we went into the house. Haven’s hand at the small of my back helped me to keep steady when my stomach did flips. I took off my coat and hung it on the rack next to the door. The house was dim despite the lights being on and the blinds open. I took a deep breath and stepped farther inside. A breeze ruffled my hair, and I got the sense I was being laughed at.

We turned the corner into the living room and stopped.

From where Haven and I stood in the doorway, all I could see was the back of Mom’s head, her soft black hair piled in a severe knot on top of her head. The chair rocked slowly, back and forth, a slight creaking on every backward movement.

For one terrible, clear moment, I pictured myself picking up the heavy leaded glass lamp and bringing it down on her head. The vision was as clear as if I’d already done it.

My hands clenched around Haven’s fingers and bile burned the back of my throat. I shook my head, as if the movement would dislodge the images.

A low, throaty chuckle echoed around me and inside my head, the menace in surround sound. Mom stood, moved to face us, one hand wrapped around the locket at her throat.

“Such thoughts are not appropriate for a loving, sane daughter, my dear. Surely you are aware of this.”

“You are not my mother.”

“I look like your mother. Which is enough for the rest of the world. Besides, coming from you, they’ll think it’s another breakdown.” An ugly grimace passed over her face. “This world is all about appearances. Something can be rotten to the core, but you love it if the packaging is pretty enough.”

I hadn’t noticed her move closer, but suddenly she stood in front of me, one cold finger sliding beneath my chin and tilting my head to meet her gaze. “By then, you will be broken.”

The eyes were not the same anymore. I almost couldn’t remember what they were supposed to look like, and that frightened me even more.

“Stop it,” I growled. “You’ve done enough.”

The faint smile grew. “You are so strong. So much power. The others broke like twigs. You bend where they snap.” The touch left my face, and I choked back a response. She circled around me, her head moving, her body almost undulating like a snake. I tore my eyes away, focusing on the tips of my sneakers.

“You make me greedy. There is still the Halloween expedition to get through. Mustn’t mess those arrangements up.” She drew in a deep breath, licked her lips as though she smelled something delicious. “The taste is that much sweeter for the anticipation. I can wait. We have eternity.”

My heart thudded against my chest, and I shook with the instinct to turn and run. Instead, I held my ground. I would not give in so easily. We were going to finish this today, one way or another.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Laura saved everyone by coming in, a clipboard in hand. Her gaze flicked between us, and it was obvious there was a problem.

“Ah, I was going to take Mrs. Mallory, but if you’re ready Claire, we’d like to go ahead and get started on yours.”

Haven squeezed my hand. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

He was whispering. I didn’t bother. “You can’t stay here with her. You’re coming with me.” When Laura looked like she might protest, I added. “He can sit off camera and be quiet. But he isn’t staying here.”

“No one is supposed to be alone.” She reminded me.

“Mom can find her own buddy.”

“I’ll stay with her. Just take care of the video diary in the kitchen. You’ll find what you need in there. It’s all set up,” Laura sputtered behind me.

They had set up the interviewing in the kitchen, with the interviewees to sit at the table. A tall man with broad shoulders and wavy blonde hair fiddled with the video camera and tripod. I took a seat and he extended a hand, flashing pearly white teeth. Haven frowned at him from where he stood on the other side of the kitchen.

“Hi. You must be Claire.”

I shook the offered hand and sat back. “Yup.”

“I’m Gabriel D’Arcangelous.”

I couldn’t resist a snicker. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

“Sorry.”

Laura came back in, marking on the papers on the board. She handed it to me with a pen. “Sign the bottom. It’s a photo release form.”

I scribbled my name across the bottom and she snatched it back. “You’ll be relieved to know Bryan is sitting with your mother while I take care of this. He can’t stay, so you’ll just need to stay with Haven from now on.”

Not really, but I nodded anyway. She sniffed and took it back, stomping out of the room again.

Gabriel waited until she left, then flashed another white grin. “Okay, Claire. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll man the camera, and Haven can ask the questions. Don’t worry about hamming up for the camera. This is for record-keeping purposes.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

***

When I finished my interview, Gabriel was utterly silent for a long moment. Then he hit the button on the recorder and released a long breath. “That’s all for real? You didn’t make anything up? Embellish even a little bit?”

Irritation shot through me, but I tried to push it aside. If I were them, I’d think the same thing. I got up from the chair. “I don’t have to.”

He glanced at Haven. “And they said this was an easy weekend investigation?”

He spread his hands. “Their words, not ours.”

I shook Gabriel’s hand again, my eyes noting a small round signet ring on his pinky. I frowned, keeping hold of his hand a bit too long. A symbol was carved deep into the gold ring, a labyrinth pattern, like the one at Chartres, with a swooping pattern of loops and knots in the center. The longer I stared, the more detail seemed to appear.

“Um, Claire?”

“Sorry,” I said, releasing him. “Your ring…the symbol looked familiar.”

He laughed. “I get that a lot. It’s an old frat ring. You’ve seen the initials on a row house somewhere.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

I thought he was lying, but I didn’t have time to argue. It wasn’t related, as far as I could tell. Which meant it wasn’t important.

Haven and I switched places, and they did his interview, which was considerably shorter. Mom and Bryan came in as we finished. Bryan caught my arm as I walked past.

“Claire, we need to talk.”

Haven’s voice was little more than a snarl. “Don’t touch her.”

Bryan ignored him.

“You and I have nothing to say to each other.” I shook him off. “I’m still upset with you.”

“You don’t understand. I have to talk to you. There are reasons for what I did.”

Haven stepped between us. I noticed his hands were clenched and pressed against his thighs. “Reasons for beating her up? She’s still got bruises from you. Stay. Away.”

“I owe you nothing, Bryan. Right now, I need some air.” I gave him a curt nod before heading to sit on the front porch. Haven followed, and I could feel the anger radiating from him like heat waves.

“Chill out, Haven. We have to get through the rest of the night.”

He dropped down next to me, scooting over to let a tall, thin blonde walk past. She looked like a cover model rather than a ghost hunter.

“I know we don’t need to give the ghosts anything to work with, but I’d really like to finish what I started on the porch.”

I laid a hand on his arm. “Let it go. It isn’t worth it.”

Grant and George came by, heavy cases in hand. They were already setting up cameras and stringing cables and cords through the house. Cain started up the stairs and handed off the case he carried to the girl.

“That’s Julia. She’s newer than the others, but good.”

I nodded.

“Haven, could you go up to the third floor and help Deon get those doors propped open? Grant said he’d rather wait a while before heading up there.”

“Sure.” He gave Cain a hard look, but did what he asked.

“Okay, you got rid of him,” I said. “So what do you need?”

Cain sighed. “I want to make sure, without Haven hovering over you, you’re okay with this. He told me what you said about a fourth floor and you think it’s where the heart of all this is. But I feel like you left some things out.”

He was smarter than I gave him credit for. “I think Haven, Grant, and I should give the tour of the house. Mom can stay with Laura and you can give them some sort of task to get accomplished. We need to find the entrance to the fourth floor. It’s got to be attic space.”

“But what do you think is up there?”

“Maggie.”

I didn’t have to explain who Maggie was. Cain’s eyebrows rose. “I thought she was the victim.”

“She was. But somewhere along the way, she also became the cause of this. I don’t know the details. I just know there’s a picture of her with her brother, the one that looks like Bryan, outside this house, and they both look miserable. I think he found out she was pregnant and planned on shutting her up here until the baby was born.”

Cain nodded, but it was an inward movement, as though he processed everything in his head and agreed. “I can see it. She has the baby, they take it, and she wants revenge. But where does the madness come into play? The other ghosts in such gruesome states?”

“I’m not sure about the others. I think Horace was into strange things. As for her…There’s a letter that mentions something about visions and not letting other people make her think she’s something she isn’t. It’s from Vale. I wonder if she was more dangerous than anyone knows.” I looked up at him. “Is there a record of her ever getting out?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been going through the records in the back office since we got here. We found the admission and release log, but there’s no mention of her release. Haven says his grandmother has an article claiming she disappeared.”

“She did. Into the house. She went mad, trapped in the fourth floor by Horace Gunderson. Whether the brother had anything to do with it or not, I don’t know. But she got her revenge by trapping them all here with her in death, as she couldn’t in life. Now Horace serves her whims.”

“What does she want?”

I drew a deep breath. “Me, I think. Because I’m psychic, but I don’t really understand it.”

“Make very sure you stay with Haven or me tonight. I trust the others, but I would feel better if you stayed close to one of us. Grant will be fine with George. Don’t do anything that’s going to add you to the ghosts.”

Sitting up straight, I gave a mock salute. “Aye, aye, mon capitane.”

“I mean it. It’s only, what, two o’clock on Halloween?” I nodded, and Cain’s gaze traveled over the lines of the house. “Even I sense the weird atmosphere in there. It gets thicker as the day goes on. It’s like…”

“Wading through whispers no one can hear,” I said. “Pregnant silence. Standing in the middle of a crowded room and you’ve done something stupid?”

He nodded.

“Welcome to my life.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Everything was set, the interviews were finished, and Gabriel stood in the living room, pulling supplies from his bag. A couple pieces of chalk, holy water, more sage, and a tiny, well beaten book which looked like it had seen better days.

“That’s all you need?” Haven eyed the handful of stuff and shook his head. “I’m not feeling comforted.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I swear, this will be more than enough. No one gets through my circles.”

“You better hope not. ’Cause everyone’s here to get rid of and record the ghosts, not become one.”

Bryan frowned at him. “There’s no room to be doubtful.”

“I don’t doubt you are going to do this and do a good job. I just think this house has way more going on than we’re used to. If you are both certain it will work, I’ll believe you.”

When Gabriel lifted an eyebrow, George grinned. “Honest.”

“Why don’t you all go outside and wait for us to finish this?” Gabriel asked, but it wasn’t actually much of a question. One by one, we filed outside. Mom was last, only coming when Cain followed behind her, making a point of waiting for her to leave.

Outside, the wind had picked up, and dark clouds roiled overhead. I stepped closer to Haven, my eyes glued to the house. He slid an arm around my waist.

“Seriously? This is a horror movie setup.”

George overheard my comment. Chuckling, he leaned against the side of his van. “Freaky, right? I give you and your brother huge points for style.”

“Oh, gee, thanks,” Grant said, rolling his eyes. “My life is now complete.”

