“If I have to listen to any more Styx, I’m throwing myself from the car.”

“Remember to tuck and roll when you land.”

“Very funny,” Lucy grumbled, crossing her arms. “Don't know why we can't listen to my music for once.”

“As I've told you--”

“‘My car, my rules’, I know.”

“You can listen to whatever you want to once you're in your own room.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Would it kill you to be pleasant?”

“This is pleasant.”

“Then just be quiet, okay?”

“Fine. How long before we get there?”

“About five hours,” Amelia said. “Depending on traffic.”

“Great.”

“Would you hurt me if I asked ‘are we there yet’?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then I won’t. So how long is it going to take to fix up this house?”

Amelia smiled at the thought of her new home. It was as far from the extravagant house in New York as she could get . . . and it was actually hers. Not her mother’s, not hers and Alex’s, but hers. “A couple of months, at least. It’s a little run down, but wait until you see it. And the land is just gorgeous. You could almost go camping on the front lawn. A river goes through the property, too--”

“Cue the dueling banjos.”

“Deliverance was not set in Vermont.”

“So? Psychos can’t move?”

“It’s not even a real-- never mind. Didn’t I tell you to bring a book?”

“I can’t read in the car, remember? I start feeling sick. Though if you want me to puke on you, go ahead and hand me a magazine.” Then she looked at the small clock and groaned. “I can’t believe you’re moving this far away.”

“And I can’t believe I didn’t do it sooner. You’ll understand once you see the place.”

“Mom said it was a ‘fixer-upper’. I know what that means. It means ‘decrepit wreck with 49 million spiders’.”

“I brought bug spray; don’t worry.”

“If I find even one bug in my bed, I’m catching the next bus home.”

“There aren’t any buses that stop near the house.”

“What?”

“This is the nearest town, and it's about fifteen minutes away. Nearest bus stop is--”

“Whoa, wait a minute. That was the ‘town’?”

“Yeah.”

“No no no. That wasn’t a town. That was ‘grocery store, library, post office, three houses’.”

“It’s charming.”

“Oh my god, you’ve gone insane. Let me out.”

“Quit being melodramatic.”

“I’m not. I’m serious. If that’s your ‘charming’ town, I don't want to see the house.”

“It’s really nice, Lucy.”

“Your definition of ‘really nice’ and mine are different. Will I like it?”

“I don’t know. I want you to. I love the place.”

“Well, you loved Alex, too, and we know how that turned out.”

Amelia didn’t respond to that, and Lucy looked out the window for a few moments, staring at the trees. Amelia hadn’t rolled the windows down now that they were off the highway, choosing instead to keep the car closed up and the air conditioner on. The cold air seemed to drape over her bare lower legs, making her shiver. Finally, she spoke again. “Sorry.”

“Yeah.”

Lucy sat in the car, watching as her sister got out and nearly ran to the wreck as one might normally go to a long-lost lover. She continued to watch as the movers transported the boxes from the trucks to the house. Watched as they drove away, leaving them alone.

She reluctantly opened the door as Amelia emerged from the house again. Her sister already knew that something was wrong. She’d been putting up a front for the movers, but now she was frowning as she walked toward the car.

Here comes another lecture, Lucy thought.

How could Amelia find something likable about this thing? she wondered, staring at the house. It was two stories tall, and drab, with broken windows and peeling paint. Rats probably held weekly poker games in the basement.

“So,” Amelia asked, stopping beside her and also turning to look at the house. “What do you think?”

“Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”

“Oh, shut up!”

Her sister turned and stalked toward her new home, and Lucy grinned. “What?”

Then she considered the fact that it wasn’t just ‘her’ new home, but their new home, and the grin faded.

Amelia stopped in the doorway. “How about you at least come in and look around before you start with the comments?”

Lucy followed her sister inside, and for a moment could only stare. She was amazed that the boxes of their possessions hadn’t turned gray and dingy simply to fit in. A layer of dust seemed to coat everything in sight; out of the first three steps she took into the house, two of them creaked; and the fading sunlight was the only light in the room.

She focused on the latter fact first. “Don’t tell me we’re gonna have to rewire this place.”

“I called in an electrician already. We should have power.” She went to the nearest light switch and flipped it. A light came on, illuminating the dust and grime further. “Yes! In business.”

She's definitely gone insane, Lucy thought. “Don’t get too excited. This is still a house the Addams family would’ve turned down.”

“Can’t you just say something nice? For once?”

“Sure. Hi, house! You provide a very comfortable home for mice, I’m sure. Especially in the basement. Which I am not going into, by the way,” she said, casting a derisive look at the stairs at the other end of the room.

“Fine. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll clean the living room, and then we’ll go to bed. In the morning we can start on the rest of the house. Depending on when we get that done, we can relocate some furniture.”

“When we get that done? We’re still going to be cleaning when fall gets here.”

“It’s not going to be that bad,” Amelia said. “Come on, I want you to see the upstairs.”

Lucy followed her, looking warily at her feet as the steps groaned underneath her weight. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Yes.” She didn’t say anything else until they reached a room at the end of a long hallway. Amelia stepped into it and turned on the light, smiling. “See? This is one of the things that just sold me on the house.” She walked over to the bay window and looked outside, smiling.

“Sis, you’d sit down there and fall through to the basement.”

“Well, it’s a little weak in places, but it’ll be fine after we repair it.”

“This from the person who hated arts and crafts because she was afraid she’d burn herself with the hot glue gun?”

“I bought a bunch of home repair manuals and some tools; we’ll do fine. But we don’t have to worry about that for a little while yet. Come on, let’s go back downstairs and start dusting.”

“Exactly what I want to be doing on a Friday night.”

Amelia ignored that, and just hurried down the steps. “Okay, I marked all the boxes-- help me find the one that says ‘cleaning supplies’.”

“Fine. Where are we going to sleep, by the way? The beds are in 59 different pieces.”

“They won’t take that long to set up.”

“Right. Here’s the box.”

“Good. Bring it back here,” Amelia said, walking through one of the two doors at the back of the front room. “We can use this as a bedroom until we get the whole house clean. Wait’ll you see the rest of the rooms. And you can have your choice of bedrooms; there are five more to pick from.”

“You’re talking like this’ll be the first time I’ve had my own room.”

Amelia was silent for a moment, and then she went out to the front room and got her CD player. A moment later Styx’s “Babe” started playing, and Lucy held back a scream of frustration as she started sweeping the floor.

All in all, she would’ve preferred the sitcom-sister chatting.

“Have I mentioned that mom was really, really, really smart to hire a maid?”

“I’m not hiring a maid,” Amelia said, as she flopped down onto her newly set up bed.

“I’ll help pay for one. Seriously. Just so long as I never have to touch another dustrag.” Or smell any more of that nasty air freshener that Amelia had insisted on spritzing around. She had no idea why most people thought that ‘clean’ meant, ‘imitating the scent of twenty dozen bouquets all crushed together’.

She decided it was best not to say anything else about that, though. Amelia hadn’t thought that her pantomimed gagging was amusing earlier.

“Cleaning’s not my favorite thing either,” Amelia answered. “But it’s not going to take forever.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said, yawning as she sat down on her bed and took off her shoes. Then she changed into her nightgown and crawled under the covers, pulling them almost completely over her head. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Amelia said, reaching up and turning off the light.

“Amelia?” Lucy asked a moment later.

“What?”

“Are you sure there aren’t mutant spiders in here?”

Amelia laughed wearily. “Go to sleep.”

“Okay. But if something carries us off to its lair, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Lucy opened up the freezer. “Hey. We don’t have any ice cream?”

“Of course we don’t have any ice cream. I only brought the basics, remember?”

“Ice cream is a basic. I'm going to the store.”

“You are not wasting gas money going to get ice cream.”

“I’ll get more than that,” Lucy said, going through the cupboards. “Because you brought a bunch of non-perishables, but no chocolate. That's just wrong.”

“Fine,” Amelia said, getting a piece of paper. “I’ll make out a list and you can do the shopping.”

“No problem. It’ll keep me out of Hell House for a while.”

“And it’ll keep me from having to hear your nasty comments for a while,” Amelia said, continuing to write, “so I guess we’re even.” After a few moments, she handed her the list. “I'll see you when you get back.” Then she watched her sister start towards the door and bit her lip, wondering if the question she was thinking about really needed to be voiced. Surely it was something that Lucy already knew, but-- “And, Lucy?” she said, as her sister’s hand touched the doorknob.

“What?”

“Don’t . . . don’t buy any alcohol, all right?”

The glare her younger sister gave her made Amelia wonder if maybe she should’ve stayed silent after all. But since the question was already asked, she reluctantly pressed on. “All right?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. I’ll see you later.”

The door slammed, and Amelia winced.

Lucy stared at the horn for a few seconds as she started the car, wondering if her sister would understand some choice words tapped out in Morse code.

Finally, she just drove off, cursing under her breath.

One mistake, she thought bitterly. She made one mistake and all of a sudden her mother and sister thought her future was to end up begging for whiskey money in a gutter.

She hadn’t even been that drunk. She’d only swerved around a little. Just her luck that some cop was out looking to fill his ticket quota that night.

And she’d tried to explain that. But no. Her mom had thought immediately of her ex-husband, and decided that she was cut from the same cloth-- she hadn’t even come to bail her out of jail that night, to ‘teach her a lesson’.

There’d been a time, right after the DUI sentence had been handed down and her mother had been threatening to cut her off, when she’d been certain that Nicole hated her. Now she knew that wasn’t the case. Her mother liked her; she just didn’t like her enough to want to be around her. Which left the boondocks.

I hate my life, Lucy thought again, and reached for her CD case.

She nearly screamed in frustration when she realized that all her CDs were back at the house. Well, she certainly wasn’t going back to get them. That place gave her the creeps.

For one thing, it was way too big for just two people. Their mother’s house had been enormous, too, but that had been for her, Amelia-- when she’d still lived there-- their father-- when he’d still lived there-- the maid, and any friends who happened to be in town.

There’d been so many friends to invite. Now? Now there wasn’t even a coffee shop nearby. When a new movie came out she was going to have to drive an hour to go see it, instead of walking two blocks. So much for meeting people for coffee, or going out on a date.

She sighed. When she’d been in New York, she’d flirted with several men and gone home with a few, but she’d never really thought about anything serious. Now, certain that there was nobody near her anymore, serious was the only thing on her mind.

She’d intended on getting married someday, settling down-- after she’d sown about a field and a half of wild oats-- but how was she supposed to follow through on any of her intentions here? Just because her sister had chosen to live in Purgatory, USA didn’t mean that she should have to.

She walked into the grocery store, and all thoughts about finding a cute clerk around her own age disappeared when she sight of the man behind the counter. Balding, stoop-shouldered, and the grin he gave her displayed at least three missing teeth.

Perfect, she thought. I cannot get a break.

She grabbed a basket and filled it with the items on the list-- as well as plenty of chips and ice cream-- and then walked up to the counter.

“Hello there,” the clerk said cheerfully. “My name’s Francis Dean, but people call me Frankie. You can call me that, or Mr. Dean, I don’t really mind. You the new girl around here? Amanda?”

“My sister’s name is Amelia. She’s the one who bought the house. I’m Lucy,” she said, remembering at the last second to smile.

“Well, very pleased to meet you, Lucy. You know, I was really surprised to hear that someone had bought that old thing. It’s gonna take a lot of work. But I suppose you already know that, don’t you?” He laughed at his own joke, and then continued. “Your sister might regret buying it, though.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Well . . .” He glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers, the annoying grin still on his face. “It’s haunted.”

Of course it is, Lucy thought, wondering how she could politely tell him to please stop babbling and just give her the total.

She knew she should feel bad for the thought-- the guy looked thrilled at the chance to tell his obviously well-worn stories to someone new-- but she didn't want to stand around here while he rattled on about Vermont urban legends.

Then she realized that she might be able to freak Amelia out if she got something juicy enough from this coot. “By what?”

“Not entirely sure. But there’ve been murders there.”

“Plural?” Oh, this was getting better and better.

“Yeah. They say--” He peered at her. “I better stop there,” he said, his voice full of teasing. “I wouldn’t want to frighten you.”

“Trust me, I don’t scare easily.”

“Well, they say that several years back, the man and woman who were living there butchered each other.”

“Were their names Jack and Wendy, by any chance?”

The grocer rolled his eyes. “If you think I’m making it up, go talk to Sophia. She knows a lot more about it. She housekeeps there.”

“That place had a housekeeper?” Lucy asked, wondering where in the world the woman had learned to dust. Obviously her idea of ‘cleaning’ had been, ‘just kill the cockroaches before they reach pony-size’.

“Well, she went up about once a month or so. Place’d been abandoned for years, but since it was still on the market it needed some upkeep. She made sure the cobwebs didn’t get too thick, and if there was a problem with the floors she called her cousin.”

“Why?” Lucy asked. “Goodness of her heart?”

“She knew the couple who killed each other there. They were friends.” He smiled. “See? If I was just telling stories, would I send you to someone who could verify everything?”

“You haven’t sent me anywhere yet,” Lucy said, putting a teasing note into her own voice now. “You just gave me a first name.”

“Sophia Kinman. She lives two doors down from this place, gray house with blue trim. Tell her Frankie sent you; she’ll let you in.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said. Like she was going to waste her time trying to talk to some friend of his who also got her jollies babbling about nonsense. She’d gotten more than enough to make Amelia freak out, and that was all that mattered.

“You're welcome,” he said, giving her the total. “And tell your sister to come in next time, too! I'd like to get to know both of you, since we're practically neighbors now.”

Neighbors, Lucy thought. Back home, she had no idea who lived on either side of her mom’s house, and she preferred it that way. But, she couldn’t exactly say that to him. “I will,” she said instead, picking up her bags.

“Good. Oh, speaking of neighbors, you'll probably be meeting Elizabeth soon.”

“Elizabeth?” Lucy asked, her interest perking slightly.

“Yeah. She doesn’t live too far from you. She’s a funny one.” That grin again. “Her real name’s not Elizabeth. Can’t remember what it actually was anymore, been so long since she used it, but she renamed herself after some Queen after her mom passed on. She doesn’t come to town too often anymore, but I’m sure she’ll stop by your house.”

Great. “Well, I’ll say hi to her for you.”

“I’m home!” Lucy called. “And wow, what do you know-- I’m not plastered!”

Amelia turned down her music. “I didn’t think you were going to be.”

“Well, you sure have a funny way of saying it. ‘Don’t buy any alcohol’ means ‘I don’t think you’ll be drinking’? Cool. I’ll remember that.” She took the bags into the kitchen, and continued as she and Amelia started to load the perishables into the fridge. “Oh, and sis? Just because we’re not in NYC doesn’t mean you should be blaring music when you’re alone in the house.”

“I’m fine.”

“You had the music turned up so loud I had to shout to be heard over it. The front door was unlocked. And somehow, I don’t think the 911 service here is too great.”

“We should’ve gotten you out of the city sooner,” Amelia joked. “You’re completely paranoid.”

“Me? One would think you’d be lecturing me about crap like this; you were the one who got mugged.”

Amelia shrugged as she finished putting the empty bags into one of the cupboards. “And I’m not going to let that control my life.”

“Lock the door next time, at least. I have a key. Or actually, maybe you should just come with me. That way I wouldn't have had to deal with the Grocer Fossil alone.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“True,” she said. “He did tell me a few things about the house.”

“Like what?”

“Like, it’s haunted.”

Amelia laughed. “Right.”

“No, seriously. He says that some couple murdered themselves here a few years back.”

“Mmmm-hm. And now they walk up and down the halls, moaning and rattling their chains?”

“You don’t believe me? Fine. Ask Sophia Kinman. She lives in town; she was a friend of theirs. She did housekeeping here once in a while.”

Amelia glanced over at her, new seriousness in her eyes. “The lady who sold me the house said that one of the locals helped tidy it up sometimes.”

“Never mentioned why, though, did she?”

“You’re not lying?”

“Would I lie about something like this?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m not. So you want to go talk to her?”

“Not really.”

“Afraid of what she'll say?”

“You know, I knew you read a lot of ghost stories, but I never thought you were stupid enough to believe them.”

“I don’t--” Then she sighed as Amelia raised her eyebrows at her.

“Exactly. You don’t. So you can stop trying to scare me.”

“Okay, fine. But seriously, what do you suppose happened?”

“I have no idea and I don’t want to know. You’ll find out nasty history about just any place, I imagine.”

“No, I distinctly recall our old house being murder-free.”

“Enough. Now come on; let’s go upstairs, and you can pick a room. I’ve gotten mine mostly clean, so we should be able to stay in our own rooms tomorrow night.”

About twenty minutes after Lucy had chosen a room, the phone rang.

Amelia smiled and quickly went to answer it. Their mother had insisted on calling them every other day, and had told them to call her immediately if anything went wrong. Hopefully, once she realized how well everything was going, she’d stop worrying so much.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Amelia. How’s everything going? Nothing got broken in the move, did it? And you’re sure the house is safe? If you want, I’ll send you some money so you can stay in a hotel while it’s being repaired--”

“Mom, we’re fine. We’re toughing it out,” she said lightly. “Right, Lucy?”

Lucy rolled her eyes.

“Lucy says right,” Amelia said. “Anyway, how’re you doing?”

“Honestly? Wishing you were home. I hope this’ll be the best thing for Lucy, but I don’t understand why you wanted to leave in the first place. It’s so beautiful here--”

“It’s beautiful here, too.”

“But there are so many things you’re not going to be able to do now. Honey, you haven’t missed the opening of a Broadway musical in ten years. You can’t tell me you want to give that up.”

“Of course I don’t want to. But I have my soundtracks, and we’ll be coming to visit. We can all catch a show then.”

“Oh god no,” Lucy muttered.

“What was that?” Nicole asked.

“Umm . . . she said she’d love to go.”

“You don’t need to lie to me. I’ll believe that you’re happy there, but how’s Lucy?”

“She’s-- well, why don’t you go ahead and talk to her?” Amelia asked.

“All right.”

“Okay. Talk to you soon, mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Amelia handed Lucy the phone, and then started to walk out of the room. She paused when her younger sister began to speak. The sarcastically chipper tone was familiar-- and so, unfortunately, were the biting words.

“Hi, mom! So, how’s your life now that I’m finally out of it? Better?”

“Stop that,” Nicole said. “I wish you were still here, but--”

“Come on. You complained about Amelia leaving. You wanted me gone.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Don’t ask me. You’re the one who raised me.”

“Goodbye, Lucy.”

“See ya!”

Lucy hung up the phone, and started to go into the kitchen to get a snack. As she walked by her, Amelia spoke.

“Why do you give her such a hard time?”

“Why not?”

“You think it’s easy raising a kid?”

“I wouldn’t know. And why would you? Oooh, wait a minute! You gearing up for some sordid confession? Have an illicit child somewhere I don’t know about?”

“Stop being silly.”

“You’re right. You’re not interesting enough for an illicit child. And if Alex wants anyone to pop out a baby for him, it’s definitely not you.”

“You are such a hateful little brat!”

“There you go,” Lucy said. “Let it out. Releasing anger is healthy; didn’t your therapist ever tell you that?”

Trying to convince herself that she hadn’t brought Lucy here so there wouldn’t be any witnesses around to see her bury the body, Amelia took a few deep breaths. “I’m not going to respond to this behavior. Goodnight.”

With that, she stalked into the temporary bedroom. Instead of going into the kitchen as she’d first planned, Lucy went upstairs, to the room she’d chosen as her own.

It was a bit smaller than the room she’d had at home, but she supposed it wasn’t that bad, really. The view was okay. She could see a bit of a path through the trees, and the river that Amelia had mentioned yesterday.

She glanced back towards the door, her eyes narrowing at the thought of her sister. It wasn’t fair that she’d dragged her here. She liked meeting people, going places, doing things, and having fun-- even if it wasn’t completely appropriate fun.

That little trait had nearly driven her teachers insane. At first, her mother had thought it was a phase. When it became plain that it wasn’t, she’d made a few jokes about how her daughter was destined to be a stand-up comic. But once she’d gotten enough phone calls, the jokes had stopped and the groundings had begun.

Lucy shrugged. None of that really mattered now. Her mother couldn’t ground her anymore, and--

Oh, who was she kidding? What was this but some massive, out-of-state grounding?

She looked back to the window, disturbed by how many stars she could see. If she was seeing lights in the sky, they should be artificial ones. Streetlamps and billboards and. . .

She wanted out of here.

“Somebody help,” she whispered, entirely unsure who she was addressing. After all, it wasn’t as if she attended church regularly-- or, for that matter, at all-- and she wasn’t about to go and try to have some heart-to-heart with Amelia about all this. “I don’t know what to do anymore and I . . . just, help.”

“Lucy. . .”

“Go. Away.”

“Come on, get up. The house isn’t going to clean itself.”

“You never know,” Lucy muttered, turning away from her sister as she pulled the blankets over her head. “Give it a chance.”

“Up,” Amelia laughed, grabbing the blankets and yanking them off the bed.

“I can sleep without blankets, genius,” Lucy said, closing her eyes again. She heard her sister walking away, and smiled. Then she realized something. “You’d better not be--”

Then she heard the freezer door being opened, and the telltale rattle of ice cubes being taken from the tray.

“Okay, okay, I’m up!” she said, vaulting out of bed.

“You sure?” Amelia called from the kitchen. “If you want to sleep longer, that’s no problem.” More rattling of ice cubes.

Lucy grumbled a curse and then walked into the kitchen. “That is blackmail.”

“True. You want some cereal?”

“Nah, I’ll just have some milk.”

“You don’t eat enough to keep a flea alive.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Junk food doesn’t count.”

“It does so. Hence the term ‘food’ in its name.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Yep. So where are we starting today?”

“There’s still a bit of work left to do with my room, and then we have to clean yours.”

“I’m not doing windows this time. That was traumatic.”

“I’ll do windows if you clean the ceiling fan.”

Remembering the pile of dust-- and who knew what else-- that had been on the fan in the living room, Lucy winced. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“There’s another kind?”

Nothing dead was found on top of the fan, though by the time they were done cleaning out the rooms, Lucy had begun to wish that she’d found some bird’s corpse, simply for the excuse it would’ve given her to quit working early. She wondered if Amelia would let her get away with heading to the grocery store again, and then decided that twice in two days would be pushing it.

“Okay,” she muttered, stepping into the hallway and leaning against the wall. “Now it’s definitely time to go back to sleep.”

“No,” Amelia said. “Now it’s time to move your bed and some other furniture up here.”

Lucy shook her head. “No way do you have that much energy.”

“It comes from eating actual meals.”

“Admit it. You’re on crack.”

Amelia laughed, and Lucy watched her sister hurry-- not walk, not plod, but hurry-- down the stairs, and she sighed. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. Unlike some crack addicts, I have to rest.”

“Five minutes!”

“Yeah,” Lucy muttered, going into a different room, one she hadn’t been in before.

Her sister obviously hadn’t gotten hold of it; it was still dirty.

She paced around, then looked back at the footprints she’d left in the dust. If she never swept or mopped another floor, it’d be too soon. But at the same time, she wanted everything to be done. Hopefully she’d find this place more tolerable once it was cleaned out and ready to live in.

No, she thought. Then there wouldn’t be anything to fill up her days, and she would die of Extreme Boredom Syndrome.

“Hey, Lucy! This bed is not going to move itself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she called back. “I know.”

Instead of going downstairs, however, she turned to look outside.

She wrinkled her nose at the sight in front of her. She couldn’t even make out any trees through the window. “Yuck,” she muttered. She turned back around-- and saw the man in the doorway.

She nearly screamed, and instinctively moved her hand to her hip, where her purse usually hung. She had Mace in there, but of course she wasn’t carrying her purse in the house. “Who are you?” she snapped.

“A neighbor,” he said. He looked surprised, though she couldn’t imagine why. He’d snuck up on her when he wasn’t even supposed to be in the house-- what had he done, come in yesterday while the door was unlocked?-- so he couldn’t be startled that she was angry.

“Well, neighbors usually knock.” Then she thought of an alternate explanation, one that she liked much better than some stranger-in-the-attic scenario. “Wait a minute. Did my sister send you up here to scare me?”

It was, after all, something Amelia would do. She was probably trying not to laugh herself into a coma right now.

“Excuse me,” she said, moving past the stranger into the hall. “I have to go kill her.”

He didn’t reply, just continued to stare at her. She didn’t turn away from him right away, just backed up until she reached the safety of the stairs. When she was about three steps down, Amelia came up to meet her.

“Did I hear you talking?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“To who?”

Lucy turned, started to say ‘him’, but the man wasn’t there anymore. And Amelia didn’t look like she was holding back laughter from a joke; she just looked annoyed.

“Hold on,” she said. “You mean you didn’t send our neighbor up here to give me a heart attack?”

“Look, I know you hate the house, but I’m putting almost my entire savings into fixing it up. So can you please lay off for just one minute and help me move the bed?”

Lucy shook her head. If Amelia hadn’t seen him, then that left her first explanation-- he was hiding in here. And she couldn’t think of a single benevolent explanation for that.

“Amy, I’m serious. There’s someone else in the house.”

“Don’t call me. . .” She trailed off when she saw the look on her little sister’s face. Lucy looked close to panicking. And despite her assertion yesterday that she wasn’t going to let the mugging control her life, she couldn’t help but think back to when she’d glanced behind her at the sound of someone’s voice and seen the streetlamp light reflecting off the blade of a knife. “Where was he?”

“Shouldn’t we be calling the police and then getting out of here or something?”

“Not until I find out what’s going on.”

“Amelia. Number one safety rule. When you find out that someone broke into your house, you do not investigate. You--”

“I asked, where was he?”

“Fine. He was right up here,” Lucy said, going back upstairs and pointing at the room’s doorway. “But after that I don’t know where he went.”

Amelia looked around, and then nodded once. “Nice try. But we haven’t cleaned the hallways yet.”

“What? What does that have to do with--”

“Only your footprints are there. You figure out the rest, Nancy Drew.”

“I’m not lying!”

As she headed back downstairs, Amelia nearly growled at her, nearly told her that bringing up a memory like that-- however inadvertently-- because of a joke was excessively inappropriate. But she didn’t want to argue with her sister, not again. Instead, she decided to humor her. “What did he look like?”

“Black hair,” she said. “Brown eyes. He looked like he was a few years older than you. He--” She cut off when she heard Amelia laugh quietly. “What?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome?”

She nearly cursed at her sister, and then she paused. “Well. . .”

“Hey, you haven’t been here long enough to start hallucinating about men. Wait a month; then go for it.” She winked. “Though, if they do continue-- send a few my way.”

Lucy surprised herself by actually laughing at the comment. “I’ll see what I can do.”

And Amelia was right, Lucy thought, as her sister got to the bottom of the stairs and then went into the other room. After all, hadn’t she been thinking just yesterday that she wanted to meet someone? She’d simply stared out the window-- or stared at the grime-- and started fantasizing, and she’d had some kind of waking-dream. Nothing to worry about.

She glanced back, confirming the story. Nobody there.

Exactly, brain, she thought. So while it was a nice-- very nice-- effort, no need for a repeat performance.

And then the man walked out of the room she’d been in a few moments before.

Lucy looked down. He wasn’t hovering off the floor, but neither was he leaving any footprints.