Gabriel and Bryan took longer than I thought they would. I expected them to pop out the front door and wave us all inside in just a few moments. Instead, several minutes later, we were still standing there, making no pretense of small talk.

“What is taking so long?” Julia muttered.

Mom laughed, a deep-throated chuckle. “What’s wrong? Does the wait make you rethink your choices?”

Deon, a towering black man with cropped hair and a ready smile, stepped closer to his friend, frowning at Mom. She should have been frightened. With his physique and the way he stared down at her, I would have. Mom didn’t seem to notice.

“No,” Julia replied. “I still think we’re exactly where we need to be.”

Mom kept her eyes on the other woman, a strange smile fixed to her face. Finally, when we were all beginning to worry, she looked away. “Yes. Just where you should be.”

I shivered again. This wasn’t Mom speaking, and we all knew it, though Laura and Bryan might not want to admit it.

Cain stepped forward, but before he could ask anything, Bryan appeared on the porch. He looked pale, but himself. “Come on guys. Before the rain starts.”

Inside, Gabriel sat on the couch, the battered book in his hands and a fine sheen of sweat on his face. George immediately set to work checking to make sure all the video connections were ready to go.

“Are you all right?” I asked Gabriel.

He smiled. “I’m fine. It was just a little more intense than I thought. Not a problem though. Anyone in this room should be safe.”

Yet his eyes flicked to Mom, doubt glittering in their depths. I shook my head. “Don’t worry about that,” I told him when he looked back at me. “We both know shielding a room won’t help her.”

“Hopefully we’ll finish this tonight and it won’t be a problem anymore.”

I nodded.

A sudden roar made everyone jump. Haven crossed to the window and pulled aside the curtain. Rain fell in waves across the driveway as lightning flashed in the distance.

“Looks like we were just in time.”

Cain checked his watch, then pulled his cell from his pocket. “We’ve got about two hours before we need to start anything serious. For now, let’s order some dinner and make sure we’ve got all the equipment and everything in order.”

Grant perked. “What’re we ordering?”

Bryan rolled his eyes as he passed by me, and I took a seat on the couch next to Haven and Gabriel, wiping my palms on my thighs. My entire body tingled with awareness of the house and what was in it. Mom sat in a rocking chair in the corner, silent, watching all of us with a slight grin. Like she knew something we didn’t.

She probably did, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, even if she offered.

Cain dialed the number while Laura asked for orders by show of hands. After we’d ordered enough pizza and soda to feed a small army, he hung up, handed Grant a couple of twenties, and told him to watch out for the delivery guy.

Beside me, Haven slid his hand around mine and leaned close. “Just breathe.”

“Can everyone tell when I’m upset?” I asked.

“Only me.” He smiled. “And I promise not to tell on you.”

“I’m worried about the tour. Hell, about all of this. Did I make a huge mistake?”

Gabriel leaned forward. “Forgive me, but you did the right thing. Don’t think for a moment you shouldn’t have brought us in. You need help, and we can give it.”

Haven struggled to hide his irritation with Gabriel. “He’s right. Things are far too dangerous for you or even the two of us to try and fix things. They know what they’re doing, and they are aware of what could happen. You aren’t responsible for everything.”

I nodded. While my head said they were right, my gut still churned with worry.

Laura strode from where she’d stood next to George, her clipboard still clutched in one hand. “Can you come take a look at this camera?”

“Sure.” I followed her to the table, where George was muttering at the computer screen and punching keys with sharp, hard strokes.

Laura pointed to the huge flat screen display, broken into eight sections. One, in the bottom corner, was dark and hazy. “We put this in the library room, looking from the back toward the door. I think it’s near a window. Would there be a curtain there that could be in front of the lens?”

George sighed and stood. “This is silly. I’ll just go check. It’s got to be a curtain or something.”

I put a hand on his shoulder. Licking my lips, I shook my head. “There aren’t any curtains up there yet. Just a blind you pull down. Mom was in the process of making some, but she hasn’t finished yet.” We all stared at the screen for a moment. “Can you make it bigger?”

George nodded, punching a few buttons. The screen was filled with the image, which now showed the vague outline of a face in the midst of the darkness. As we watched, the features grew more distinct, the eyes darker, and the mouth opened unnaturally wide and lunged at the camera. The image shook, then brightened.

George uttered a soft oath.

Cain came up behind us. “What’s going on?”

I cut my eyes at Laura, whose face was white as a sheet, but her eyes sparkled with excitement. She grabbed at Cain’s arm, hugging him. “It was the most amazing manifestation! A filmy mist we saw for nearly five minutes. When we zoomed in, thinking it was a curtain, it had features and then rushed the camera. Amazing stuff. George, were you recording?”

Cain caught my eye and I shrugged, heading back to my seat. Haven lifted a brow, and I gave him a quick explanation.

“If you want to see it, I think Laura is making George show Cain the recording.”

Haven shook his head. “No thanks. I think we’ll see enough this evening all by ourselves.”

Cain seemed more troubled than excited by the video, though I know he was pleased at the footage they’d caught. Still, he took the time to go over the buddy system again, and hand out digital camcorders, digital voice recorders, cameras, and more extra batteries than I’d ever seen in one place in my life.

A few minutes after he finished, Grant’s whole body stiffened and he took off toward the front door. Two seconds later, we heard the doorbell. Julia and Deon followed to help grab all the food. I paced the room, anxious to get started. The longer we waited, the more likely something would go wrong. Food was the last thing on my mind.

Grant returned, followed by Deon, who carried three pizza boxes in each hand and a wide grin as he kept them from my brother’s greedy hands. His deep voice flowed into the room like warm chocolate. “Dinner is served.”

Paper plates were stacked on the coffee table with plastic utensils and napkins. I went into the kitchen and brought back a bunch of cups and the soda we’d put in the fridge earlier. The eleven of us dug in, including Mom, who ate her pizza with gusto. It seemed almost like a dying man eating his last meal.

She caught my eye and winked.

The mouthful of food I chewed didn’t seem to have as much flavor now. I swallowed and sipped at the soda in my cup until I had myself under control again. Worry and anticipation made a hard knot in my stomach.

“You better eat now.” Haven pushed the plate I put aside toward me. “We’ll just be snacking the rest of the night.”

Because he monitored me so close, I forced myself to finish the piece, waving off an offer of seconds. I just wanted to get this show on the road.

***

Once everyone had all their equipment and batteries and Cain assigned the buddies, we gathered in the foyer for a tour of the house. While Cain was talking to George and helping to set up the recording of the camera, I nudged Grant.

“You want to give the tour of the first floor and basement?”

He blinked. “Well, okay. You sure?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure. You got this.”

He nodded.

Once Cain and George had joined us, we led them through the hall, pointing out the kitchen and living room, the bathroom, and then we got to end of the hallway. Grant opened the door to the back office.

“This is where we first noticed things going wrong.” He glanced back at Mom and then away. “Claire had the door open on her the first couple days we moved in. Before we even had a key to unlock them. Then we both felt a presence with Mom.”

He continued, narrating the experiences we’d had in the different rooms, including my little encounter in the basement. He motioned for me to take over and I described what I saw and felt. Mid-sentence, the air temperature dropped and Deon jerked.

“Are you all right?” Julia asked.

He rubbed his neck. “I swear someone coughed right next to me.”

Biting cold slithered in the air around us and I motioned to the stairs. “Let’s get upstairs again.” Beside me, Haven stepped a little closer.

Bryan was the only one who paused. “But if there’s something here…”

“You have no equipment.” Cain pinned him with a glare that brooked no argument. “Use your head.”

Bryan’s expression darkened, but he didn’t argue.

We headed upstairs, pausing briefly in the kitchen and asking for questions. No one said anything, so we proceeded to the second floor. I licked my lips, feeling the approaching darkness of Halloween as a surge of constant static over my skin. It was like walking through a thundercloud and waiting for lightning to strike.

They followed me to the tower room. I tried to calm myself when I noticed the shadow hovering in the back corner near George’s camera. Based on the way their eyes skipped over that section of the room, I didn’t think anyone else saw anything.

Haven’s face seemed strained, pulled into a frown, but he didn’t say anything. All the same, something was enjoying our little tour.

“What was this room? I didn’t see this one before,” Bryan walked ahead of me, watching the EMF detector in his hand intently as he entered. “The readings in here are fluctuating all over the place.”

Cain moved, putting a hand on his shoulder, his eyes on the back of the room. “Hold your horses, Bryan. We’re not formally investigating right now. Pay attention to what you’re doing.”

Bryan’s face turned red, but he didn’t say anything as he followed Cain’s gaze to the back of the room. Deon moved up, pulling a small digital camera from his pocket and snapping a few pictures.

“This is what Mom plans on making into a library.” I kept an eye on the mass, which disappeared from view, but didn’t leave. I could feel it hovering in the background, watching us. “We aren’t sure what it was before, but there was an antique wheelchair in here which moved on its own.”

Footsteps creaked across the floor behind our group and Julia let out a small squeak. A high pitched giggle followed, echoing in the huge room. Julia’s eyes were huge.

“Holy hell,” she whispered. She took a step closer to Deon. “That’s a first.”

He nodded, then looked at me. “You weren’t kidding when you said this was an active place.”

I gave him a grim smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet. They’re just getting warmed up.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Julia shivered. “The investigator in me is cheering. The rest of me is scared shitless.”

Haven jumped a little beside me, blinking steadily. I couldn’t see anything in the direction he looked. Just a blank wall.

“Just keep a handle on your fear, and you’ll be fine.” Bryan’s words were curt, and I wondered if he knew just how much it showed his own fear.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about this room?” Laura scribbled something on her clipboard.

“It has a constant presence. What that is, I can’t say.”

Grant shook his head as well.

“What about you, Haven? You’re supposed to be psychic too,” Bryan challenged.

Haven glared, then closed his eyes. “I don’t sense things like Claire. I only see what they want me to. Or catch glimpses of the past and future.”

“But do you see anything?” Deon wasn’t pushing, but seemed genuinely curious.

Haven’s fingers released mine, and he closed his eyes after sucking in a huge lungful of air. His shoulders jerked a little. Silence pressed down on us like a weighted vest.

“The home wasn’t a happy place.” His voice seemed distant, strained. “Most of the people here came in because they were unwanted. Only a few left. After a while, most of them didn’t really know what was real and what wasn’t. They stay now because they want revenge for what was done to them. They need us. If not to leave, then to appease their appetite for that.”

“What about the future?” Julia whispered.

Haven’t brow furrowed. “It’s dark. It tastes like despair and feels like winter.” Releasing a long breath, his eyes snapped open. “That’s it.”

“‘Tastes like despair?’” Bryan snorted. “What a load of crap.”

Haven shrugged. “I can’t always control the way the future comes out. Most of the time, it’s riddles. Like someone puts the words in my mouth.”

“Let’s keep going,” Grant said, breaking the silence. “We need to get this show moving a little faster if we’re going to get anything done before midnight.”

He led the way to his room, mine, Mom’s, and the others. I expected Mom to protest when I pushed open her door, but she said nothing, just shot me an infuriating smile and moved aside so George could get a better look.

Haven leaned over as Grant said something about things he’d heard at night. “This place is getting stronger, isn’t it?”

“What makes you say that?”

He hesitated, and my heart rate sped up.

“I’m having some trouble, Claire. The house is full of visions of the past and future. I’m having some trouble sorting them out. They’re coming whether I want them or not. Its…disconcerting.”

The thought sent chills down my spine, but it explained his behavior. I took his hand again and squeezed. “Keep close then. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”

He pecked my cheek. “Thanks. Back at you.”

Grant looked at me, brows raised, and I pointed to the stairs. “Why don’t we head up to the third floor?”

No one argued, so I led the way upstairs. I did my best to ignore the way my stomach dropped and the sweat dampened my palms. The last place I wanted to be was there again, but I had to do this. If I couldn’t get past it, I’d never be able to finish this. Still, it had seemed easier downstairs than it was up here. As we walked down the hall Haven stayed near me, his hand in mine.

“You notice anything strange about this part of the house?” I asked them.

They all looked around, and I thought at first no one would answer. Finally, Cain rattled a nearby door handle. “They all lock from the outside.”

I nodded.

Deon muttered a curse.

With a deep breath, I walked a little farther down, to one on the right side of the hall where the door was open. “This is where they kept me.”

Everything inside looked much the same as everyone crowded in. Haven, Deon, and I stayed in the doorway. I didn’t want to be caught inside again, and Haven’s unfocused stare and heavy breathing were not encouraging.

Shaking it off, I described what happened, leaving out the part where Melanie let me in. I had yet to mention her by name. For some reason, I was reluctant to admit she was the one who had aided me. As I spoke about the mirror breaking, I could see Laura and Bryan seemed unconvinced.

Cain pointed. “Claire, look.”

I turned. The mirror, which had been broken before was now whole, back in the frame. I stepped inside, followed closely by Haven. Cain moved in to examine the mirror, while Laura scribbled furiously on a pad of paper.

I moved to the mattress, still resting against the back wall. Glittering in the fabric, taunting me, was a sliver of mirror. I pulled it out and turned around. “Someone didn’t do a good job of cleaning up after themselves.”

The piece flew from my fingers, slicing through the edge of Cain’s cheek as it fitted itself to a tiny crack in the mirror surface.

“Shit.” Cain scrubbed at the thin line of blood on his cheek. Laura swept in, pulling a tissue from her pocket and dabbing at it.

“He’ll live. The cut’s already closing.” A note of worry crept into her voice. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“You said a spirit kept you company and helped you out.” Bryan’s face was white as a sheet. “Do you know who it was?”

I met his eye.

I didn’t have to answer. Haven’s voice was hoarse. “Melanie. She helped you.”

“Yes.”

Bryan froze in place, and I took a step closer to him.

“You already knew, didn’t you?”

His face crumpled and he fell to his knees. “I didn’t want to believe I’d gotten her stuck here. It was an accident. She was so cool, and I wanted to impress her. Especially since I thought she had the hots for Haven. She kept talking about being psychic and the paranormal. I challenged her on Halloween. Said we should try the Ouija at her house. I never thought it was going to end up like it did.”

He spoke as if the words couldn’t be contained anymore. Sobs racked his body. “I didn’t know what the spirits were like. I figured we’d call one up, talk to it, and she’d be so into me.”

Cain looked like a heavy breath would knock him off his feet. “What did you do?”

Bryan rocked back and forth, his arms wrapped around his body. “She had this board. We used it. Opened it to anyone who wanted to speak. Except that’s not all they wanted. They wanted our souls. I thought we’d contacted the Devil himself.”

“Close enough,” I muttered under my breath.

“They crawled around inside my head. It got crowded. Sometimes they still grope around in my mind.” His words were shaky, and his eyes wild. “They changed me. At night, sometimes they still talk to me.”

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Melanie shimmering into view, watching Bryan with an expression I couldn’t pinpoint. Haven put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. His eyes kept straying to the side, and he squinted.

“Is that who I think?” he whispered. “You can see her too, right? She’s in the present?”

I nodded.

Bryan continued. I don’t think we could have stopped him even if we’d wanted to. It was like a wound being opened, and he bled with words. “Whatever it was said some other things. About revenge and dying and payment. I was so freaking scared I don’t even remember what really. She freaked too, and we knocked the board over, tried to run. I got out and the door slammed shut. I heard her screaming, and then it was like someone just cut her off. I ran until I was back to the party. I drank, tried to drown the voices. I almost succeeded. And when the cops came I pointed them to Haven.”

Bryan looked up at his cousin, his expression torn between rage and a sadness and guilt which made my stomach twist. “I was so angry with you. You knew what would happen, but you didn’t tell me anything. You tried to tell her, and it didn’t help. I hate you for that.”

Haven shook his head, his voice soft. “I only knew something bad would happen. Not what or with who.”

“I came back later, when I realized how cowardly I’d been.” He swallowed, his body shuddering. He stared at the floor, his mind seeing something it had tried hard to forget. “By then it was too late. She was lying on the floor, dead. The memory still gives me nightmares. She was beautiful and terrifying. I thought she was asleep at first. Then I pulled the hair away from her face, and her eyes were too wide, her mouth open in a scream. I think I hear her scream sometimes, even though it isn’t possible. I panicked. Then things get fuzzy. I think I even tried to resuscitate her.”

“Bryan,” I asked softly. “They found her body outside. How did she get there?”

There was silence, just his panting sobs for a moment. He didn’t look up at me. “I moved her, I think. At first, I thought I could take her to the hospital. Then I knew if I did, they’d accuse me of doing it. So I took her out and left her where they’d find her. But the memories are hard…I’m not sure if they’re mine or someone else’s. It’s like walking in fog to remember them.”

Laura took a step back, sympathy and disgust warring on her face. There was no sense of vindication for me. No triumph in bringing Bryan to his knees, sobbing like a baby. There was only a hollow ache in my chest for him. No wonder the house loved him—they’d been torturing him for years. Feeding on him, enjoying his madness and pain, having created it in the first place.

Melanie, on the other hand, felt differently. Her form focused, and I heard a gasp as she allowed herself to be fully visible. She walked forward, part of her arm passing through Haven, who jumped like he’d been scorched.

“I told you I’d bring you to your knees.”

Bryan glanced up, and stark terror turned to relief. It was the strangest look I’d ever seen. I could almost see the fissures in his mind deepen. The spirits hovered, just outside of us, watching him. They’d been waiting for this a long time.

“I’m so sorry, Melanie. So sorry.”

He reached out a hand, but it went through her leg.

“You know, I wanted to whine and groan and make you feel miserable.” She crouched in front of him, nose to nose. “But I’ve discovered it won’t help me. So I forgive you. We were both stupid, but it was honest stupidity. Just be sure you help make all this right, and we’ll call it even. Oh, and get some help, Bryan. You’re going to need it.”

He nodded, his tears receding. “I will, I swear it on my life.”

She got up. I could feel a thin thread connecting them begin to fray, then snap apart. “You don’t need to be dramatic. If you fail, you’ll all be dead anyway.”

She started to fade and turned away from him to wink at me. “No pressure.”

Haven stood next to me, his eyes riveted on her. So were everyone else’s. “By the way, Haven?”

He nodded.

Melanie looked at the floor, then back. “Thanks for trying. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. Watch out for this one. She’s not half bad.”

He swallowed hard, his arm around me tightening. “I know.”

“And you”—she tilted her head and grinned—“You take a while to get around to things, but thanks. I think I can go now.” With a mock salute to me, she then turned and gave the rest a dramatic bow before dissolving into nothing.

“Is she gone?” Deon asked.

I paused, reaching out to see her. There was a blazing path of light where she had been, and a feeling of peace. “She’s moved on. She wasn’t tied like the others.”

Julia cut through the silence. “And none of us had a camera.”

“That’s the least of our worries right now,” I said.

“Why? Why could she move on when the others can’t?”

“She was a mistake,” I said. “The house didn’t want her. It was after him. After someone they thought had powers. Melanie wasn’t enough energy for the spirits to keep. They’ve been feeding on Bryan instead.”

Mom laughed. Her voice sounded strange. Deeper, and less like herself than ever before. “You think you have it all figured out.” She circled behind me, while everyone else froze. “But you don’t know even half of it. Matter of fact, this could all be seen as your fault.”

“Bullshit. You possess anyone who lives here, drive them to unspeakable things.”

“Not everyone.” Her lips curled, and her eyes darkened. “We couldn’t possess the last occupants. Melanie’s parents didn’t believe, and she only believed out of spite. And that is what we worked with.”

Her foreign gaze turned to Bryan, who whimpered like a whipped dog. “It took Bryan to accomplish the deed.”

I wondered at the admiration in her gaze.

“No!” Bryan shook his head. “I left. I didn’t kill Melanie.”

“Why did you drag her outside? Explain it again. In detail.”

His eyes were round with panic and fear. The peace Melanie had given him was broken. “I don’t know. I just remember leaving and coming back. Then I was at the edge of the woods. I-I did it because someone would think I killed her. I can’t remember more!”

Mom wagged a finger. “You don’t remember the details, because you were with us, then. You are one of us, in the flesh.”

“I did kill her?” Bryan moaned, buried his face in his hands. He rocked, shaking his head, mumbling over and over, “It’s not true. I would know. I didn’t. I didn’t.”

Mom turned back to me, and I crossed my arms. “Why should we believe you?”

Her features seemed to twist and stretch as I stared, and I struggled to swallow past the bile that burned my throat. This was not my mother. This was something else. Something dark.