Looking up again, she saw that he was smiling at her. She didn’t wait for him to say anything. Instead, she just turned.

“Wait for me!” she cried, and then raced downstairs after her sister, for once not even thinking about the possibility of her foot going through a particularly creaky step.

Either she’d had two detailed hallucinations in less than five minutes, or her sister’s dream home honestly was haunted.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked, as she and Amelia picked up a dresser and started to carry it upstairs.

“Do what?”

“Sleep in separate rooms. Maybe we should just stay where we are, you know? I mean, it reminds me of camp.”

“Exactly,” Amelia said. “One of these days I’m going to ask to have those memories wiped from my brain.”

Lucy laughed. “Okay, camp was kindof annoying, but--”

“Pit toilets are unnatural in this day and age, and should not exist.”

“Definitely agreed. But still.”

“I know you’re worried about bugs. If you want, I’ll leave you the can of bug spray.”

“Thanks,” she said, giving up. After all, what was she supposed to say-- ‘go ahead and keep the bug spray, but please look up the number for the Ghostbusters’?

“No problem.”

Lucy didn’t answer; simply looked around warily as they reached the second story. No one was there.

She resisted the urge to curse at herself. She wanted to think she’d been imagining things this morning, but she couldn’t. And that was driving her crazy, because she knew ghosts weren’t real. Yes, she’d loved reading stories about them, even when she was young-- at ten, she’d snuck a copy of The Shining off the father of a friend’s bookshelf and read it-- but she’d always known they were fiction.

She’d never had night terrors, never imagined that some pointy-toothed thing was hiding under the bed ready to grab her when she got up to use the bathroom. She’d laughed at the other kids when they’d tried to tell her boogeyman stories.

So what was this? Everything finally catching up to her?

Normally, the chores and cleaning seemed to take forever. But to Lucy, the rest of the day went by far too quickly. Then her sister was announcing that she was going to call it a night.

She wanted to talk her out of it, wanted to suggest that they watch a movie or talk for a while or even play a board game, but such things were far from their routine, and so she couldn’t rely on them now.

Instead, she simply said goodnight, got ready for bed, and then very reluctantly went into her new room.

She wanted to be happy when she saw no one else in there, but she held off on that emotion until she’d checked under the bed and in the closet, feeling like an absolute idiot as she did so. Small children did that, she told herself as she shut the door. Or rather, they had their parents do it for them.

Then, even though the room was searched, she found that she couldn’t make herself turn off the light.

“You are such a moron,” she muttered, trying to tell herself for the millionth time that day that she’d just had some kind of dust-allergy hallucination.

She didn’t believe it, and as she got into bed she resigned herself to sleeping with the light on tonight. And maybe for the next several nights, too.

The next time she went into town, she’d ask the grocer if there was anyone else living nearby. Maybe the black-haired man had been telling the truth; maybe he was a neighbor-- Mr. Dean was old, it was perfectly reasonable that he might’ve forgotten to mention somebody.

And was it also perfectly reasonable to walk on a thick layer of dust without leaving footprints?

“Just go to sleep,” she said, but didn’t follow her own instructions right away. She ended up pacing around the room for two hours before she finally lay back down and closed her eyes.

When Lucy woke up, she didn’t automatically think about the strange events of the day before, until she looked across the room and saw the man standing near the doorway.

She took a deep breath, preparing to let out a shriek of epic proportions.

The man quickly held up his hands. “Don’t do that, please.”

Normally she wouldn’t have even considered listening, but she remembered all the unanswered questions, and settled for glaring at him. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I was waiting for you to wake up.”

“In the room?” she asked, getting out of bed. She might not be yelling for help-- yet-- but she definitely didn’t want to get her feet tangled in the sheets if it turned out she needed to run. “You could’ve waited out in the hall. On the Creepy Scale, watching someone you don’t know sleep rates an 8.”

“I apologize. It’s just . . . been a long time since I’ve spoken with anyone here.”

She watched him warily. She couldn’t see through him-- she’d always thought that ghosts were transparent-- but it wasn’t as if she’d actually seen one before, either. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Evan.”

“I’m Lucy,” she said. “And you are a ghost and not some kind of hallucination, right?”

“Right.”

“Great. So I’m supposed to take your word on that. This could be bad.” She sighed. “If I start going all Secret Window, Secret Garden over here, I’m gonna be so mad.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I suppose spirits don’t get a chance to read Stephen King, huh?”

“I can’t exactly open a book,” he said, reaching out and passing his hand through the door.

“Well, that’d explain the lack of footprints,” she said, sitting down on the bed. She supposed that she should be panicking, or asking a multitude of questions, or doing something else besides chatting with a ghost. But he didn’t seem like a ghost. Most of the ghosts she read about or saw in the movies were frightening things. Evan just looked like a normal man, even if his clothes were a few decades out of style. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“You called me.”

“What? No, I didn’t.” He nodded, and she rolled her eyes. “Look,” she said. “If I’d done some kind of magical incantation, I think I’d remember it.”

“It wasn’t an incantation. You asked for help.”

Her eyes widened. “The . . . the other night, in here?” He nodded again. “You heard me?”

“Not exactly. I knew you and your sister were here, I could hear and see a few things-- normally, we try to see your world and it’s like looking through a foggy piece of glass. Until we’re called. Then, we have to answer.”

“We?”

“Ghosts, demons, angels-- the things that can be called by an undirected cry for help.”

“Well, glad I didn’t conjure Cthulu,” Lucy said. “Anyway. You were watching us before I called you? Why?”

“This house used to be mine.”

“Wait a minute. This isn’t some vengeful-spirit thing, is it?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hear you complaining when Amelia decides to paint the bathrooms pink or something.”

He smiled. “I have a feeling you’ll do enough complaining for the both of us.”

Yeah, they could definitely get along, Lucy thought, smiling back at him. She started to say something else, but then she heard a terrified scream.

“Amelia?” she yelled, running to the door and throwing it open. Evan, meanwhile, ran straight through the wall, keeping up with her as she raced toward the attic. She wondered what exactly he was going to do in the event of a problem-- it wasn’t as if he could pick up the phone and call for help, and his presence would probably just freak Amelia out-- but she didn’t have time for questions.

She heard another shriek, a shorter one this time, and then Amelia ran right into her, practically knocking her down.

“Hey!” Lucy said. “What is going on?” Then she realized that her sister’s arm was bleeding. “Are you okay?”

“No! I am not okay! I went to the attic to look around and see how many more cleaning supplies I’d have to buy for up there and I was stepping on things and I thought they were little rocks but they were spiders and then one fell in my hair and I ran into the wall and there’s a splinter in my arm and I hate sharp things and as soon as I get out of the shower I’m emptying the entire can of bug spray up there. You hear me?” she said, looking towards the attic stairs. “You have about an hour to live! Freakish little insects.”

Lucy grinned. “Actually, they’re arachnids.”

“Do not make me kill you.”

Then Amelia hurried down the hallway, muttering, her hands straying to her hair every few seconds, brushing at it quickly.

Lucy laughed quietly, and then turned to Evan. “That was Amelia.”

“So I see.”

“And speaking of ‘seeing’-- why didn’t she see you? I know my sister; no matter how bad she was freaking out, she would’ve said something if she’d realized you were there.” Her amusement gone, she crossed her arms. “I really am hallucinating, aren’t I?”

“No,” he said. “Some people can’t see us. Most can’t, actually. It was why you surprised me yesterday. I knew that you were the one who called me, so I wanted to see you-- I didn’t expect that you would see me back.”

“That’s got to be weird,” Lucy said, heading off down the hallway. “Living where nobody can see you. You can at least talk to other ghosts, though, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Sometimes.”

“And on that happy note,” Lucy said, “it’s time to annoy Amelia.” She knocked on the door to the second-floor bathroom. “Don’t use up all the hot water!”

“Bite me.”

With a laugh, Lucy walked away, heading for the kitchen.

Half an hour later, Amelia came downstairs, holding one towel in place around her body as she rubbed at her hair with a smaller towel. “Hey, have you had breakfast-- oh, you’re kidding me. Put down the candy bar.”

“What? It’s never too early for chocolate.”

“You need therapy.”

“And you need clothes. Unless you’re planning on dusting in that.”

“Of course not. But, I’m starving,” she said, draping the smaller towel over the back of a chair and opening a box of cereal. “And besides, I’m taking a break.”

Lucy gaped at her. “You’re kidding. The Energizer Bunny is resting?”

“Only until noon. Then we’re tackling the rest of the first floor.”

“Sadist.”

“Yep.”

Lucy fidgeted, and glanced quickly over at Evan as she wondered if she should mention him again. After all, her sister’s modesty level went far past the ‘normal’ range into ‘abysmally uptight’, and if she knew there was a guy in the room-- ghost notwithstanding-- she wouldn’t be wandering around in a towel. “Umm . . . Amelia? I was thinking about yesterday and, well, what would you say if I told you that I think I saw a ghost?”

“Uhhh-huh. And on Halloween are you going to be sitting outside waiting for the Great Pumpkin?”

Lucy wanted to protest, wanted to point at Evan and say, ‘hello, he is right there’, but she refrained. Giving up, for now, she simply set down her candy bar and walked out of the kitchen.

Evan followed her, looking around as they went back up to her bedroom. “I haven’t truly seen my home in decades. Not since the last call that brought me here.”

“It’s gotten a lot dirtier in the meantime, I take it?”

“Yes. It shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. I remember helping to decorate this place. Rearranging the furniture.” He smiled. “Rebecca would’ve fainted to see it like this.”

“Rebecca?”

“She was the one who liked to keep things tidy. But now I almost wish I could clean something. The house doesn’t seem right this way.”

“I wish you could clean something, too,” Lucy said, telling herself not to push him for more information about this ‘Rebecca’-- yet. “That way I wouldn’t have to do it.”

“At least it’ll be a home again,” he said. “Once you’re unpacked.”

“Several years from now.”

Then a loud noise made both of them jump, and Lucy groaned. “Great. More music.”

She watched as Evan walked toward the sound, curious, and she hurried after him. “Trust me, you don’t want to get any closer to that than you have to. And--”

She sighed, because he was already through the door to Amelia’s room. Since it was cracked open, she peered inside. Maybe the inability to see ghosts was temporary, after all, and if Amelia’s vision suddenly clicked into place, she definitely wanted to be around for it.

Nothing so interesting was happening, though. Amelia was sitting on the bed-- dressed now, fortunately-- and Evan was inspecting the CD player like he’d never seen anything like it before.

Probably because he hadn’t, Lucy realized, wondering exactly what year he’d died.

Then Evan turned his attention to her sister, and Lucy nearly groaned as she realized that Amelia was looking through her shoebox full of pictures.

She wouldn’t mind the habit if the pictures were anything good. Instead, there were just pictures of Amelia and Alex.

She knew because she’d eavesdropped on a conversation that Amelia and their mother had been having. Her mother had told her that she should try to put that part of her life behind her. Amelia had made some excuses, but obviously she hadn’t meant a word of her ‘I’ll get rid of the pictures soon’ spiel.

When her sister finally put the box of photos back onto the top shelf of her closet, Lucy decided that enough was enough and threw open the door.

“Hey,” she said. “What are the chances of being able to order pizza?”

“I don’t think they deliver out here.”

Instead of complaining, she shrugged. After all, she was craving pizza and not being able to have any was annoying, but at least she had someone to talk to now besides her sister, who was obviously in full-on nostalgia mode.

“You’re listening to the Titanic soundtrack again?”

“Hush; I loved that show.”

“I could tell. I seem to remember your going to see it nine hundred times.”

Amelia smiled. “It wasn’t that many.”

“True. Eight hundred and fifty.”

“Ten, at the most. You really should’ve gone with me; I think you would’ve liked it. Remember when we went to go see Karina’s show?”

“Karina was onstage for two minutes, and she played a model. It was hardly an acting stretch. Now please, turn that down. I can feel my brain shrinking.”

“If you’d give musicals a chance--”

“I have. I just never got the whole spontaneously-bursting-into-song thing. It’s annoying.”

“But--”

“Yes, even in Moulin Rouge.”

“That is blasphemy, sis.”

“The truth is never blasphemous.”

“Well, now that you’ve reminded me of it. . .” Amelia said, giving her sister an evil little smile, “want to watch it with me?”

“No, no, and no. I would rather--” She paused as she heard the phone ring, and nearly vaulted toward the door. “Rescue!”

Amelia winced as she stood up. She hadn’t wanted Lucy to reach the phone first.

By the time she got there, Lucy was saying goodbye and cheerfully handing the phone to her. “She doesn’t want to talk to me. I'm shocked, aren't you?”

“Hi, mom,” Amelia said.

“You know, I promised her that if she went with you, I wouldn’t cut her off, but I’m seriously considering doing so anyway.”

“Now, mom--”

“Don’t ‘now mom’ me. You have no idea what it’s like to try so hard to be a good mother and then-- then have your own child hate you.”

“Did she say that?”

“No, but she doesn’t have to. I hear it in her voice, when she was home I saw it every time she looked at me.”

“Things’ll be fine. I think we just need some time, that’s all.”

Nicole let out a tiny sound that might’ve been a laugh, or might’ve been the beginning of a sob. “Sure. I’ll talk to you later. Just wanted to check up.”

“I know. Bye, mom.”

Amelia hung up the phone, and then turned to her younger sister.

“Let me guess,” Lucy said. “Lecture time.” She wanted to say something to Evan, but knew she couldn’t-- and it was difficult to remember not to even look over at him when Amelia was around.

“No,” Amelia said. “I’m not in the mood right now. Besides, we need to get back to work.”

“I’d prefer the lecture,” Lucy said. Then she glanced at the phone, an old worry coming into her mind again. “Do . . . do you think it’s a mistake that we’re here?”