“You blame me for this? Oh no.” Her laugh was deep and mocking. “Why do you think I so easily possessed your mother? Belief is everything. Without you and your freakish little psychic break last year, she wouldn’t believe. Without you, she’d be safe.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Haven squeezed my shoulders. “Don’t listen to it, Claire. They want in your head.”

Cain nodded. “He’s right. I think it’s time we moved on.”

But the words couldn’t be unsaid, and they bounced around in my skull like angry bees, loud and accusing.

My fault.

Your fault.

She’d be fine if not for you.

You did this. You and your problems.

Your fault.

The words grew louder, and I couldn’t seem to get back my focus. Somewhere, inside, I knew they were putting the words there. The accusations cut like knives into my heart, and tears wet my cheeks. Haven’s hands took mine, his warmth more like a flame now.

“Claire!” Haven’s voice seemed to come from a long way off, nearly drowned out in the echoes plaguing me. “Push them out. You’ve done it before.”

I whimpered. He was right. I could see them, pushing at me from all sides. They were strong, so strong. This was their night and they had the home-field advantage. Gathering myself, I pushed at them, forcing the dark, violet light of the spirits away from me, severing the ties they had sunk into my mind.

Finally the words left, and I was alone in my own head. I blinked, aware of Haven’s hands gripping mine. Grant stood next to me, worry on his features. Mom watched, her lips in a frustrated pout as I stood. My knees throbbed. I hadn’t been aware of falling.

“Are you all right?” Laura asked.

“I think so. It was a weak moment.” I looked at Mom and caught her gaze. “It won’t happen again.”

She sneered.

“We’ve got to get him downstairs before we do anything else,” George said, nodding toward Bryan, who still sat on the floor, sniffling. Julia crouched next to him, talking softly.

Cain ran a hand over his hair. “All right. Deon, George, you two help Julia get him downstairs. Grant, you are in charge of your mother…or whoever is in there with her. Don’t let her out of your sight, and don’t listen to what she says. We all need to go down and regroup a little before we start out again.”

Gabriel and Grant took either of Mom’s arms and led her from the room. I watched with a frown. I didn’t remember Gabriel being there through part of the tour. But then, I was being pulled in so many directions, I couldn’t be certain.

George and Deon had to lift Bryan from the floor and were practically carrying him downstairs. The rest of us followed. I was concerned for his mind, but I figured Cain could make the ultimate decision. Melanie and Bryan had both gotten what they wanted—forgiveness. Where Bryan went from here was his choice. Assuming we got out alive.

“Wait,” Cain said, pausing at the top of the stairs. He waved George and Deon on, then looked at us. “We need to find this fourth floor, don’t we?”

“It would be best to know where to go when the time is right.” Laura couldn’t quite meet my gaze. “We don’t want to waste time later looking for it. I don’t think it would go well.”

“All right then.” I glanced at Haven. “Are you wanting to stay for this?”

He nodded. “I think I know where to look. I keep seeing flashes of things. If there’s a doorway, it’s in one of the alcoves. I can’t be sure which. The scenes are moving too fast.”

We broke apart and took opposite ends of the hall. As the others moved away, I tugged on Haven’s hand.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

He squeezed my hands in his. “I’m okay. Honest.”

I gave him a once over, and he smiled. “If I feel like I need help, I promise I’ll ask.”

“Make sure you do.” I gave him a quick kiss and then pushed him toward the nearest alcove.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Laura ran her hand along the wall of one recess.

“A door that would lead to an attic or fourth floor,” I said.

Cain moved the boxes out of the other alcove, then stepped inside. I studied the corners and the floor to see if it looked like there was unusual wear and tear at the end of the hall where there was a blank wall.

“Guys!” Cain’s deep voice rang out. “I think I found it.”

We rushed over, and he ran a small penlight around the wall. The glow revealed a strange, door-shaped bump in the wall.

“It’s been wallpapered over, but that’s got to be it,” I said.

Cain reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. I put a hand on his arm. “Not yet. Once we open it, all hell breaks loose. We’ll have to work our way up.”

“Good point.”

Laura cut her eyes at me. “What difference does it make?”

Haven answered. “It’s where all the power in the house comes from. We have to investigate and cleanse from the basement up. If we open this now, we’re finished. Somehow, there’s something about the seal on the door. Claire?”

“It’s holding her in,” I said. I flexed my mind against the doorway. It did not yield, and while I couldn’t sense anything concrete, there was still a shadow of something. “Once we open it, we release her completely.”

Cain checked his watch and folded the blade back into the body of the knife. “Then we had best get started. It’s almost eight now.”

When we went downstairs, George and Deon were in deep discussion to the side of the room. Julia sat in a chair on the other side of the room.

“Where did Bryan go?” I asked, panic fluttering in my gut. The last thing we needed was for him to do anything to himself.

She must have caught onto my fear. “Don’t worry. Grant went with him. He’s waiting while Bryan washes his face and gets himself calmed down a little.”

I wasn’t too worried, as Gabriel had included the bathroom in the warding earlier. Still, having anyone out of sight made me uneasy.

“What did we decide?” George took a seat behind the long plastic table holding the monitors and computers with all the equipment.

Cain and Laura glared at each other, but drew closer. “We’ve left it up to Bryan to decide whether he wants to talk to the police about all this.”

Julia cleared her throat. “I don’t want to sound like I’m the bad guy, but are you sure?”

Cain sighed. “Technically, he didn’t kill her, and we can’t prove he did. There’s no way a cop is going to believe the ghost did it. I don’t like it, but we all know if he goes to the police they’ll put him in a psych ward. Or worse.”

“True. It’s just disturbing it could get to anyone like that.” Julia hugged herself. “This place is far more intense than I planned.”

Laura flicked a glance at me. “What do you think, Claire?”

I held up my hands. “Whatever you decide, I’ll go with. Right now, he’s the least of my worries.”

“All right then. Someone will have to stay with him. We can’t take him with us. I want him watched until we can get out of here.” Cain’s words were hard. No one argued with him.

With a curt nod, he nodded to George. “I take it we’re ready?”

George pressed a few buttons. “As we’re going to be.”

Haven picked up a digital camera and a voice recorder from the pile on the table. “Everything has multiple batteries, right?”

George shot him a forced smile. Beneath his tan, he was pale. “Definitely. You sure this is how you want to start?”

I took an extra flashlight and set of batteries. “We’ll start it, and then we’ll finish it. You guys have to be the middle.”

“All right.” Cain said.

Gabriel pulled the bag strap over his head, the zippered pocket already open and a flashlight in hand.

I frowned.

Haven spoke up before I could. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”

“I’m an ordained priest,” Gabriel said, crossing his arms. “If you’re going to bless something to drive out spirits, I’m as good as you’re going to get. I’ve already said I’ll go do it with each team in each room.”

Neither of us said anything else.

Gabriel shoved a finger into Haven’s shoulder. “You need an extra person, and you know it. You’re not always in the present.”

Haven’s face flushed. “What—”

“I overheard her ask if you were all right. With the way you’ve been zoning in and out, I figured it out.” Gabriel shoved an extra set of batteries in his bag. “Come on, Haven. Swallow your pride. What happens if you aren’t sure what’s going on and she needs help?”

Haven’s eyes cut to me and then away. “Fine.”

“All right then.” Gabriel held out one arm, indicating the doorway. “After you.”

Cain held out a palm sized walkie-talkie. “If you need us, use this.” I took it from his hand and clipped it to my waistband. “Otherwise, we’ll wait for your return before sending out the next team.”

“Give us about five minutes, and then we’ll cut the power at the main breaker.” I rubbed my hands over my face, sucking in a few gulps of air. Every nerve in my body was on high alert. I bounced on my toes, the energy in the house moving through me now, whether I liked it or not. I couldn’t block it all out. It pulsed around us, a living thing, and I had to resist the urge to scratch at my own skin. It was like it was stuck to me, and all I needed to do was get a grip and peel it away.

“Are you sure we have to go dark?” I asked again.

Cain paused, his eyes roving over the equipment. “For once, I wish I could say we didn’t. But the equipment won’t work as well—it’s all geared for complete darkness, and we are investigators.”

“Okay. We’re off then.”

Cain gave me a thumbs up and a smile, but his grin was forced. Grant and Bryan came back in. Bryan, did not turn his red-rimmed eyes from his toes. Grant took a seat next to George. Worry cut a line between his eyebrows.

“Be careful, Sis. Don’t be stupid.”

I gave him a mock salute, and a smile with more warmth than I actually felt. He saw right through it, but didn’t call me on it. Without any more delay, I led Gabriel and Haven downstairs. It would be different to be in the house with absolutely no light. Even when it was dark normally, there were little things. Clock lights in the kitchen, the porch light outside.

When I opened the door to the basement, a blast of icy air rushed out. I stepped inside anyway, flicking the button on my flashlight. “Ready or not,” I whispered. “Here we come.”

Gabriel cursed as we started down the stairs.

Teeth chattering, I glanced over my shoulder, “I thought you were a priest. Are you supposed to know those words?”

“Different kind of priest.” It sounded like he was gargling marbles.

I could understand why. The air was thick, almost like breathing soup. I made my way over to the breaker box, leaving Haven and Gabriel to start the cleansing. Haven lit a stick of sage, wafting the smoke around the room. Gabriel started a prayer, and I shone my flashlight on the box, finding the main switch.

“Are we ready?”

When there was no answer, I turned. Haven nodded behind me, his lips moving in some sort of prayer, though his words were inaudible.

I pushed the switch, and the house plunged into total darkness, except for the ring of our flashlights. They moved through the room, Gabriel’s voice calling out in Latin, firm in the darkness.

Wind, thick with the smell of decay, blew through, the icy tendrils biting into exposed flesh. I gagged, and heard Gabriel’s chant falter a moment as he did the same. It didn’t take much to sense the spirit around us, snarling in the dark. Gabriel’s light on the other side of the room went out, and I heard him stumble in the dark. His litany didn’t relent.

Haven moved into the last and farthest corner with the sage. The smoke moved through the beam of his light like ribbons. He stumbled and swore. I saw the flare of the smoldering end of the sage bundle and started toward it. His flashlight rolled a few feet away from him, and in the beam two bluish and rotting feet came into view.

“Holy crap,” Haven whispered I scooped up the bundle, then found Haven and helped him to his feet. He pulled the sage from me.

Gabriel finished the last line of prayer and padded closer. I flipped up the flashlight in time to see him fling holy water in the direction of the feet, shouting a few Latin words.

A growl reverberated around us.

“I don’t think that helped much,” I said, backing toward the stairs and catching Haven’s hand with mine. “What else do you have in your bag of tricks?”

I heard Gabriel hiss in the darkness and then his light flickered back to life. He tossed holy water out again with another shouted command. This time it seemed to work. The growl escalated to a roar.

I ducked, and the ghost sped past us, fleeing. Anger and stench followed the wind it created, riffling our hair. The ghost had left and retreated upstairs to dwell in another dark place for a time.

“Not as easy as I hoped,” Gabriel said. “Are you two all right?”

Haven’s voice was breathy. “Yeah. And to think, that was only the beginning.”

I grimaced, though neither could see me in the dark. “Let’s not think about it. The others will be thrilled, though. I think we got all of it on camera. Including the creepy feet.”

“Screw the camera.” Gabriel led the way back to the stairs. “Let’s just make sure we all get out of here in one piece.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Haven and I stayed in the living room with George while Cain, Laura, and Gabriel went through the back rooms. Sitting in the dark, with a few camp lanterns for light wasn’t easy, even though the warding on the room provided some relief. Mom sat in the rocking chair in a dark corner, moving back and forth.

Somehow, though I couldn’t see her face, I could feel her smiling at our discomfort.

“Breathe.” Haven leaned close enough to whisper in my ear. “You’re letting them get to you.”

“I know.” I sat back, leaning against his side. “How are you?”

His lips pressed to my hair. “In here, I can relax a little. Out there—” He paused, and his muscles tensed under my cheek. “I don’t know if I’m going to be a help or a hindrance.”

“Do you need to stay behind?” I sat up and looked him in the eye. “Be honest.”

He ran a hand through his hair, digging his fingers into his scalp. “I can’t sit here and let you go up there alone. I can tell the difference between what is a replay and what is reality. I may be useful, in the end.”

“Not what I asked you.” All at once, it was hard to swallow and the room grew hot. “Haven? Answer me.”

“You can’t rely on me.” His voice was hoarse, and barely audible. “We need to take someone else with us, besides Gabriel. Just in case.”

His arms slipped around my waist and he pulled me against him, squeezing tight. “Just don’t leave me behind, okay? I can’t stand that.”

I licked my lips. “If you think that, maybe you should stay here.”

“I’m just being overly cautious.”

“You can’t take it back now, Haven. There’s nothing wrong with staying here.”

He released me and glared. “Cain doesn’t understand your gifts. Gabriel I don’t trust. You’re not leaving here without me.”

“Fine.” I took a deep breath. “But if you cause problems, I reserve the right to knock you over your head and toss you back downstairs.”

“Deal.”

“You two are getting too mushy for words,” Grant said, flopping into a chair next to us. “I’m feeling ill just watching you.”

I stuck out my tongue.

“Shouldn’t you be helping George out?” Haven asked, refusing to let me off his lap when I tugged on his hand.

Grant rolled his eyes. “Chill, lover boy. George sent me over here. He’s flipping out over one of the cameras. It keeps fuzzing out.”

Though he kept his sarcasm, I could see the tiny line between his brows. His eyes kept flicking back to the computer bank and George’s face, illuminated blue in the glow from the screens.

“What is it showing?” Haven’s hands finally relaxed their hold and I slid onto the seat next to him.

“I think it’s the group in the back room.” Grant hooked his arm behind his head. “I thought this would be hard, but I didn’t count on it being this hard.”

Mom stood up, and every eye in the room, including George, focused on her. She stepped closer. Light from the lanterns played with her features. Her nose seemed broader. Her chin more defined. She’s nearly gone. My eyes burned. I’ll lose her and no one will even know the difference.

Haven straightened, scooted to the edge of his seat. Mom crouched next to Grant. “Poor baby. Did you think this would be like a nightmare you could just wake up from?” She clicked her tongue. “Even if you left this house now, I would haunt you forever. Even better, I would enjoy it.”

Before I could speak, Haven stood. But he froze when Bryan appeared on our right. His hands were clenched into fists, the white knuckles glowing in the dark. “Leave him alone.”

I expected Mom to laugh. She didn’t. Instead, she rose, then took a tiny step back. Her shadowy features watched him closely. For the first time, I wondered what Bryan knew the rest of us could not. He’d been plagued by the spirits here for years. They’d learned the way in and out of his head after their contact with him so many years ago. Their influence had been light, but steady.

What did the thing inside my mother fear he knew?

I couldn’t ask, because Gabriel, Cain, and Laura burst back into the room. Deon and Julia followed close behind. They’d been in the kitchen doing some base readings. All of them panted, their faces pale in the dim room.

“What the hell happened?” George demanded.

Cain shook his head, gulping for air like a drowning man. “We got locked in.”

Laura slid down the wall near the door, her face in her hands. “This place is insane. In every sense of the word.”

“We’ve established that,” George said, rising. “But the cameras in there keep fuzzing in and out. Did the portables catch anything?”

Gabriel dropped to the sofa. “Who the hell cares?”

Haven surprised me, moving away to take Gabriel’s camera from him. He messed with the screen and buttons, then sighed. “They got some of it, but it isn’t clear exactly what happened.”

“Again, why does it matter?” The irritation had leaked out of his words. Now he sounded only curious.

“Because if we can see what’s going on, we can keep it from happening again.”

“Here? Or somewhere else?”

Haven shrugged. Gabriel didn’t pursue it.

“We’ve managed to get through the downstairs.” Julia said. “Thank God Deon and I had the extra keys. Before anyone does anything else, we need you to check and see if we’ve missed anything down here.”

All eyes turned to me. The clock on the second floor struck in the silence, the sound bouncing around. Mocking me, it seemed, with those deep peals. Eleven o’clock. If we hadn’t done what we needed, there was little chance we’d be able to finish.

“Why do we have to do all this? Why not just try and call them up individually?” Deon asked. “I’ve been involved in a few of those. They work, though they take some time.”

Haven shook his head. “There’s too many.”

“They’re connected,” I said.

“What?” Grant asked.

Even Haven turned and looked at me.

“They’re all kept here by Horace and her. All the spirits have to be in one place, or we’ll be totally ineffective. They can’t leave unless she releases them.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense. No one spirit can have so much power.” Deon clenched and unclenched his hands.

Gabriel groaned and stood. “Yes, it does. She’s right.”

Cain sighed, rubbing a finger over the bridge of his nose. “Technically, when we go through the rooms we’re exorcizing them. But they aren’t leaving. They’re just heading into rooms we haven’t gone to yet. We’re herding them, because they can’t escape.”

“Well, hell.”

“You can say that again,” Grant told him.

Cain moved behind the computer bank with George. “Take a breather. If anyone needs something from the kitchen, take a friend or two. We’ll start upstairs in about ten minutes. Julia and Laura need to restock their batteries.”

Deon snagged Grant’s shirt. “Come on, man. You and Haven can come with me. We’re headed for snacks, drinks, and the bathroom. Not necessarily in that order.”

“I’ll come along.” Gabriel grunted, dropping his equipment, except for the worn leather book, and followed them.

Haven started and I caught at his hand. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

He looked from me to Deon and back. “Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

Suspicion gnawed at me. “You guys aren’t planning to go macho on us, are you?”

“Of course not. You come as far as the hall and check to see how we’re doing. Then we’ll go on to the kitchen. It should be fine if we’ve managed to clear this floor, right?”

Hesitant, I nodded. “I think so. Though I don’t know how it will be for you. Your gift isn’t tied to the ghosts.”

Haven shrugged. “No time like the present to find out, right?”

He was being too casual. I followed them out in the hall, leaning against the wall. I didn’t wait for anyone to ask me, I just closed my eyes and cracked open the mental doors around my head.

I flinched. Above me, I could see the spirits, restless points of dark light, pushing against the barriers we’d set up. The silence around me was almost as oppressive as the ghosts’ energy. While I couldn’t hear them clearly, I could feel them pounding to get in like a physical reaction. As if I traveled at high elevations without being able to pop my ears.

I closed myself off and threaded my fingers through my hair. “They’re out of here for now, but they don’t like it. We don’t have forever. If they push hard enough for long enough, they’ll undo everything.”

Deon glanced upward, his body relaxing a bit. “All right then. Tell Cain what you found. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

***

By the time they returned, Cain had already decided I would remain downstairs until they got to the third floor. He expressed concern over Haven when I asked him to come with us to the last floor. He’d agreed, but with a condition. He wanted Haven with him when they moved through the third floor.

I related all this to Haven when he returned with the others. I expected him to argue. Instead, he nodded once and accepted a camcorder from George.

Grant rose. “I’m going too.”

“Grant—”

He shook his head, his mouth in a tight line. Fear glittered in his eyes, but so did determination. “I’m not going to sit here like a baby all night, Claire. Bryan has plenty of watchers. He’s not going anywhere. I have to do this, or I’ll feel like a coward.”

I looked at Haven, holding out my hands. “Talk to him.”

Giving me an apologetic grin, he lifted one shoulder. “If he says he needs to do this, he needs to. He’ll be all right. We’ll make sure.”

Anger sparked in my gut. “You three better make sure he does, or I’ll make those ghosts the least of your problems. And you,” I turned to my brother, poking at his chest with one finger. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Chill, Sis. You’re panic is showing.” When I would have argued more, he interrupted me. “No. You aren’t going to let anyone else go to the fourth floor are you?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Sure it is. You’re only taking someone because we insist. So you’re going to be quiet and let me go. After all, you’re not my mother.”

Crossing my arms, I glared at him. They left then, without anything else to be said. Julia came over, offering a small smile.

“They’ll be all right. We sent more of them than before, besides”—her smile faded, and her voice grew softer—“I think everyone can tell they’re waiting for you.”

I blinked.

“I’m a little psychic. Not much. Normally, I can’t feel much of anything. But tonight…” She leaned against the edge of the couch. “Things are different.”

“They want us, but they need you more.” Bryan sat near us, staring off into space, his fingers worrying at the edge of his shirt. I don’t even think he knew he spoke to us.

“Excuse me, my dear jailers, but I’m afraid I’m in need of the facilities.” Mom stood near us, a strange twist to her lips. “I’m sure you’re going to require an escort.”

Deon scooted away from his place changing batteries. “Come on, Julia. We’ll stop by the kitchen. I want to take those base readings one more time, since we were interrupted before. We’ll take her and get her on the way back.”