“What?”

“I mean, mom and dad are seriously messed up. Maybe they never should’ve had kids.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Hey, c’mon. No one else is around to hear you and think you’re a horrible daughter because of it.” Which wasn’t technically true, but since Amelia couldn’t see Evan, it’d have to do. “You have to have thought it sometime.”

“Lucy. . .”

Irritated by the tone in her sister’s voice, Lucy did glance around for Evan-- and was startled to see that he wasn’t there anymore. She wondered where he’d gone, and then focused her attention on Amelia again. Obviously, she’d been stupid in thinking that her sister might actually talk to her for once instead of handing down platitudes like she did to Nicole. “Never mind. I’ll go get the broom.”

Lucy didn’t see Evan again until that night, when she opened the door to her room. “Hey,” she said. “Why’d you leave earlier?”

“That conversation wasn’t my business.”

“You’re a ghost. Who cares? It’s not like you’re going to run to the tabloids.”

“That isn’t the point.”

Great, Lucy thought. If he turned out to be some self-righteous twit like Amelia or her mom. . . “Okay, so you don’t want to listen in. Fine. Will you at least listen, or is that against the Ghost Ethics Code, too?”

“Of course I’ll listen,” he said. “You’re actually talking to me, not saying things when you don’t know I can hear you.”

“I get the point. If all you’re going to do is jump down my throat, then go away.”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I’m bound to this place until my job’s finished.”

“And that’s helping me?” she asked, remembering her request. “Best way you can do that is by transporting me back to New York.”

“Not one of the things I can do.”

“Didn’t think so.” She sighed. She’d come up here intending to rant about her sister and her mother for a while, but now she didn’t even feel like talking about anything. She just wanted to sleep. “Look, tomorrow I’ll try to tell Amelia about you again. Maybe if I convince her to believe me, then she’ll be able to see you. Or she’ll at least listen to me when I tell her that you’re in the room. Okay?”

“Thank you.”

Despite her promise to try to talk to Amelia again, Lucy didn’t really have a conversation with her sister until they were both ready to go to bed.

“. . . so tomorrow we’ll finish cleaning the rest of this floor. Okay?”

“I still think you’re being too ambitious, but fine.” Amelia started to head off toward her bedroom, and Lucy glanced over at Evan, who was standing beside her, an expectant look on his face. She reluctantly called out. “Hey, Amelia?”

“What?”

“What I said yesterday, about the ghost? I meant it.”

Amelia crossed her arms. “Kid, this is getting old.”

“I’m not joking around,” Lucy said, trying to keep her voice even. She was only seven years younger than Amelia, and in the grand scheme of things, seven years wasn’t very long at all. She hated it when her sister called her ‘kid’. “He’s here now.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s standing right next to me! Can’t you see him?”

“No, I can’t, because there’s nothing there. It was a cute joke at first, but it’s time to stop it.”

“Maybe you should leave it alone,” Evan said. “She’s not--”

Lucy barely heard him. “I already told you, it isn’t a joke! Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because you’re a pathological liar! Remember when you told mom that you found the twenty on the sidewalk, when you really took it out of her purse? Or the time you told us you were going to spend the night at Jenna’s, but the next week you slipped up and said you’d actually gone to Matt’s? Or-- oh, I don’t even know which ones to pick! You even lie when you’re not covering something up!”

“You forgot one,” Lucy said. “How about the time I told you that your Perfect Husband hit on me because he said you were no good in the sack? Oh, no, wait. That time I was telling the truth.”

Amelia stared at her for a few seconds, the beginnings of a 'that didn't hurt at all' smirk on her face, but the expression died before it had even really begun. She quickly turned and hurried to her room.

Lucy turned to Evan. “Well. At least you didn’t float away that time.”

“I don’t think there was anywhere in the house I could’ve gone where I wouldn’t have heard you,” he muttered. “So you can’t even go outside?”

“For a short distance,” he admitted.

“Ha. So you were curious.”

“No,” he said, but she could tell that he was lying again. She wasn’t sure why he’d even bother with the lie. After all, if she’d been out of contact with this realm for decades, she’d jump at the chance for some gossip. No point in hiding that.

“My sister and Alex got married when I was fifteen. I never liked him. Didn’t say so in front of him-- I knew that’d get my allowance taken away for a year-- but I said so a lot in front of mom and Amelia. Then at last year’s New Year’s Eve party, I go into one of the empty bedrooms to get away from the crowd for a minute. And Alex follows me, starts talking about how he likes how I’ve grown up and men have ‘certain needs’ and a whole lot of other crap. I walked out, and the next day I told Amelia. She said she didn’t believe me, but obviously that was a lie, because she filed for divorce.” She smiled bitterly. “Of course, I heard this from mom, because after that day Amelia didn’t talk to me for five months.”

Evan didn’t react or even look at her as she explained. Once she was finished, he spoke quietly. “Do you want me to go see if she’s all right?”

“She’s fine. And if she is upset, she’s probably just stabbing some little voodoo doll of me.” Then she yawned and shook her head. “I’m going to bed. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Amelia sighed and leaned against the door. She didn’t want to remember that evening, that conversation.

When she’d gotten off work, Lucy had been there. Alex, fortunately, hadn’t been-- he’d been having dinner with a client. She’d dismissed what her sister had to tell her, said some things that had prevented them from speaking for months-- even though Lucy had been proven right.

After Lucy had left, she’d paced around the house, trying to keep her mind as confident in its denials as her voice had been. But hadn’t there been many-- almost too many-- female ‘friends’ that he’d had meetings or lunches with? One too many late nights at the office, including tonight? And hadn’t a lady called three weeks ago, only to hang up when she'd answered? Would she have stayed on the line if Alex had picked up instead?

Unable to let go of the doubts, she’d repeated Lucy’s story to her husband as soon as he’d gotten home.

Alex had denied it, but she hadn’t been able to miss the panic in his eyes. That night, for the first time in their marriage, they’d slept in separate bedrooms. And the next day, she’d told him that she wanted a divorce.

He’d tried to make excuses, to apologize. She hadn’t listened.

After he was gone, she’d called Karina Meadows. She’d known the other woman since grade school-- before she’d become a model, when her name had still been Karen Meeks.

Karina had immediately come over, and listened as Amelia’d tearfully given her the whole story. After offering a hug and some comforting words, the other woman had continued.

“Oh, hon, I really am sorry. He said something like that to me a couple of years ago; I told him that he was being an idiot and he never brought it up again. I thought for sure it was a one time thing, if I'd known--”

“You didn’t tell me?”

“Well, it . . . hey, Amy, I’m sorry, I just figured it wasn’t really my business.”

“You’re my friend! How can it be anything but your business?”

“I didn’t want to see you hurt. I had a decision to make, and--”

“And you made the wrong one.”

While she’d eventually talked to Lucy again, she hadn’t heard from Karina since that day, and hadn’t tried to call her. Sometimes she regretted that, other times she could only call up a bitter ‘good, and I’m glad she’s gone’.

Tonight, unfortunately, was one of the latter times.

She shivered then, and went to go close the window. She’d opened it earlier today to get some fresh air in here, but now the wind was chilly instead of pleasant.

She got into bed, and after she’d fallen asleep, she dreamed of a man with dark eyes.

He was in her room for just a short moment, standing in the doorway and watching her, and then he turned and walked right through the door, out into the hall.

She stayed with him, watching him as he walked down a path in the forest. She’d walked the path herself, but not this far. At the crossroads he turned left, and she remembered from looking out the windows that the lake was in this direction.

Soon enough they were there, and the man stopped a few feet away from the water. She moved to stand next to him, looking up at his face.

This was a beautiful place, she thought. The moonlight shining on the water, the quiet sound of the wind. She wanted to be able to actually touch the ground, to feel her bare feet sinking into the mud. She felt safe here, content. So why did he look like he hated to be here?

She tried to say something, but no sound came out of her mouth. Then he turned and walked away, and Amelia sat up in bed, puzzled.

She’d dreamed something. About being outside, and someone had been with her. But beyond that, she wasn’t sure.

She shrugged, dismissing the puzzled feeling, and then she lay back down.

In the morning, Lucy didn’t go to the kitchen for breakfast. She just got dressed, and then went downstairs and outside, meeting Evan on the front porch.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hello. No housework today?”

“Not for me, no,” she said, turning towards the woods. Then the bushes nearby rustled, and she froze. Before she could turn and run, though, the culprit came out-- a young Labrador mix. Lucy smiled. She’d always liked dogs. And since this one wasn’t snarling. . . . She crouched down. “Here, boy!” Or girl, she silently amended.

The dog barked once and then ran over to her, rolling over so she could pet its tummy. Lucy smiled and obliged, and then watched as the dog got up and then rose onto its hind legs, trying to greet Evan. The dog, of course, fell straight through him, and then jumped away with a yelp. It looked to her again and whined.

Lucy continued to pet it as she looked up at Evan. “It can see you.”

He nodded. “All animals can. They don't have the same common sense as humans.”

“So you’re saying I can see you because I don’t have common sense?”

Evan grinned, and Lucy reached out and swatted at his leg. Even if he couldn’t feel it, it was the thought that counted.

“Actually, common sense isn’t the best term for it,” he said. “The second-guessing. The, ‘it’s probably nothing’. Animals don’t have that. They just see what’s there. It’s the same with most small children.”

“Oh. Know anything else about the ones who can see you?”

“They’re usually high-strung.”

“Thanks.”

“It comes from accepting too many possibilities. You’re alone in the house. You hear a noise. Most people explain it as the wind; at the worst, a human burglar. The ‘seeing’ person has not only natural, but supernatural explanations to choose from.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. But I didn’t think ghosts were real until I started talking to you. I’d read a whole lot of novels, but. . .”

He nodded once. “Then the possibility was still there for you more than it would be for someone who hated the genre, correct?”

“Yeah, I guess. So if I’d been in a theater watching a horror movie when I ‘called’ you, a lot of people would’ve been able to see you?”

“That depends. Some of the others will go into theaters like that, just to see if anyone notices them, nods to them or makes a comment about the film as they leave.”

“I thought you said that it’s like looking through a foggy glass until you’re called. So how can. . .”

“Not all of us operate in the same way. It’s complicated.”

“Well, if they can see people without being called, why can’t you?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” he muttered.

Lucy started to ask something else, and then decided to leave it alone. After all, she really hadn’t known Evan that long. While he might not be able to leave, he could easily stop talking to her, and she didn’t want to risk that.

Amelia finished sweeping the last bedroom’s floor and then sighed, readjusting her ponytail.

She’d gotten up early to start working, hoping to use the physical labor to try and forget the words spoken last night.

It hadn’t worked.

She started to leave the room to get the window cleaning supplies, and then shook her head and sat down instead. She needed to rest for a minute.

Maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at Lucy. Yes, she’d lied before, and she was certainly lying now-- ghosts, for pity’s sake-- but maybe she shouldn’t have reacted like that.

Or maybe reacting like that had been exactly the thing to do. For so long their mother had let things slide, had kept giving out money, had made excuses. And things had just gotten worse, until it had finally come to this.

She didn’t know. The only thing she could do was hope that she and Nicole were doing the right thing--

That was when she tilted her head back, and all rational thought left her mind for an instant.

Then she realized that the baleful eyes were just paint, not anything real, and stood up to get a closer look at the drawing. It appeared to be some kind of animal’s head drawn inside the confines of an inverted pentagram. The top two points of the star seemed to consist of the animal’s horns-- a goat?

Her eyes narrowed. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been here when she’d last taken a walk around the house on the day of their arrival. And what was she supposed to believe, she wondered as she stalked upstairs to Lucy’s room, that a ghost had done it?

She threw open the door but, to her surprise, her sister wasn’t in bed. She started to call out, and then looked outside instead.

There she was, sitting out in front of the house like she didn’t have a care in the world, petting a stray dog.

Amelia shoved open the window. “Lucy Nicole Shaughnessy, you get in here this instant!”

Lucy glanced up at her, and for a few seconds debated about flipping her off. Then she just rolled her eyes and got to her feet. “Caught.”

“That didn’t sound like she was just annoyed,” Evan said, as he followed her toward the house. “She sounded furious.”

“She gets mad over stupid crap all the time. You’ll get used to it.”

Before he could say anything in reply, she stepped into the house, and found Amelia glaring at her.

“Get in here,” Amelia said. She led Lucy into the bedroom and pointed at the ceiling. “Care to explain that?”

Lucy looked up. “Why is Baphomet on our ceiling?”

“It really disturbs me that you know who that is.”

“Oh, so now you think I’m a Satanist, right? I had to do a book report senior year about five different religious symbols, and--”

“Senior year. In Ms. Alfred’s class. The lady who’s so by the book it’s scary. Yet she’d have a religion-based assignment in the classroom?”

“Fine. There wasn’t a book report. I just picked it up. TV and stuff.”

“Then why didn’t you just say-- oh, never mind. I asked what it’s doing there.”

“How should I . . . hold on. You think I did this?”

“Well, who am I supposed to think did it? Your ghost friend?”

“No! Maybe somebody came in on one of the times you left the door unlocked; ever think about that? Oh no. It’s much easier to blame me. I don’t know who did it, but have fun cleaning it up.”

With that, she turned and left the room, and Amelia sighed and looked up at the drawing again. Maybe Lucy was telling the truth this time, and someone else had done it. Brought the ladder in here while she was in a different room, listening to her music.

But who, and why? Lucy had an actual motive-- trying to freak her out just for the fun of it, or to make her admit the existence of the ghost she kept bringing up-- and she’d had plenty of time to do it.

Well, whoever had put it there, it needed to be done away with. Hopefully soap and water would take care of it. Otherwise, she’d have to get started on painting much earlier than she’d intended.

“That idiot,” Lucy said, slamming the door to her room. A moment later, Evan came through it and sat down next to her on the bed. “How could she think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have any idea who did do it? I mean, it’s not like you have to sleep or anything.”

“I don’t know,” he repeated.

“Could it be something else like you? Another ghost?” Then she shook her head. “No, couldn’t be. If a ghost had made that, Amelia wouldn’t be able to see it.”

“Yes, she would.”

“Huh?”

“If the ghost was one that could touch things in your world. Then the drawing wouldn’t be made with anything supernatural-- just a marker, or normal paint. So she’d see it.”

“Why would a ghost do that, though? I mean, I could understand some vandal coming in and trying to freak us out, but--”

“Possibly as a warning. Or just a strange hello.”

“A very strange one,” she muttered, as she flopped back onto the bed. “And just in case it was a warning. . .” She got up and went to the box that had her books in it. There was sure to be something in there that’d help.

Amelia finally stopped trying to clean off the drawing-- she was going to have to paint after all-- and got down off the ladder. She stretched and then headed to the phone. She needed to talk for a little while, and Lucy wouldn’t be in the mood for a chat.

“Hello?”

“Hey, mom.”

“Hello, dear. Everything all right?”

Amelia started to lie, and then she simply shook her head. “No.”

“What happened? Lucy causing problems?”

“I don’t know. I . . .” She started to talk about the drawing, but what was she supposed to say? ‘By the way, I found some kind of Satanic symbol on the ceiling. But don’t worry, I still believe it was a good idea to come out here and you shouldn’t worry at all.’ Yeah. “I’m just having an off day,” she said, forcing some cheerfulness into her voice. “Nothing that a movie and a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

“I hope so. You haven’t been working too hard, have you?” Then Nicole laughed. “Why am I even asking; look who I’m talking to. Anything in particular happen?”

“Not really. Had a few disagreements with Lucy.” She couldn’t mention the ghost, either. Then Nicole would probably insist on bringing her back to New York to see a therapist or something.

Which, she realized, might be exactly what her little sister intended. Act strange for a little while, make her worried enough to talk to their mother, convince Nicole to bring her to the city again.

Or maybe she was after some entirely different goal. Such as driving her nuts. “I don’t know, mom. It’s just. . .” She tried to think of the exact words she wanted, and settled instead for a frustrated grumble.

“Honey, don’t get too upset with her. I know that’s ridiculous to hear, coming from me, but it’s just that you can’t let her get to you. She says things without thinking about them. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Sure sounds like she does.”

“I know. And I’m sorry; maybe it was a bad idea to send her with you.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just a little frustrated right now, is all. Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way. Not compromising with her. I mean, it’s not like she’s a child--”

“In a lot of ways, that’s exactly what she’s like,” Nicole countered.

“I think maybe I should take her into the city. Not back to New York, but just to the mall for a day or something. If I do that, then maybe she’ll be happier here.” And maybe she’d stop telling bizarre stories about ghosts.

“No, if you do that, then she’ll just learn how much she has to annoy you before you give in. I know it’s difficult, believe me, and I’m sorry I put you in this position--”

“You didn’t put me anywhere, mom. I agreed. Besides, it’ll be fine. And you’re probably right. We’ll stay where we are a while longer.”

“Good. I just worry about you out there, sweetheart.”

“I know. But it's okay, I’m not going to get eaten by a bear.”

“It’s not the bears I’m worried about so much as your sister.”

Though she knew what Nicole meant, Amelia smiled. “You think Lucy’s going to turn cannibalistic?”

Nicole laughed. “Of course not. It’s just that you haven’t spent as much time with her as I have.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about that, I should’ve--”

“No, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t let her see that guilt; if she does she’ll wrap you around her little finger.”

“Mom. . .”

“I’m not exaggerating. I don’t know how many times I put my foot down with her, only to let her borrow the car keys ten minutes later. Just trust me on this one.”

“Okay.”

“Good. And take a few days off, all right? It’s vacation country up there, so why don’t you--”

“--climb a mountain?”

“That’s hardly my idea of resting.”

“I will take a break soon. But I just want to get the house all cleaned up.”

“You could hire somebody for that.”

“So Lucy’s said. I want to do this myself,” Amelia said. Though, honestly, some help would be very much appreciated, she thought, glancing up toward her sister’s room.

“Still, if something gets too bad you just call me, all right? Any time, I don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”

“Okay, mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Amelia hung up the phone, and then went to gather the cleaning supplies. Now that the floors were done-- everywhere except the attic and the basement-- it was time to finish the windows. Then she could get started on the uppermost and lowermost parts of the house.

And if Lucy wanted to help, that was fine, she decided. If not, that was fine, too. This was her new home, after all-- she’d picked it out and planned for its renovation and decoration with only the thought of her sister visiting, not living here.

But not long after she’d picked it out, her sister had gotten the DUI. And then Nicole had called her, in tears, begging her to consider taking Lucy out of the city. What else could she have said?

Still, there were moments when she wished she had this place all to herself. She’d never had something like this before. She’d lived with her mother and sister until she’d gotten married, and then Alex had lived with her. For the months after the divorce, she’d had the house to herself, but that hadn’t counted. It had still seemed like Alex was everywhere.

When she’d realized that she had to sell that place and go somewhere else, at first her mother had understood. Then she’d let on that the ‘somewhere else’ meant Vermont or Maine, and a lot of the understanding had disappeared in a flood of worry.

Fortunately, she’d calmed down enough about it by now to take her doubts in stride, instead of using them as an excuse to try and get her to come back home. If she’d done that, Amelia wasn’t sure what she would have done-- she wouldn’t have gone, but she might very well have confessed about the drawing.

But that hadn’t happened, and it wasn’t going to happen. She’d just take Nicole’s advice, and take a break.

After today and tomorrow, once the house was clean. Then she and Lucy could spend some time away from the house, and hopefully they’d be able to get a few things cleared up. Assuming Lucy would even go anywhere with her.

Well, then she would apologize. After all, even if Lucy had done that drawing, she wouldn’t do something like it again after seeing that it hadn’t netted her the results she’d wanted.

Now, as for what they’d do. . .

She almost seriously considered her joke about climbing a mountain, and then dismissed it. While it did sound like fun, she didn’t want to do that and then still come home to an unfinished house.

That would be their reward once they were finished with the renovation. They would take a vacation, climb a mountain and maybe go to the beach.

She smiled at the thought, and then went back upstairs, looking out of one of the newly-cleaned windows. Her smile disappeared when she saw that Lucy was outside. The dog was once again trotting around her feet, and Amelia hoped that it didn’t have fleas. That was just about the last thing they needed.

Then her attention shifted as she saw that Lucy was sprinkling something on the lawn. And she was holding-- the salt shaker?

With a sigh, she went back downstairs again, and then outside. “What are you doing?” she asked, and then ignored her sister momentarily. “Down, dog,” she muttered. The animal finally obeyed, and Amelia looked back at Lucy.

“I’m putting salt around the house. It’s supposed to ward off evil entities.”

“And you say I’m on crack.”

“What? Despite your obvious opinion, I’m not the one who drew that thing.”

“Lucy--”

“Don’t even try,” she said, tossing down another handful of salt.

“Fine. Throw around all the salt you want to, but you get to replace it. And don’t try any ‘protection’ stuff that’ll damage the house.”

“Darn. Just when I was about to put some tar on the door.”

“Tar? What-- no. Never mind. And at least try to be in for dinner, all right?”

“Whatever.”

Unsure of whether she wanted to pull out her own hair or Lucy’s, Amelia turned and went back into the house.

“You know, I just read about this,” Lucy told Evan. “You really think it’ll work?”

“Depends. We don’t even know if we’re dealing with another spirit,” he said. “Whatever drew that symbol might’ve been human.”

“I’d rather it be a human, really. Then I can just lock the door.” She frowned. “Speaking of. . .”

She left the salt shaker on the ground and went up to the house, trying the front door. Open.

Lucy sighed loudly and then leaned inside. “Amelia!” she shouted. “Do you want a replay of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre in here? Lock the door!”

“You’re right outside!”

“So? It’s not like I was watching the entrance!” she replied, and then she shut the door and went back to her task.

Amelia went to the front door. “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre wasn’t even real,” she grumbled. But she did turn the lock.

“Hey, guess what? No work tomorrow. I’m planning a surprise.”

“Oh really,” Lucy said, grinning and resisting the impulse to look over at Evan. Maybe the ‘surprise’ was a trip to the nearest city. She was ready to go insane from the lack of shopping.

Then she wondered if Evan would be able to accompany them to wherever they were going. He’d been able to stay with her just fine outside the house, but she didn’t know how far he’d be able to travel.

Or had he meant that he needed to stay close to her for as long as he was here? In that case, it’d definitely be cool to go into a city. See how many people also knew that Evan was there.

“Any hints?” she asked Amelia.

“Nope. You’ll just have to wait and see. And before you try to stop me again, I really am sorry about yesterday. I was cleaning the room and then I looked up and saw that, and-- and it really freaked me out. I took it out on you.”

“No problem,” Lucy said, feeling benevolent now that the possibilities of Starbucks and clothes shopping and pizza were in front of her again.

“Anyway,” Amelia said. “I’m going to clean the basement. You want to help?”

Lucy nearly said ‘no way’, and then realized her chances of a trip to the nearest mall could be greatly improved here. “Okay, why not?”

“Great. I’ve got flashlights, dustrags, a--”

“Hold up. Flashlights? Tell me we have electricity down there.”

“We do. We’ve also got a burnt out light bulb.”

“Got a spare one?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go, then.”

“In a minute,” Amelia said, handing her a coat with a hood.

“What’s this for?”

“This way nothing will drop into your hair.”

“Good point,” Lucy said, putting on the coat.

Amelia went down the stairs first, and Lucy glanced back to see Evan following them down. She smiled, and gave him a little wave.

He waved back, and then laughed quietly. “Don’t worry,” he said. “There isn’t anything dangerous down there; I checked around this morning.”

She nodded in thanks, and then looked forward again. Her nervousness quickly returned.

Before she’d met Evan, a place like this wouldn’t have disturbed her. Nothing disturbing about it, after all-- just an old basement. But now she knew that ghosts actually existed, which left the door open on a whole lot of other things also existing. And every single horror movie she’d ever seen seemed to instantaneously play in her mind as she looked around the shadowy, dirty room. “Would you mind if I started humming the Halloween theme?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Amelia shook her head and then reached up to unscrew the dead light bulb. Just as she started to replace it, the doorbell rang.

“Can you go get that?”

“Sure,” Lucy said, glad of the chance to get out of the basement. From the looks of it, the place wouldn’t be any less creepy even when it was fully illuminated. She nearly ran up the stairs, and then looked out the small window in the door.

Her first thought was that the Queen in Snow White had come out of the fairy tale and moved to Vermont. Lucy opened the door, resisting the urge to make a face. She looked even worse without the window separating them. Her clothes were ragged, she smelled like she hadn’t taken a bath in over a month, and her face looked like an old, shrunken apple.

“Hello,” the woman croaked. “My name’s Elizabeth. I live just down the road. Saw that someone had finally moved in here again and knew I needed to meet you.”

“Who is it?” Amelia called from downstairs.

“Oh,” Elizabeth said. “There’s two of you?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “I’m Lucy, and my sister Amelia’s downstairs.” Then she raised her voice. “It’s a neighbor, Elizabeth!”

Amelia hurried upstairs and then went to the front door, taking off her coat. “Pleased to meet you.”

The old woman smiled and nodded, holding out the object in her hands, a foil-wrapped pie. “I made this for you.”

“Thank you,” Amelia said. “That’s very sweet.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, Amelia. It’s been so long since I’ve had any company. Years since anyone’s been in this house.”

“Well, come on in,” Amelia said. “We don’t have everything unpacked yet, but most of the house is cleaned up.”

“Thank you.”

Lucy moved out of the way as Amelia led Elizabeth into the kitchen. Once they were out of earshot, she leaned closer to Evan and spoke quietly. “Do you know her?”

“Yes. I’ll explain after she’s gone.”

Which, hopefully, would be soon, Lucy thought. If it had been up to her, she never would’ve been invited inside.

She reluctantly went into the kitchen, and saw Amelia putting the pie into the fridge. Elizabeth, meanwhile, was sitting at the table, talking.

“Yes, it’s been so many years since anyone lived here. Terrible thing.”

“It is,” Amelia said. “After all, this is such a beautiful house.”

Lucy started to roll her eyes, but instead looked to Elizabeth when the old woman spoke again.

“It is. Too bad beautiful things don’t happen here.”

“What are you talking about?” Amelia asked.

Elizabeth let out something that was supposed to be a laugh, but that sounded more like a rasping cough. “The people who sell houses never go into things like that, do they? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just that evil things are drawn to this area. It’s what happened to my family.”

Lucy gave Evan a ‘help me get rid of the crazy lady’ look, as Amelia sat down in the other chair at the table.

“I was the only one spared,” she said. “Because I learned how to live properly. My mother and father didn’t. Neither did my brother and sisters. One of my sisters was named Amelia,” she said, smiling again. “It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Amelia said. “I’m sorry about your family.”

“Thank you. It doesn’t hurt so much any more-- Clara was the last one to die, and that was twenty-nine years ago. I do miss having people around, though. Being alone makes things difficult. But I suppose there are advantages. I used to go into town, when it was much bigger than it is now, and people would avoid me. They even started spreading rumors that I was the one to kill my family. Imagine that?”

“Well, people do love to gossip.”

“You two seem very nice, though,” Elizabeth said. “Most people probably wouldn’t have let me in. The least I can do is return the favor. Anytime you’d like to come over to my house, feel free.”