They left, and I retreated to the other side of the room, mulling over things in my head. It wasn’t until much later anyone noticed anything strange. Nearly a half hour later, Haven came back in with a haggard looking Gabriel and flopped onto the couch.

Grant sagged against the doorframe, then frowned. “Where did Mom go?”

I started. “What?”

“She was here when I left. Where did she go?”

I blinked. “Deon and Julia took her to the bathroom on their way to redo the baseline readings.”

My heart sped up. Deon and Julia looked at each other and stood. “Crap. We thought she’d come back before us.”

Her rocking chair was empty. She hadn’t returned. Guilt flooded me. “Shit. I didn’t even notice.”

We grabbed flashlights and headed out, calling her name. After five minutes that seemed like hours, a shout from upstairs had us running. I flew around the third floor landing, toward the tower room. Someone inside groaned.

We ran in, finding Haven and Cain creeping up the metal spiral steps. The whole structure swayed under their weight. Beneath, Gabriel and Grant watched, both unloading what they carried into a small pile. Mom was draped across three or four of the stairs near the top, illuminated in Grant’s quivering flashlight beam. Blood dripped down her forehead.

***

“Oh God.” I whispered, moving slowly inside. As if my movements could disturb the scene in front of me. I stopped next to Grant and Gabriel. “How did you find her?”

“Haven.” Gabriel told me. His entire body looked tense, as if he were ready to catch anyone who might fall. “We barely finished the blessing on the third floor, and he was running down the stairs, calling to us about the tower.”

“She’s breathing!” Cain called down.

The stairs moved again, the metal releasing a haunting moan. I closed my eyes, opening myself. Despite our efforts, the barriers we’d placed were weakening. I could see faint traces of ghostly influence working on the metal. They wanted it to fail.

“Hurry up, Haven.” I breathed the words, more to myself than to anyone else.

Still, I saw his head come up and his eyes found mine in the shadowy light. He nodded once. He knew what was going on.

Finally, he climbed around to lift her head, while Cain got her feet. Between the two of them, they got her downstairs and laid her on the floor. Julia rushed over, her hands moved over Mom’s limbs and pulse points with quick efficiency.

She flashed a smile at me. “I’m an EMT in my free time. Comes in handy when we’re doing this kind of stuff.”

I used my shirt to wipe away some of the blood from Mom’s face. Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked up for a moment. “Claire? What’s happening? I don’t feel well at all.”

Tears sprung to my eyes. As I sat there, I looked closer, really looked, and saw only her spirit flickered before me. Confused, small, but growing stronger. Horace had left her. Whether because of the blessing or because they were regrouping, I didn’t know.

Despite everything, a thrill moved through me and I smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll get you all fixed up.”

Tears burned my eyes. I could admit now I’d nearly convinced myself the final exorcism might damage her permanently. Or worse. Knowing she would be all right was a huge relief.

“I’m so tired. What is wrong with me?” Her words were slurred.

“You’re fine.” I looked up at Julia. “Just go to sleep.”

“She could have a concussion, though I don’t think so.”

Mom’s eyelids fluttered closed. Her hand patted my knee awkwardly. “Good girl.”

I sniffed, watching as Mom’s breathing fell into an easy, restful pattern.

“Look at this.” Julia pushed Mom’s hair to the side, revealing a red line, broken in places into thin cuts, disappearing around the back of her neck.

She had ripped off the locket.

“Whatever you do tonight,” I said. “Don’t put on any jewelry, okay?”

The others nodded. Julia snorted. “Anything this house gives you, I’d say no to.”

“Can we move her?” Cain asked.

Julia nodded and Deon picked her up.

“I think she’s stunned and weak from the possession. But we should probably take her to the ER and get her checked out.”

“Would you two take her? If Cain doesn’t mind?” I asked.

They exchanged a look, and Deon started toward the door. “No offense, Claire, but this is one case I’ll be fine if I don’t see the end of. No matter which way it turns out, I’ll have nightmares.”

Grant scrubbed at his eyes and tried to cover a sniffle. I reached over and hugged him. “It’s going to be all right.”

He nodded against my shoulder and pulled away. We all rose, following Deon and Julia downstairs. Haven fell into step beside me, and I paused at the top of the stairs to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“If you hadn’t gotten there, they’d have caused the whole thing to collapse. If you hadn’t succeeded up on the third floor, they’d have managed it. So thank you.”

He pulled me under his arm. “I’d tell you I’d be glad to do it anytime, but the truth is, I’d like this night to never be repeated again.”

“You and me both.”

Even though the house felt lighter now that we’d managed to cleanse everything to the third floor, it wasn’t finished yet. I glanced upward, sensing the energy we’d shoved aside like a dense black cloud writhing in the rafters. We didn’t have much time before it crashed down and crushed us beneath the weight of its hate.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Mom and Bryan were loaded into one of the vans with Julie and Deon. Everyone was concerned at Bryan’s lack of touch with reality, and while Mom seemed to be all right, it was better to get her clear before she could wake up and argue.

Instead, George and Grant sat with the equipment, while Laura argued with Cain on the other side of the room.

Haven threaded his fingers with mine. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. Its eleven forty five. We’ve got fifteen minutes for someone to make the last move. I’d rather it be me.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “I’d feel better if this were over already.”

“You and everyone else.”

Cain came closer, Laura following behind. Judging by the scowl on her face, she wasn’t done arguing.

“Why does it have to be on Halloween?” he asked.

“It’s because of the thinness of the barrier and the strength they have in this house. It makes it equal territory. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to make her go anywhere she didn’t want.”

He sighed. “Just you, me, and Haven? No one else upstairs?”

I shook my head. “If we can’t do it, then it can’t be done at all.”

“I’m going too,” Gabriel told me, crossing his arms. “You’ll need me.”

I nodded.

“I should be allowed to go, Claire.” Grant crossed his arms, planting his feet. “You can’t expect me to sit here and wait.”

“Grant, we’ve been through this. You come, and she’s got someone to use against me. Stay here. Go outside. But don’t come upstairs.”

George draped an arm over Grant’s shoulders. “Between Laura and me, he’ll stay. No stupid heroics will be performed in our presence.”

He jerked away, then gave me a hug. “Don’t do anything dumb, okay?”

I squeezed and released him. “Not any more than normal.”

I looked around the faces illuminated in the light from the lanterns. We were a grim-looking crew. Forcing a smile, I clapped my hands together. “Shall we?”

“You’re all nuts. We should get the hell out of here and torch this place.” Laura muttered, dropping onto the couch and cradling her head in her hands. Cain leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, whispering something in her ear.

She flapped a hand at him. “Get going. The sooner you’re done, the better.”

I led the way upstairs, a box-cutter in one hand, my flashlight in the other. Haven carried a crow bar. The grandfather clock in the hall ticked, and I passed the beam of the flashlight over it. Ten minutes. Not much time.

The peace of the other floors began to lessen as we hit the third floor. The spirits weren’t through the barrier yet, but they were close. As we filed down the hallway, every door slammed shut in unison and I nearly dropped the tool in my hands.

Gabriel uttered an oath.

“Careful,” I called back. “You’re going to have to say a lot of Hail Marys if you keep it up.”

Haven chuckled.

“I told you. Not that kind of priest,” Gabriel said.

I moved to the alcove we’d found earlier and squeezed the box cutter tight in my damp fingers. “Ready?”

Everyone nodded.

Finding the groove with my fingers, illuminated by Haven’s flashlight, I slid the knife into the heavy wallpaper. Just the first cut made my breath come quicker.

“Good Lord,” Haven whispered.

I paused.

“Keep going. It’s like a Band-Aid. Better to do it all at once.”

Sweat broke out on my upper lip as I cut through the heavy wallpaper, the blade slipping easily in the groove between the hidden door and the wall. Once I had, air flowed through, bringing the scent of age and rot with it. It almost seemed as though the house itself breathed. I coughed and Haven shoved the crowbar into the gap.

Cain moved forward, and together they wiggled the metal into the gap. With a grunt, the door swung open with a moan.

A shudder moved over my skin in the wake of the foul breeze that drifted down. I took a deep breath in spite of the smell and moved my flashlight beam to examine what was in front of us. A steep set of worn wooden stairs led into darkness my light couldn’t penetrate. A thick carpet of dust lay over bits of paper and dead bugs. Other lumps rested in the corners, things I didn’t examine closely. I squinted at the top of the stairs, but it was as if the shadows consumed the beam.

“Don’t get too far ahead,” Haven whispered.

“Definitely not going to be a problem.”

He squeezed my hand and released it.

I paused. “Ready?”

Cain mumbled an affirmative. Haven lit a stick of sage, and Gabriel, pale beneath his sweat dampened locks, nodded. He pulled a bottle of holy water from the bag at his side and flipped the worn leather book open.

I moved forward, and the instant my foot touched the top stair, it was as though a thousand needles pierced my skin. With a gasp, I stumbled, my hands slipping in the thick layer of dust on the steps. Haven reached down, helping me up.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Just a misstep.”

Haven shook my arm a little. “I can feel it too. Don’t lie.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re going.” Without waiting to hear his protest, I got back to my feet, keeping my fingertips on the wall. With careful steps, we finished our climb into the attic.

At the top, I fell to my knees, the pressure of the ghosts in the small space a crushing weight on my skull. I pushed back and struggled to my feet. Behind me, I heard Haven cry out, his own senses working against him. He stumbled, falling into a chaise lounge which splintered under his weight. While his abilities might not lean toward active spirits, they could still see the difference in him.

How DARE YOU!

My flashlight had rolled away, the light going out. I took Haven’s from his shaking hand as he crawled from the broken pieces of furniture. Gritting my teeth, I took a step forward. Gabriel’s hand grabbed my arm, but I shook him off. Somewhere to my right, I was aware of Cain helping Haven.

“My fight,” I gasped. “Just stay there.”

“Don’t be stubborn.” Cain released Haven once he got his feet under him, but there was no force behind his words. Sweat dripped down his forehead.

“Focus,” Gabriel hissed.

I turned my back to them all and swept my light over the room. Three tiny windows, barred and long broken, ran along the length of the room. Barely enough to breathe from. A broken cot, moth eaten, the stuffing oozing out one side. A variety of flotsam littered the floor.

But I choked back a startled scream as I drew the beam directly in front of me. A skeleton, mouth open in a silent scream, sat in a chair, still draped in a printed dress, with an afghan across its lap. A leg bone protruded from a giant hole in the blanket. Next to the armchair the corpse reclined in, a baby doll rested in a crib. The glass eyes glittered like a living thing, staring out into the dark.