“That’s very kind. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s easy to get there. Just follow that path in the woods, and when you get to the crossroads, turn right. The path goes straight through a little cemetery, and a little while past it is my house.”

“We can remember that,” Amelia said.

“All right,” Elizabeth said, carefully getting up. “I look forward to seeing you.”

“Is your house accessible from the road, by any chance?” Amelia asked, watching the woman near-limp back to the front door. “If so, I could drive you home.”

“No, it’s not. And I’ve been walking the woods near all my life; I’m used to it by now. But I’m glad of the offer. I’ll see you again soon, I hope.”

“You will,” Amelia promised. “Thanks again for the pie.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh, before you go,” Amelia said, once Elizabeth was back on the porch, “do you by any chance own a dog?”

“What does it look like?”

“It’s part Lab, has black fur?”

“No, I haven’t seen that one. But I do encounter strays once in a while. If I see him, I’ll tell you.”

“Okay. It’s not really that important, but I’ve seen him around the house lately and so I thought he might be yours. Bye, Elizabeth.”

“Goodbye.”

Amelia shut the door, and turned to Lucy. “Well, she seems nice.”

“Double, double, toil and trouble. . .”

“Cut it out.”

“What? You can’t tell me she didn’t freak you out.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“There’s such a thing as being too calm, you know.”

“And there’s definitely such a thing as being too flighty. Now come on. Let’s finish up the basement.”

“Before we do that, can we take a lunch break?”

“Sure,” Amelia said. “Want a sandwich?”

“Okay.”

Amelia made two sandwiches, and then sat down at the kitchen table. Lucy took her plate and moved to the doorway. “I’m going to eat in my room-- I’m almost done with my new Richard Laymon, so. . .”

“All right. I’ll start work once I’m done here; come down whenever you’re finished.”

“Got it,” Lucy said, hurrying upstairs. As soon as she shut her door behind her, she turned to Evan. “Okay, so what’s the story with the Wicked Witch of the West?”

“When she was born, her parents called her Emma, not Elizabeth.”

“Hold on. You were still alive when she was born?”

“Yes. She was a small child when I died.”

“Dang. How old is she?”

“Over a hundred. I think a hundred and six, or seven.”

“Have you ever spoken to her?” Lucy asked. “I mean, did she ever call for help?” After all, living out here alone for years-- that’d be a prime situation for it.

“No. And I’ve never spoken to her, but I have encountered her a time or two. You remember I told you that we can sense things about people? I don’t know exactly what, but . . . there’s something wrong with her.”

“Hm. ‘Wrong’, as in, ‘prone to break into people’s houses and draw weird things on their ceilings’?”

“Possibly.”

“Great. I’m not going over to her house, I don’t care what Amelia says.”

“That’d be for the best.”

“And I’m not eating that pie, either,” she said. “Even my addiction to junk food isn’t that strong.” And speaking of food . . . she sat down on her bed and started to eat her sandwich. “So did something ‘evil’ really kill her family?”

“I don’t know. It happened after I was already gone, and--”

“Yeah, can’t see things clearly. I remember.” Then she smiled. “I think I know somebody who might be able to answer me, though,” she said. Maybe the Grocer Fossil could prove to be something more than an annoyance, after all.

But she couldn’t head to the store right now. She needed to finish her sandwich and then go downstairs. And then, tomorrow. . .

She smiled again at the thought. “I bet we’re going to the city. Not all the way back to New York,” she said. Something like that would be a trip worthy of more than a day, and there was no way her sister would go back so soon, anyway. “But maybe Burlington. Anywhere that has an actual store. Ordering stuff from the internet just isn’t the same.”

“From where?”

“You really have been gone for a while,” she muttered. “Okay, let me explain.”

“Die, demon bugs,” Amelia muttered, using a flyswatter to hit a spider. Then she pulled her hood closer around her face. She was going to be so glad when the creepy-crawlies population of the house was down to ‘one or two, once in a while’, instead of ‘severely outnumbering the humans’.

Once she was done getting rid of the spiders that hadn’t been smart enough to flee, Amelia got the broom and dustpan and started to sweep the floor.

She’d probably be able to fill an entire trash can, she thought, dumping another dustpan full of dirt into the garbage. Then she got to the far right corner of the basement, and paused when her broom caught something other than dust.

Crouching down, she saw that the rectangular object stuck out slightly from the dirt now. Wishing she’d put on her gloves, she gingerly picked it up and brushed it off.

It was some kind of wood, with a small metal wire curved on the back of it. The back of a photo frame, she realized. She looked up, picturing how these walls must’ve once looked-- maybe there'd been a lot of photographs. And then when the house got cleaned out, one of them had been missed.

She hurried upstairs, wondering how old the photo was. After all, the basement was much dirtier than the rest of the house, as was the attic-- her guess was that the people who’d lived in here most recently had just left those two areas alone.

She got a damp paper towel and then tapped the front of the frame, hoping that she’d feel glass instead of paper. When she heard a telltale quiet clink, she grinned and carefully cleaned off the dirt.

It was an old photograph-- black and white, and neither of the subjects was smiling. The smaller figure was a woman, who looked to be around Lucy’s age. The other was a man and, though she knew it was ridiculous, it seemed like he was staring directly at her.

She wondered what their names were, what they’d been to each other. Husband and wife? Brother and sister?

If she had any writing talent at all, she’d probably type out a short story. As was, the only thing she could do was get a second opinion. “Lucy! Come see what I found!”

“I’m afraid to find out,” Lucy muttered, picking up her empty plate and then heading downstairs. She found her sister holding a grungy paper towel in one hand and an equally-grungy photo frame in the other, staring at the picture with a pleased smile on her face.

“Where’d you get that?”

“The basement! It was lying face down in the corner,” she said, handing it to her sister. “I need to finish cleaning it. Then I’m definitely going to hang it up.”

Lucy stared at the picture, glad that her sister had her back turned. It meant she didn’t have to hide her surprise.

She didn’t recognize the woman at all. But the man was Evan. He looked about five years younger-- technically, many more than five if she counted the ‘dead years’. Or maybe it’d been taken earlier in the same year he’d died, and he just looked younger because he didn’t have a beard in the photograph.

Then he came up beside her, and she glanced up at him. “When do you think it was taken?” she asked Amelia.

“No idea,” Amelia said, her voice almost a chirp. “But isn’t it fascinating? C’mon, sit down with me and have some pie, then we can go see if there’s more down there!”

“It was taken a year before. . .” Evan shook his head. “Never mind,” he whispered, his eyes still on the photograph.

Lucy realized that he wasn’t staring at the frozen image of himself, but at the woman. “I wonder who they are.”

Instead of answering the thinly-veiled question, Evan shook his head and turned away. Lucy sighed and gave the photograph back to Amelia before she spoke.

“I’m fine with looking for more pictures, but I’ll skip the pie, thanks.”

“Oh, come on,” Amelia said, carefully wiping off the rest of the glass and then cleaning the frame. The glass still had smudges all over it; she’d have to get some glass cleaner and fix that later. “I know you like pie.”

“Not every kind. Did she say what kind this was?”

“I don’t know, but one easy way to find out,” Amelia said, taking it out of the fridge and cutting into it. “Apple.”

Lucy looked over at Evan to see if he was going to say anything, but he was standing in front of the counter where Amelia had set down the picture, still staring at it.

Lot of help you are, she thought, as Amelia set down a piece in front of her and then started to cut one for herself. She inspected it, and what she saw made her wince. “Umm . . . Amelia?”

“What?”

“Look at this.” The apple slices looked normal, but laced throughout the rest of the pie filling were streaks of dark red. “What is that?” Lucy asked. “It looks like congealed blood.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Amelia said, but the sight of the oddly-colored streaks turned her stomach, too. “It’s probably . . . well, she probably used outdated ingredients without realizing it.”

“Yeah, or she’s trying to poison us.”

“I’m sure she wasn’t doing any such thing,” Amelia said, picking up Lucy’s piece of pie and throwing it into the trash. The rest of the pie soon followed. “She just made a mistake in the recipe, that’s all.”

“Well, whatever happened, I’m just glad I didn’t bite into that,” Lucy muttered. “Riding in an ambulance isn’t on my agenda for today.”

“Mine either,” Amelia said. “Come on. Let’s go see if there’s anything else in the basement.”

For once, Lucy didn’t lie in bed for twenty minutes, debating about the merits of getting up. She vaulted away from her covers and ran to her closet, deciding quickly what to wear.

Then she hurried to the bathroom, waving to Evan, who was standing in the hallway.

When she finished getting ready, she looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a purple tank top, jeans, and a black and purple necklace. She grinned. This had been such a long time coming.

She went out into the hall again and said hello to Evan. “I hope you’ll be able to come with us . . . how far away from the house can you go?”

“Not very far.”

“Oh,” Lucy said, disappointed. Even if she couldn’t talk to him when her sister was around, she still preferred having him there. “Well, I’ll see you when we get back, then,” she said, then smiled quickly and ran downstairs.

Lucy started to call a greeting, but her voice faded as she saw Amelia standing near the front door, hanging the picture of Evan and the young woman on the wall. She wasn’t smiling like she had been the first time she’d seen her looking at the photo, but there was a wistful look on her face that made Lucy’s stomach twist itself into a knot for some reason.

“Hey,” she said, and though her voice hadn’t been overly loud, Amelia jumped.

“Oh, you’re up,” Amelia said. “I was just getting a few things done first, then I was going to get you-- you ready to go?”

“Am I ever,” Lucy said, hurrying into the main room and getting her purse. Then she turned around, and saw what her sister had gotten-- a picnic basket.

An actual old-fashioned picnic basket.

The two of them stared at each other for a few seconds, twin ‘what do you need that for?’ looks on their faces.

“I started to tell you,” Evan said. “She’s been up for a couple of hours putting that together.”

“Oh, I get it,” Lucy said, hating the ‘please tell me I’m right’ desperation in her voice. “We’re going out to lunch, and then we’re heading to the city?”

“We’re not going to the city,” Amelia said. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Well, you said you were planning a surprise.”

“Yeah,” Amelia said. “This. It’ll be fun. We can take the day off from cleaning, take a walk, find somewhere to have lunch--”

“What is this, the Brady Bunch? I don’t want to go on some picnic, I want to get out of here!”

“We’ve only been here a little over a week.”

“Yeah, and I’m about to die of boredom, or haven’t you noticed?”

“It’s a little hard not to, when every other sentence is a complaint.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do, be all happy-cheery that I got blackmailed into coming with you?”

“If you’d been more responsible, ‘blackmailing’ wouldn’t have been an option.”

Lucy came close to snarling at her. Amelia had been a Certified Public Accountant back in New York, and had saved up quite a bit of her own money. She, on the other hand, had been perfectly content to stay at home-- as her mother had offered-- for as long as she wanted.

It wasn’t as if Nicole had bugged her to get a job. She’d told her that she was fine with her staying, with her not earning any cash of her own, and then she’d used that very position against her. But of course Amelia wouldn’t think to blame their mother for any of that. She couldn’t do any wrong.

Instead of saying anything else, she crossed her arms and turned away.

“Fine,” Amelia said. “If all you’re going to do is pout, I’ll go by myself.”

“You know, we don't even have to go all the way back home. A day trip to some kind of civilization would work. I could call my friends and have them meet us there.”

“You didn't have any friends.”

“Ouch,” Lucy said, hiding her surprise with a sarcastic smile. While she was sure that her sister thought things like that all the time, she rarely had the courage to say them out loud. “Have to admit, that was a point for you.”

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

So of course, since she’d been honest for once, she had to back off from it. “Now this I want to hear.”

Amelia paused. What was she supposed to say? ‘They probably miss access to mom’s house more than they miss you’? Though it worked both ways . . . until now, Lucy had never seemed broken up about their absence-- she probably missed having people to go dancing with more than the actual people themselves. “I just meant . . . if you had friends, wouldn’t they be calling you?”

“Just forget it,” Lucy said, and she watched as her sister nodded once and then left the house. She glared after her for a few seconds longer, and then she sighed, set her purse down, and followed. “For the record,” Lucy said as soon as she caught up, “I was not pouting.”

“Yes, you were,” Amelia muttered. “Are you coming along or not?”

“Sure. And look, I’m sorry. It’s just I really want to go into the city.”

“I know that. But I don’t think it’d be best--”

“Who are you to decide what’s ‘best’ for me?”

“The one with the car.”

“Okay, besides that.”

“Considering where we are, that’s the only reason I need.”

“What do you honestly think I’m going to do? Go off on a drinking binge?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. I made one mistake.”

“No, you made one mistake of that magnitude. You made a lot of other ones leading up to it.”

“And I’m the only one in the family who does, huh? I suppose we’ll ignore the fact that mom married an alcoholic and you chose somebody who couldn’t even keep it in his pants.”

“Maybe you should stay home.”

Lucy considered it. She could stay there, talk to Evan-- somebody who actually liked her instead of tolerated her-- and then she shook her head. Amelia hadn’t been able to give any kind of progress report to their mother yesterday when she’d called; if she didn’t give her good news soon, then she’d probably recommend putting off a visit to NYC even longer. “No, I’ll come along.”

“Then drop it,” Amelia said. Then she took a few deep breaths as she preceded her sister into the forest, trying to get her good mood back.

She’d come here to relax. But nearly every time she spoke with Lucy, she ended up arguing . . . or at least putting up her armor in case her sister let loose with one of her sarcastic little barbs.

And she hated that. She could remember when Lucy had been born, watching her and holding her very, very carefully, and trying unsuccessfully to play dolls with her.

But then their father had left, and Karen had come into her life, and soon Lucy had had friends of her own, and the two of them had never been as close as Amelia had imagined on the day she’d found out that she was going to get a baby sister.

Of all the mistakes in her life, Amelia regretted that one the most. And she’d hoped that maybe coming out here together would alter that outcome. Instead, it looked like it was just making everything worse.

She was startled out of her grim mood when an animal raced out of the forest, right at her. Realizing it was the dog, she sighed as it tried to jump up on her again. “Control your pet, would you?”

Lucy smiled. “So that’s permission to keep him?”

“Not in the house, but apparently he likes you. Might as well buy some dog food next time you go to town.”

“Will do,” she said, petting the dog. “I think I’ll name him Frank.”

“Interesting name for a dog.”

“Short for Frankenstein.”

“You need so much therapy.”

“What?”

Before she could answer, they got to the crossroads, and Amelia frowned. This place seemed familiar somehow, though she couldn’t quite place from where. She’d never been this far along the trail before.

Dismissing the feeling of déjà vu, she turned to her sister when she spoke.

“So,” Lucy said. “Which road do we want to take?”

“Not the left one,” Evan muttered.

“How about the right?” Lucy continued quickly.

“Okay,” Amelia said.

Lucy gave Evan a questioning look. She couldn’t very well ask about his comment out loud, after all. But if he noticed her expression, he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, look!” Amelia said a few moments later, when they came across the small cemetery. There were thirty graves there at the most, and many of them were crumbling. “Not very well-maintained, but still.”

She immediately went in, crouching down to look at some of the battered tombstones. Lucy stayed where she was, frowning. At her feet, Frank whined. “Maybe you shouldn’t be in there.”

“Why not? I love cemeteries. They’re peaceful.”

“Yeah, until the dead come out of their graves. No offense,” she whispered to Evan.

“None taken.”

Amelia laughed. “You’ve seen Night of the Living Dead way too many times.”

“That’s beside the point. Please tell me we’re not going to have our picnic here.”

“Oh sure, why not?”

“Amelia. . .”

“I’m kidding. Let’s go back down the path.”

“Fine with me,” Lucy said. The cemetery was giving her the creeps, and Evan didn’t look thrilled, either.

Once they were out of sight of the gravestones, Amelia opened the picnic basket. Lucy laughed when she saw the two sandwiches sitting on top of a pile of cookies and candy bars. “You sneak.”

“Thought you’d appreciate that.”

“Thanks,” Lucy said, reaching for a cookie. Amelia cleared her throat, and Lucy glanced up.

“At least eat some of the sandwich first,” Amelia said, picking up her own.

“I suppose,” Lucy said. “Down, Frank. This isn’t for you.” As she unwrapped the sandwich, she looked at Evan, who’d sat down next to them. Though she knew it was absurd, she wanted to offer him something to eat. It felt strange to always be grabbing snacks in front of him without asking if he wanted some.

But then, he was the first ghost she’d ever dealt with. She supposed if she was one of those psychic-people who were always in touch with them, she’d be used to things like this by now.

“So, since we’re not going to be out here all day,” Amelia said, “what do you want to do once we get back home?”

“Hmm. Go look outside all the windows and see if I can spot any flying pigs?”

Amelia laughed. “This isn’t Amityville. And besides, ‘haunted houses’ are hoaxes, anyway.”

Evan laughed, and beside him, Lucy tried very hard to keep a straight face. “Oh, really?”

“Really. People see movies or hear urban legends and they let their imaginations run away with them. Either that or there’s a person in the house who’s an unknown telekinetic. It’s more exciting, I guess, to believe that there’s some kind of supernatural reason, but. . .” She shrugged. “Guess I never went in much for ‘things that go bump in the night’ stories.”

“Clearly,” Lucy said. After all, if she wasn’t such a skeptic, she’d know that there were three people here instead of two. “Anyway, I say we make a batch of popcorn and watch a few movies.”

“Musicals?”

“Horror.”

“Comedy.”

“How about one of each?” Lucy asked. “Although technically, I’m the winner there, since to my mind we’ll be watching two horror--”

“Oh, hush.”

“You know I had to say it.”

“Yes, I know, brat,” Amelia said fondly.

“And I saw you hang the picture by the front door this morning,” Lucy said. “Since we didn’t find any others in the basement, maybe we should check around in the attic tomorrow?”

“I really don’t want to go up there again. But I am curious.”

“Admit it, you just want more pictures of that guy to stare at,” Lucy said, glancing over to see Evan’s reaction. He pretended to swat her on the back of the head, and she laughed at that and the slight chill she felt, and then she looked back to Amelia.

To her surprise, her older sister was blushing. She nearly made another joke, but couldn’t. She suddenly felt the way she had earlier in the morning when she’d seen Amelia staring at the photo. “Okay, never mind,” Lucy said quickly. “Kidding. I’m going to eat all these cookies now, by the way.”

“Yeah, right. I didn’t bake those just so you could eat them all.”

“You’re forgetting that I know you. You actually made three dozen instead of two, but you just ate that much dough before you baked them.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

They stayed there for another hour, Lucy chatting with her sister and, surreptitiously, Evan; Frank begging for food every few moments; Amelia trying to rescue a few cookies or candy bars for herself from Lucy’s sugar binge; and Evan sometimes chatting with Lucy, but mostly watching her and Amelia, and listening.

Lucy stumbled into the bathroom and blinked at her reflection, then winced. There should definitely be a law against seeing oneself before noon, she thought, reaching for her hairbrush. She and Amelia and Evan had stayed up until two in the morning watching movies, and while it had been fun, she was definitely regretting it now.

“Lucy! Breakfast!”

And her sister sounded way too cheerful.

“Coming, Martha Stewart,” she muttered.

When she got downstairs, it was to find two omelets on the table. She sat down across from her sister, and then smiled as Evan walked into the kitchen.

“So, we’re cleaning the attic today?”

“Well, there are still a few things to get done in the basement. But yeah, we should be able to start on the attic, anyway. I can’t wait to get that room painted and actually livable.”

“If we’re going to do any painting,” Lucy said, “I’d get started on that bedroom with the symbol in it.”

“Tell me about it. That thing’s getting covered up first.”

“I bet Elizabeth snuck in and did it.”

“Don’t start. She seemed perfectly nice.”

“She was scary, and she tried to poison us. Apple pie? Hello? Have you ever read Snow White?”

“Of course. And if I see any dwarves around here, then I’ll get nervous.”

“I give up.”

“Good . . . so does that mean you’re okay with going to visit her today?”

“Definitely, definitely not.”

“Why not?”

“As if the scariness wasn’t enough? What if she gives you another piece of pie? You can’t very well just toss it in the trash.” Then she saw the ashamed look on her sister’s face, and sighed. “Oh, come on. You can’t feel bad about that. What were you supposed to do, eat it? I’d be burying you in that creepy cemetery!”

“We’ll go right after breakfast,” Amelia said. “That way, if she offers us any food, we’ll tell her we just ate.”

“What is this ‘we’ business?”

“Come on, it’s one day out of your life. And not even a full day, at that.”

“I’d rather it not be the last day of my life, though.”

“You’re right,” Evan said. “Get her to stay home.”

“Look,” Lucy said. “We’re unpacking and getting cleaning stuff done. She’ll understand if we don’t come over.”

“If we can take a break to watch movies, we can take a shorter break to go visit a neighbor.”

Unsure of what else to say, Lucy got up and put her plate in the sink. “Be right back,” she said, heading upstairs. Once she got to her room, she quickly spoke. “Help me out here!”

“How?”

“Tell me something to say!”

“I don’t know what would influence her. She’s your sister.”

“If it’s one person who can’t influence her, it’s me. Maybe we should just go.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I thought you didn’t want to.”

“I don’t, but I want to know what you know that you’re not telling me.”

“Fine. It’s . . . it’s Frank. I went wandering around last night after you’d gone to bed to make sure no one was trying to get inside again, and I found her house. She-- she’d killed him.”

“Tell me you’re kidding,” Lucy said. “Please.” He just looked up at her sadly, and she knew. “Oh man.”

“You see why I didn’t want to tell you?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, wishing uselessly that she had convinced Amelia to bring the poor dog inside.

And now she was even more frightened, but there wasn’t any way to tell Amelia what Evan had just revealed . . . because how would she explain the newfound knowledge? “I am so definitely not going over there. No way.”

“I didn’t think you were going to.”

Lucy nodded, and then left her room and went back downstairs. To her irritation, she saw Amelia making three sandwiches.

“What are you doing?”

“She brought us something; we can bring her something. And this way we’ll preclude any offers of food from her. Win-win.”

“No, win-win would be staying at home. This is definitely lose-lose.”

“You’re living up to all the ‘hostile New Yorker’ stereotypes, you know,” Amelia teased.

“I don’t care. It’s not a good idea to go. Remember the whole never talk to strangers thing?”

“She’s not a stranger; she’s our neighbor.”

“Oh, really? What’s her last name? Her favorite color? She like to read?” Does she murder innocent animals in her spare time? she thought darkly. “You don’t know anything about her.”

“I know she’s lonely.”

“Because sane people don’t want to be anywhere around her.”

“Stop it,” Amelia said, putting the sandwiches in a brown paper bag.

“You know what? We really should keep going with the basement while the light’s still good. I know we’ve got a light bulb down there now, but it doesn’t go very far and it’s easier to see down there with light coming through those little windows.”

Amelia nodded. “Okay, we’ll finish with the basement, and then we’ll go.”

“That has got to be the slowest display of dusting I have ever witnessed.”

“What? We stayed up really late; I was tired.”

“You were stalling, and you know it.”

Lucy glanced over at Evan with a ‘now what?’ look as her sister walked into the kitchen. She’d been hoping that Amelia would forget about Elizabeth once she got caught up in housework again, but no such luck.

“Look, even if I wanted to go over there, it’s too late now,” Lucy said. “The sun’s getting ready to go down. We’d be walking back in the dark.”

“We handled the streets in New York after dark; I think we can handle a path in Vermont.”

“I’m not wandering around at night so I can get eaten by a bear.”

“Lucy--”

“Forget it.”

Amelia went back into the kitchen and got the sandwiches. “Come on. Grab the bug spray if you want it, but--”

“I told you. Not going.”

“Fine. Then I’ll go by myself.”

“Oh, what, and leave me alone here after dark?”

“If you don’t want to be left alone, come with me.”

“There’s a great choice.”

“I take it that’s a no,” Amelia muttered, heading out the front door. “I’ll see you later.”

Lucy leaned against the front door for a minute and then she cursed, locked it after her sister, and looked up at Evan. “I tried.”

“I know. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Wait a minute. I don’t want to sit in here by myself. What if Elizabeth’s not home; what if she’s waiting for a chance to get in here?”

“You can outrun her, if need be. At least you know she’s dangerous.”

“Hey, wait a minute, don’t--” But Evan was already walking through the wall, out onto the porch.

“Fine,” she said. “Go wander around after her, see if I care.”

Then she looked around the house, which suddenly seemed a lot more cavernous and grim now that Amelia and Evan weren’t here, and quickly opened the door.

There was no way she was going to go stumbling around in the woods after them. But she would wait outside on the porch.

Yes, their neighbor seemed a little eccentric, Amelia thought as she walked down the path, but anyone would be eccentric after being alone for so long. Elizabeth just needed some company.

Besides, she’d been nice enough to come over and give them a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ gift. The only polite thing to do was return that favor.

Even if it was a little frightening to be walking alone, with the shadows much stronger than they had been the other afternoon.

“Stop it,” she muttered. She didn’t need to start scaring herself. After all, she’d gone around the city alone, and hadn’t felt any danger in it-- at least not before the mugging. New York had just been what she was used to. And soon she would get used to this.

But until then, the sound of the wind in the trees would probably make her uneasy.

Several moments later she reached the cemetery, and paused as she thought she heard something. A voice, telling her to turn around.

She shook her head and started to take another step, and then she heard something else. Not an imagined voice this time, but something far too real. A laugh. Not entirely human. Something that sounded more like it belonged in the horror movie they’d watched the other night. It was quiet, but unmistakably near.

Amelia took a few deep breaths, resisting the urge to turn and flee. “You’re imagining things,” she whispered. Then she wrinkled her nose, as the air became tainted with a faint smell. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it reminded her of rotten eggs.

Then the laugh came again, and it sounded like the man was coming down the path on the other side of the cemetery. Any minute now she was going to actually see--

Disregarding the logical voice that told her there was nothing there, Amelia ran, dodging around headstones, her sandwich bag left lying unnoticed on the ground.

But whatever had been laughing never showed itself, and Amelia burst out of the trees and into the wide open space in front of the house, stopping so suddenly when she saw Lucy on the porch that she stumbled and nearly fell.

Lucy immediately got up and ran to her sister. “Are you okay? I told you not to go out there! What happened?” she said, addressing both Amelia and Evan with the last.

“I don’t know,” Amelia said. “Someone else was out there. I heard laughing.”

“Elizabeth was probably cackling over her cauldron,” Lucy said.

“No, it . . . it was male laughter.”

“And I don’t think it was human,” Evan added.

Lucy nearly said, ‘oh great, more spirits’, but stopped herself just in time. “Come on,” she said instead. “Let’s get inside.”

“Fine with me,” Amelia said.

Lucy watched her sister hurry past her, watched her hands shake as she finally managed to turn the doorknob. And even though she’d been hoping for the past few days that she would realize that this place might very well be dangerous, even though she’d wanted Amelia to acknowledge that she was right about visiting Elizabeth, she hated seeing her sister like this.

She shouldn’t be looking jittery, like the only things in the world she needed were a cup of hot cocoa and a hug. She should be puttering around the house and chirping about what projects needed to be done next, or even lecturing her.

Suddenly cast into the role of adult, Lucy had no idea what to do, and so she fell back into her old routines as she locked the door behind them. “Oh, quit looking so freaked out. So you heard a couple of teenagers giggling-- so what?”