You found your way here. Congratulations. The voice was female, sharp, and buffeted me, body and soul, like a gale-force wind. Laughter echoed around us, and somehow I knew the others could hear her too. You can’t believe smoke and some water will keep me from what I want, do you?

“You have no power over us.” Haven’s voice was a gargled croak. “You’ve no body. No purpose here.”

No purpose? Oh, silly boy. Better to keep your thoughts to yourself. I can drive you to your knees and make you whimper for help in the time between one breath and the next.

“Enough. Leave them out of this. You want me. Here I am.”

Are they worth defending? Honestly, I can’t understand what you see in them. They quake at the sight of bones and decay. But not you.

Her voice rang with admiration, and my lip curled in disgust. “What do you want?”

So eager to be finished. Don’t spoil my opinion of you, my dear. Have you figured out my riddle yet? Don’t you know why I need you, Claire?

“No. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Don’t provoke it.” Gabriel moved a little closer. He seemed more composed than the other two. As if this is what he expected.

He did. That one has more secrets than the both of us, you know.

He jerked. Haven staggered to my right. Cain remained behind us. I squinted. “Why are you stalling?”

A blast of air nearly knocked us off balance, stirring the dirt and dust to life. The skeleton moved, the bones clicking and clacking into place, the mouth closing in a parody of a smile.

You are in my house. My domain. Show me the respect I deserve. Now, are you going to answer me, Claire?

Swallowing, I switched the flashlight to the other hand, the plastic handle slick with my sweat. “You need me. I’m your way out. A psychic is straddling the living and the dead. So if they’re dead, they’re part of two worlds again?”

Ah, smart and beautiful. Well, almost. You have the part the others would have me use. But it is a tiny part of what I intend to have. Through you, we could leave this house. Move on. Yet I find this place has grown on me.

The skeleton took two steps, the afghan falling away.

“Grown on you?” I couldn’t keep my disgust out of my voice. “You’re as twisted as the ones who put you here. Worse, actually, because you’ve tortured them far longer and far worse than Horace ever could have. They want to leave.”

They think they will. Can you feel them? They practically salivate for your soul. Only I stand between you and them. They think I’m playing with you. I promised them you.

“But?”

I lied.

My heart rate rose. “What else could you possibly want Maggie?”

She paused, the skull tilting slightly.

Figured it out, did you? So much the better. I’ve been nameless for too long.

I could feel her push back the others. She seemed to have formed her own barrier between them and us. Outside, they panted like a pack of starving wolves, ready to rend and tear anything in their way.

You are my stepping stone to something better. Something more.

She pushed at us with all her malice. The barriers on my mind dissolved into nothing and I winced, tears escaping. Haven groaned behind me. Even Gabriel made a whimper of distress. I felt exposed, set out naked in a blizzard and attacked by knives of ice.

“You don’t intend on setting any of us free, do you?”

Of course not. Crushed dreams, the hopeless, despair. These are the dishes I dine on now. So go on and fight me, Claire Mallory. It will make the winning sweeter.

“No.” I stepped forward, despite the pain radiating through my body and soul. “You want me to fight you. A willing sacrifice isn’t what you want. No one here has come willingly, especially not you.”

A whisper of concern moved through Maggie. I could see it in the way the skeleton balked suddenly, the lessening of the storm raging around and inside me. Inside my head I could see her as she once was. Lovely, but the time spent locked in this attic had turned her cruel, then in her madness into something worse.

Her eyes lit on me, and shadows covered them, turned them black. Her smile was more a grimace of bared teeth. She took another step toward me and I whimpered. The time I spent in the psych ward, the days of endless thoughts from those around me—all those were nothing compared to this. I could barely distinguish between the tangible world and the intangible.

Vaguely, I was aware of Haven falling beside me, his fingers brushed my leg. Cain was long since gone. Gabriel was on his knees, his holy water in one hand, his book in the other. Their images blurred, and I was close enough to Maggie to smell the stench of death and darkness on her bones. Dust tickled my nose, and I think I sneezed.

I reached out, physically and mentally. My arms wrapped around the moldy bones, clutching them against me. My eyes stared into the hollow sockets, filled with spider webs. But in my mind I saw the rage twist her features. She locked mental arms around me as well, and black, shadow flames licked at our feet. The mingled with red, and Maggie’s eyes blazed into mine until I screamed.

You think this will work? Wrong. Your last mistake.

It burned like nothing I’d ever experienced before, but I held on. I ground my teeth together. “If you’re going to take me, Maggie, you’ll do it because I allow you to. You’ll take me in front of your grandson, kill his love as yours was killed. You’ll do it, and you’ll know exactly what you’ve made of yourself. Revenge came for you a long time ago. Now you’re worse than the monster who kept you here.”

You can’t do this. He is not my grandson! My child died! Horace took him from me and he died!

“No, he didn’t. He took him, yes. The child lived, and there, hurting because of you, is proof.”

NO! She struggled, the flames leaping higher. Around us, her hold on the other spirits slipped. They crowded close before she could catch them again.

“Not what you planned?” I dropped to my knees, taking her with me. The bones began to fall apart. Gabriel moved forward, his actual features lost. I could only see the gold flame of him, and the blue blaze of Haven as they ripped away pieces of Maggie’s body.

You and yours will suffer for this and your lies. Many times over.

I didn’t understand how I knew what to do. But I did. I kept my grip on her skull as the ribs slid away from me. My body was almost an afterthought, and it took much concentration to feel my hands. Pain was becoming a part of me.

“I’m going to win, even if it means I lose.”

I could feel her struggles lessening. She was gathering herself for a final blow. Somehow, even though I was only half aware of myself, I knew midnight was beginning to strike. With one hand, I reached out. Part of speaking with the dead was being able to see them, and to see those doorways leading to places they wanted to go. Maggie’s hold on those gateways, kept so tight over the years, relaxed. She threw herself at me, her energy, her soul, merging with mine, latching onto me in ways I never dreamed possible.

You’re going to die, and you’re going to give me the power I seek. I’ll move out of this prison and into the world, and I’ll take them with me. I’ll be a demon. A darkness people tremble before.

Her hold on the others dropped away as she poured her hatred and violence on me. I struggled, but the pain was so intense, it transcended anything I’d ever known. Splints of fire and ice replaced my bones. Teeth clamped on to my flesh and tore. Voices swirled around us.

The spirits saw they had a chance.

Like a pack of rabid dogs on a wounded member, they turned on Maggie. I thought they’d take both of us. I blinked, forcing myself to focus on the real world. Gabriel and Haven sat on either side of me.

“Finish it,” Gabriel said. His lips moved, saying more, but I lost my grip.

Maggie’s claws flexed in my mind, and I cried out. Someone’s hands closed on me, and the pain lessened. Took some of the load. Haven.

I shook my head. Saw the circle of salt and chalk Gabriel had been drawing around me. Strange symbols lined the floor. Trapping me and her. Haven’s eyes met mine. I saw my pain in him, and his tears winking in the shadows.

“Love you.”

I turned my attention back. The spirits seemed to sense a change in the wind and a few tried to run. They slammed into a barrier. We were all trapped there. Inside the circle. The end.

Maggie screamed, her hands wrapping around my throat. Gabriel’s voice became loud, like he spoke through a microphone. The syllables were foreign. Latin, I think. The spirits cheered. Maggie roared.

A portal opened, and it was almost like fresh air rushed through my mind. The spirits cried out as one, turning away and heading toward that light. But not all got so far. Horace and a few others reached for it, but another portal opened behind me. There was brilliance there too, but it was like sharp points of obsidian. Beautiful and terrible.

Maggie snarled, her face twisted into something hideous and inhuman. Her fingers broke through flesh, digging deeper.

I struggled, but it wasn’t to go back to reality. I couldn’t feel the wood under my knees anymore, or the smooth texture of the bones. There was only pain, and the struggle to separate myself from Maggie. The light beckoned to me as well, and I wanted it. There was comfort there. Ease. No more worry.

Haven called me, I think, but I could only feel the pain Maggie inflicted, and the draw of the beautiful world on the other side of the portal.

Shapes, more shadow than real form began to zip around us. Maggie cried out, a panicked cry, as one ran a long finger across her back. Clawed fingers grabbed for her, latching into her clothes and hair. They pulled, and she bared her teeth at me.

You’ll see me again, Claire Mallory.

Her fingers loosened, then fell away as they descended on her. Their wings and claws moved too fast for me to see, and I was glad of it. It pulled her in, and the things within turned their attention to me. The hot breath of death burned the back of my neck. At the last minute, it rumbled, and closed.

The other portal drew all my attention. As I drifted close enough to feel its warmth, a hand latched on to my shoulder and yanked. I hovered there, fighting the grip keeping me away. Before I could loosen myself again, the door closed. I wanted to cry and shout.

I fell back into myself with a gasp, just in time for Haven to pull me away as Maggie’s bones flashed in a brief, hot blaze and then blackened into ash.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I leaned into Haven’s chest, my vision coming back in splotches. Wetness dripped onto my forehead.

“Don’t you ever do that again, do you hear?” He shook me.

“What?”

“You were dead. Or close enough.”

Gabriel appeared over Haven’s shoulder, his face pale. Sweat plastered his hair to his head. “You were brilliant and stupid. But it worked. Thank God.”

Still, I wondered at the way he glanced around. The lines around his eyes and mouth hinted that something was off. Something hadn’t been done right. But he didn’t comment on it.

I kicked the thought away. It was over. The house was clear. Open. Like I could look at the ceiling and see straight through to the stars.

“You helped. Pulled me back,” I said, running my fingertips over Haven’s cheek. They came back damp with tears. “Thank you.”

He pressed his lips to mine. It wasn’t gentle, but a desperate kiss. A way for him to make sure I was still here.

Someone coughed. Cain, dust-stained and breathing heavy, smiled wide. “While this is great, can we please go downstairs?”

An attack of the giggles overcame me as Gabriel extended a hand and Haven and I got up. I looked up at my boyfriend and smiled. “You can feel it too, right?”

His face was drooping with fatigue, but he grinned. “Feel what?”

Cain preceded us downstairs. “Hallelujah!”

All the doors were open. The air smelled fresh, like someone had just opened all the windows and a spring breeze had gone through. The batteries in Cain’s flashlight, which we’d thought dead, came to life and we all jumped.

Nervous laughter escaped me. I had to keep reminding myself it was over. She was gone.

“The thing you said, the prayer or whatever, what was it?” I asked Gabriel.

He shrugged, tucking the ever-present book into his bag for the first time. “Just a bit of Latin prayer. It’s not about the words as much as the action. You were willing to give up everything for all of us. It counts for a lot.”

The memory of that peace lingered, and I sighed. Haven’s arm slid around my waist, and his lips pressed against my temple. “I felt it too,” he whispered. “It wasn’t time. For any of us.”

“You knew going in?” I stopped short in the middle of the stairs.

Cain crossed his arms and raised a brow.

His lips twisted up. “Sadly, no. The future is always fuzzy. It changes every time you make a decision. I couldn’t see anything until after Maggie and the others were gone.”

“You could hardly see anything at all from the moment we walked up there.” Gabriel said, heading for the living room.

Even in the dim light, I could see Haven’s cheeks darken in a blush when I looked up. “Yeah, well, it all worked out.”

“Yes.” I tightened my arm around his waist. “It did.”

George, Laura, and Grant were squeezed around the computers, their eyes locked on the screen. The thin, reedy screams from earlier echoed through the tiny pair of travel speakers.

Grant looked up, then ran around the table and grabbed me in a hug. “You’re okay. I thought I told you not to do anything stupid.”

“Funny, I don’t remember.”

He smacked my arm. “Don’t do that again.”

Cain hugged Laura, who sobbed into his chest.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb toward the door. “I’ll get the lights back on.”

A few moments later, the house was ablaze with light. We all blinked and squinted, until George looked up, pale.

“Who turned on the lights?”

“Gabriel,” I told him.

His frown deepened. “Who?”

Cain turned then. “There hasn’t been anyone named Gabriel with us. Were you talking to a spirit? Did we miss one?”

I looked up at Haven, who had the same incredulous look on his face.

“He was here. The whole time.”

George scratched his head. “I don’t think so. But if you say so, and he’s gone now, I’ll take it as it is.”

Cain didn’t look so convinced. “Are you sure? We didn’t miss anything?”

I closed my eyes, double checked the huge scar that ran across the house in my mind. No spirits remained. I forced a smile and patted Haven’s hand. His hold on me was tight.

“We did our job. Maybe it was just the last hurrah of something coming by to congratulate us.”

Laura’s wide eyes moved to Haven. “Did you see him?”

He nodded. “I did. He isn’t anything to worry about.”

Though Cain continued to watch us, they seemed to accept our explanation. After everything, what else was left to say? It was obvious that nothing evil was left in the house. Not now.

While Haven was busy helping Grant gather the celebratory snacks and soda from the kitchen, I stepped into the hall. Gabriel stood there, staring upstairs. He twirled the strange signet around his finger.

“No one else knows you are here,” I said.

He glanced over his shoulder and turned. “You know. I’m real. Not spirit. Not by a long shot. They don’t need to know I’m here.”

“I feel like we should do something for her. For them,” I said.

He smiled. “I like that about you, you know. You’ve managed to get through all this without letting it change who you are, fundamentally.”

My brow furrowed. “Why would it?”

He lifted one shoulder, his eyes sliding away from mine. “It happens, you know. I’ve seen a lot of things like this. Or similar, anyway. This was a…unique experience. People can end up affected in ways you wouldn’t begin to understand.”

I couldn’t tell where he was going with this.

He shook his head and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll go up and take care of disposing of the ashes properly. Don’t want to give anyone any reasons to come back, right?”

I nodded and he headed upstairs. With each step, his feet dragged, as if he were weighed down. I didn’t know what he hid, but Gabriel had a lot of secrets. Again I wondered just what was in the book he carried everywhere.

“Are you dangerous?” I asked.

He paused. “That depends on who you ask. But tonight, I’m a threat to nobody. And once I leave, not even you and Haven will remember I was here.”

Grant and Haven passed by, laden with food.

“Come on, Sis. There’s chocolate, special for you!”

With a last glance at Gabriel’s retreating back, I allowed my attention to turn to the living room. I paused in the doorway, wondering what I’d been doing out in the hall to begin with. There was something. Someone?

The thought stayed just out of reach. With a sigh, I brushed it off and headed into the living room. It was over and done. We accomplished our task. No ghosts roamed the halls. We were safe again.

I paused outside the living room, watching. Rolled the word around in my mind.

Safe. I could live with that.

***

Three Months Later

Haven and I slid the last of the boxes into the back of the moving truck. I wiped a hand over my brow.

“So this is it, huh?”

I nodded. “But we’re only going about half an hour away. And Mom has promised we’re finishing the year here.”

He pulled me to his chest. “It won’t be the same without you right here.”

“I know.” I looked up at the house. It had been peaceful since Halloween. Bryan was in psychiatric care on his own admission. No one was sure what he told the doctors, or if he’d told the truth about Melanie.

The weirdest part about the whole thing had been when they met the next day, as promised, to “debrief.” I’d woken up, remembering my strange conversation with everyone about Gabriel. I’d even mentioned the name a few times that day, but no one seemed to remember him. Haven and Grant remembered, but it was like a strange dream. Fuzzy, and unformed.

I worried about it for a month, and then decided I would accept it as a strange, miraculous bit of help. Some things weren’t meant to be looked at too closely. Or so I told myself. Any other nagging doubts I attributed to my paranoia. It was hard to go from being haunted constantly to living in a house without any supernatural events.

“So when do you leave?”

I sighed. “We’ll do one more walk through the house, and then we’re going. Mom is driving the truck, Grant is driving her car, and I’ll take mine.”

That was another thing. Mom had shown up with it the same day we announced we were moving. I hadn’t argued.

“Has your mom sold the house yet?”

I shook my head. “No. There’s been two couples walk through, but they didn’t like it. Too much work, too old.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m not sure I want anyone to move in, you know?”

“Why?”

“It just seems…unfinished somehow. I know we did what we needed to. I can’t tell you why, and yet, it just doesn’t seem like it could really be over.”

“It’s probably just because you got so used to it. Eventually this will feel normal, and it will just be a bad dream.” He kissed me, until Grant rounded the back of the truck and cleared his throat.

“Gross. Didn’t anyone tell you siblings are supposed to reproduce like amoebas? That means no kissing.”

I laughed. “Whatever.”

Grant flipped a couple of envelopes at us. “These came in the mailbox while I was standing there. Weird substitute mailman too. Way too smiley.”

“Too smiley?” Haven chuckled.

Grant pointed a finger. “Hey, people who smile like that have secrets. Big ones. With teeth.”

Mom called him, and he headed back to the front rolling his eyes.

Before I tore the envelope, I turned it in my hands. Butterflies fluttered in my gut.

“Haven?”

“Hmm?”

I licked my lips. “Have you seen anything about the house? In the future, I mean.”

He looked back at the newly painted building. For a moment, I wasn’t sure he’d answer me. Finally, he turned back to me. “I’ve seen something. But I think it’s just my mind trying to deal with what we saw.”

“What if it isn’t?”

He shrugged. “It isn’t clear. Just a feeling. Either way, it doesn’t matter.” He grinned. “Remember, it’s just like I told you. What you eat for breakfast can change the future. Just my leaning over and pecking you on the nose changes things.”

He did just that, and I rolled my eyes. There was comfort in the teasing. If he’d seen something truly bad, he would tell me.

“You’re ridiculous sometimes.”

He waved a finger. “No. It’s a proven fact. Chaos theory. You know, the one about a butterfly farts and it rains cats and dogs across the world or something.”

I laughed, then looked at the envelope in my hands. The only thing on it was my name, in distinct block letters. No address. No return. No stamp.

I slid my finger under the flap and ripped it open. A small card fell out, and I picked it up, examining the gold foil embossing closely.

Haven did the same, and we held the identical cards up.

“I knew I saw his ring before. I just didn’t know where.”

Haven turned his card, the sun sparkling off the raised swoops and curls. “Do you know where now?”

I shook my head. “Still familiar, and still have no idea.”

I searched the card, running my fingers over the thick cardstock. There was no writing other than the design, a replica of Gabriel’s ring. I frowned.

“How did they know to deliver one to you here?”

“I don’t know,” Haven said. “Maybe they saw me standing back here. It’s a small town, after all.”

“Doesn’t really matter much anyway.” With a shrug, I put it in my pocket. We were leaving this place, Haven and I were talking about going to the same college in the fall, and Mom had gotten me my own car.

Things were looking up.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

No book is ever written without help. Critique partners, family, friends, everyone plays an important part. I want to thank many people, so bear with me.

First, my family: Mom and Dad, thank you for always being supportive, for teaching me to never give up, and for giving me a love of the written word and reading. You never discouraged any of my weird ideas, and they’re finally playing off! Grandma, thank you for always encouraging me, and for all the phone calls to ask when it was going to be out and what I was working on next. Smelly, thanks for being the best brother ever. Remember, this hits the bestseller’s list and I’m holding you to that promise.

Thank you to my “bestie” Sammi Rozakis, for dealing with my moans and groans and listening when I needed to talk through something. You’re the best!

Thank you to Rebekah Purdy for critiquing this, for the YAFFers who helped whip this into shape when it was still a couple of chapters and an idea, and to Jennifer Mishler, who championed it. This was a labor of love, and I couldn’t have done it without you all.

Last, but not least, Randy, thank you for being my own personal Haven. In all of the ways that word implies. I love you.

VANESSA BARGER

Vanessa Barger was born in West Virginia, and after several moves ended up spending the majority of her life in Virginia Beach, Virginia. She is a graduate of George Mason University and Old Dominion University, and has degrees in Graphic Design, a minor in Medieval and Renaissance Literature, and a Masters in Technology Education. She has had articles published in Altered Arts Magazine, has had some artwork displayed in galleries in Ohio and online, and currently teaches engineering, practical physics, drafting and other technological things to high school students in the Hampton Roads area of Virginia. She is a member of the SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators) and the Virginia Writer’s Club. When not writing or teaching, she’s a bookaholic, movie fanatic, and loves to travel. She has one cat, who believes Vanessa lives only to open cat food cans, and can often be found baking when she should be editing.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Preview more great YA titles from Month9Books

Table of Contents

- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- VANESSA BARGER

- Preview more great YA titles from Month9Books.

- Table of Contents