“It wasn’t teenagers.”

Lucy grinned. “Oh, really? I think you just got scared and started hearing things.”

“I did not.”

“If you say so.”

Amelia glared at her, and then went back to the door and took off her shoes. “I’m going to bed.”

“Sweet dreams.”

The older woman didn’t say anything to that; she simply went into her room.

Only after her sister was out of sight did Lucy realize that might’ve been a perfect time to broach the subject of the supernatural again. But it was definitely too late now. If she knocked on Amelia’s door, the only thing that would greet her would be a snarl, or possibly a thrown lamp.

She sighed. “Oops.”

Next to her, Evan didn’t say anything, but Lucy was pretty sure that he agreed.

“Lucy, wake up!”

“Go ‘way,” Lucy muttered.

“Now!”

She glared at Evan. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Elizabeth’s coming.”

Lucy closed her eyes and groaned. And of course, that meant that Amelia was going to let her in. “Fine,” she muttered, getting up. “And quit following me,” she continued, as she went out into the hallway. “You try to come into the bathroom and I don’t care if you’re a ghost, I’ll hit you.”

“I’m not following you into-- never mind,” Evan said. “Now I remember why I usually wait for you to wake up instead of waking you myself.”

Lucy ignored him, shutting the door to the bathroom between them. Then she yawned, not bothering to turn on the light as she got dressed and combed her hair. She looked up into the mirror, and froze.

Something was moving in it. And it wasn’t her.

Then she realized that it was her. Slightly above and to the left of her face was a tiny image of her. In her room, but in different clothes than the ones she was wearing now. She was walking around lethargically, almost like she was in a trance.

Then she stopped in front of the window and stared outside, holding perfectly still for a moment.

Mesmerized, Lucy continued to watch the replica, until the door to her bedroom slowly started to open behind her.

Then she looked away, gasping as if she’d just come up out of a long dive. She shook her head, and then reluctantly glanced back at the mirror.

Nothing but her own face, far too pale in the darkness.

She flicked on the light, leaving it on as she opened the door again and hurried toward the stairs.

“Are you all right?” Evan asked, all annoyance from a moment before gone. “What--”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Before he could ask anything else, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” Lucy called, ducking down so that Elizabeth couldn’t see her through the window in the door. Then she crept into the kitchen.

Amelia was standing at the counter, washing her breakfast dishes. “Who was it?”

“Umm . . . door-to-door salesman.”

“Out here?” Amelia asked, and then her eyes narrowed and she quickly left the kitchen.

“Door-to-door what?” Evan asked.

“It was the best I could think of!” Lucy hissed. “What do you want from me; it’s early!” Then she went after her sister, who had opened the door.

“Hi, Elizabeth,” she said. “Come on in.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “Did you like the pie?”

“Yes,” Amelia said. “It was very good, thank you.”

As Amelia turned to go back to the kitchen, Elizabeth gave her a skeptical look. Lucy nearly cursed.

“She knows she’s lying,” Evan said quietly, voicing what Lucy hadn’t been able to say out loud.

Great, Lucy thought, following the rest of them into the kitchen.

“So, what have you been up to?” Amelia asked.

“Just the usual. Reading, tending my garden. I was wondering where you two were. You said that you’d visit me.”

“I know,” Amelia said. “We’ve just been really busy.”

“I suppose it would be time-consuming,” Elizabeth said. “Moving into a new house.”

“Yeah. It definitely is.”

“But you had time to go on a picnic.”

For an instant, Amelia’s hands paused in the cleaning of the plate she was holding, and then she continued as if nothing was the matter. “It was something we’d been planning for a while,” she lied smoothly. “Since you saw us, why didn’t you come say hello?”

“I didn’t want to intrude.”

Yeah, so you just watched us like some creepy stalker, Lucy thought. Then she wondered if the woman had been close enough to hear them. Picturing her stretched out on some tree branch like an old, evil-eyed snake, she nearly shuddered.

“You’re not an intrusion,” Amelia said. “As a matter of fact, I did start to visit yesterday, but by the time I headed out it was starting to get dark.”

“By the time you headed out? Why weren’t you with her?” she said, turning her attention to Lucy. “The woods aren’t nearly as frightening with two people.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Lucy lied. And even though she’d fooled everyone in her life at some time or another, she had the feeling that this woman wasn’t even the slightest bit taken in.

“Well, you’re fine now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Lucy said, knowing that if she went into a coughing fit now, it’d definitely look suspicious.

Elizabeth grinned. “Wonderful. Both of you can come back home with me, then.”

“I don’t think we can,” Amelia said. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. Have to go grocery shopping, and--”

Elizabeth started wandering around the kitchen and opening cupboards. “Oh, you’re only feeding two people,” she finally said. “Shopping won’t take you that long. Come keep an old woman company for a little while.”

“We are keeping you company,” Lucy said.

“I used to help my siblings host dinner parties when they were alive,” she said. “I want someone besides me in the house again.”

“We’re busy today,” Lucy said.

“No, you’re not,” Elizabeth said, her voice a whine. “You’re just standing here, talking to me.”

“We’ll see what our schedule’s like later,” Lucy said, and to her surprise, Elizabeth’s entire demeanor changed. One minute she was pathetic, the next enraged. The look of fury in her eyes as she shrieked the words, “You’re lying!” wouldn’t have frightened Lucy nearly so much if Elizabeth hadn’t reached out and grabbed a knife from its wooden block.

Elizabeth moved her arm, slashing out at her with the blade, and Evan stepped in front of her-- reflex, Lucy knew, surely he remembered that he couldn’t do anything-- but then Amelia was there, too, her form mixing with his.

Lucy darted to the side in time to see Amelia grab Elizabeth’s wrist and twist, hard. She expected to hear a bone snap, expected the skin to crumble like old paper, but instead Elizabeth just let out a catlike yowl and dropped the knife.

She stumbled back, her eyes accusing. Amelia took a step toward her. “Get. Out.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and the pathetic-looking old woman was back. “I have fits sometimes, I can’t help it. I promise I--”

“Out!”

“Why won’t you listen to me?” she pleaded.

“Maybe because you just tried to stab my little sister.”

“Don’t exaggerate; I wasn’t nearly close enough to--”

“I don’t care.”

“Who have you been talking to?” Elizabeth asked. “Those fools from town? They all hate me; the children come out and throw rocks at my windows; they--”

“Elizabeth. If you don’t leave right now, I swear to God I’ll pick you up and throw you out.”

“I told you I was sorry. You wouldn’t--”

“Try me,” Amelia growled.

Elizabeth’s shoulders drooped, and she slowly turned. “Fine. I apologize for bothering you.”

Amelia and the others followed her to the front door. Once she was past the porch, Amelia called after her.

“Hey. Did you paint anything in this house a few days ago?”

Elizabeth’s gnarled hands clenched into fists again. “You have been talking to the townspeople. You--”

Before she could say another word, Amelia slammed the door and locked it.

Lucy and Amelia stared at each other for a moment, and then Lucy grinned. “That was actually kinda cool,” she said. “I was waiting for you to go all kung fu on her.”

Amelia shrugged, and then sat down on the floor. “Well, my body didn’t like that,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“What’s the matter?”

“She wasn’t near enough to actually cut you, she was just trying to scare you-- I knew that. But when I stepped in front of you it still felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on me.”

“You and your paranoia about sharp objects,” Lucy said, though her voice didn’t come out nearly as lightly as she’d intended.

“Yeah,” Amelia said. “Yeah, that’s it. Anyway, I . . . errands. I have to go to the grocery store.”

“Not like this you don’t,” Lucy said. “You look way too stressed out to drive.”

Amelia smiled. “You just want my car again.”

“Of course. Coming along?”

“No. I don’t think it’d be a good idea to leave the house abandoned.”

“And I don’t think it’d be a good idea for anyone to be alone in here.”

“I’ll be fine. I need to pull myself together, anyway,” she said wryly, getting to her feet. “Besides, it’s not like we can afford a huge debate. We’re nearly out of food.”

“Well, we can always dig that pie out of the trash. . .”

“Ewwwww,” Amelia said, and Lucy laughed. Then she looked outside to make sure Elizabeth wasn’t anywhere in sight before opening the door.

“If you see a figure flying after the car on a broomstick, call 911 please.”

Lucy quickly went around the small store, getting everything they needed for a while. When she was finished, she felt like she’d just cleaned out Mr. Dean’s entire shop. It was weird being in a grocery store and being able to see all four walls easily.

“Good to see you again, Lucy!” the grocer said, once she got to the counter. “How’ve you been?”

“All right,” she said. “Elizabeth stopped by.”

“Oh, really? Thought she would. You have any trouble with her?”

“No,” Lucy said, feigning innocence. “Why?”

“Well, a lot of the people don’t like her. But when you first came in you hadn’t met her, and I didn’t want to scare you without any reason.”

“She did seem a bit strange.”

He nodded. “A couple of people have said that they’ve seen her peering in their windows at night. Probably imagining things, but you know how rumors start. Did I tell you that she named herself after a Queen?”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” Lucy said, looking at the total and digging in her purse for her wallet. Then she realized something, and froze.

Was he remembering correctly when he said she’d named herself after a Queen-- or did he mean Countess?

“Lucy? You all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, hurriedly getting out her money. “I’m fine. Just . . . just remembered something back at the house I have to take care of, is all. Thanks, Mr. Dean.”

“You’re welcome. You and your sister take care of yourselves.”

“We’ll try,” she said, as she picked up the bags of groceries and nearly stumbled out the door, trying not to panic as she loaded the food into the car.

If it was Countess, it’d make a lot more sense. Countess Elizabeth Bathory, who’d believed that she could remain young by bathing in blood.

Their neighbor Elizabeth, who’d killed poor Frank, baked them a pie with red streaks running through it, and really wanted them to come to her house.

On the deserted road, Lucy didn’t really have to worry about police. But even if they’d been more common here, she still would’ve gone over the speed limit.

She parked the car and then threw open the door, not even bothering to close it again before she ran to the house and unlocked the door.

She’d been worried about finding Elizabeth in the house again, about discovering that Amelia hadn’t been able to evict her this time. Instead, she found Amelia in the main room, going through some of the boxes. Evan was standing nearby, and both of them turned to her as the door opened. Lucy knew that she should’ve felt relieved at the sight. Instead, she felt angry for a few seconds.

Dismissing the bizarre emotion, she gestured behind her. “Hey. Want to come help me unload the car?”

“Sure,” Amelia said. “You all right? You look freaked out.”

“Oh, no reason. The grocer just told me that Elizabeth’s using a fake name; apparently she named herself after someone else. You ever heard of Countess Elizabeth Bathory?”

“Of course I have; I know you. Ohh,” Amelia said. Then she sighed. “The fun never stops.”

“Not around here, anyway. Have I mentioned that I want to go home?”

“Only eight million times.”

“Make this eight million and one.”

“So why can’t she see you?” Lucy asked, as she started to unpack her books. “Obviously she can sense when you’re around.”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe she just needs some incentive. Why don’t you knock a few things over in her room? That’d have no other explanation.”

“I’m not a poltergeist. Besides, do you think I want to scare her to death?”

Again, the quick anger. “You had no problem scaring me.”

“Before I went upstairs, I walked right past your sister. I didn’t expect you to see me.”

“I know, but still. So you can’t touch anything?” she asked. This’d be a whole lot easier if he could just make a few objects float around in front of Amelia.

“Only after I materialize.”

“Well, then go ahead.”

“I can’t. Once I materialize, I shorten my time here to just two days. This form doesn’t require as much energy.”

“Wait a minute,” Lucy said. She remembered that he’d said something earlier about his time being up once he’d fulfilled his mission to help her, but. . . “You mean you have to leave?”

“Yes,” he said. “I either choose when I go by materializing myself, or I stay long enough that I finally materialize automatically. Either way, two days later. . .”

He trailed off, and Lucy frowned. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to, either.”

She kept her eyes on him, started to say something else, and then finally shook her head. “Okay, we’re getting maudlin. Unpacking is enough to make anybody depressed.” She opened the door. “Hey, Amelia?”

“What?”

“Can you come here for a second?” As soon as she heard her sister's footsteps approaching, she turned to Evan. “Quick, stand in the doorway.”

“This isn't going to--”

“Would you just do it?” she hissed.

Amelia entered the room, flinching slightly as she walked through Evan.

“See?” Lucy said triumphantly. “It happened again.”

Amelia narrowed her eyes. “What did?”

“C'mon, don't start. He's in the doorway. I'm serious, turn around and look. The reason you felt cold earlier today was because he was standing where you moved. And it just happened again. Haven’t you heard of that? People getting cold when ghosts are--”

“Stop it!” Amelia said, and Lucy paused, because her sister sounded near tears. “What, getting a DUI isn’t enough, now you have to try to convince me that either you’re going nuts or I am?” Lucy just glared at her. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Well, I was thinking about it, but you seem to be nailing yourself to that cross just fine without my help.”

“I am not-- look, I don’t have to keep you here, you know that? You are twenty-two years old! You shouldn’t be telling ghost stories, and I shouldn’t have to support you!”

“Then don’t!”

“I’m your sister.”

“So you have to, right?”

“Listen, I. . .”

“Don’t even try it,” she interrupted. “And he’s not in the doorway anymore. He’s standing next to me. Come on,” she said, looking up at Evan. If he touched her right now and she felt cold again, then she’d have to believe, have to see him, and they could stop with this dumb ‘I’m telling the truth’, ‘no you’re not’ game. “Just take her hand.”

Evan took one look at Amelia’s too-wide eyes and pale face, and shook his head.

“Hell with both of you,” Lucy said. “I’m taking a walk.”

Lucy stalked down the narrow path, grumbling under her breath. She almost wanted to run into a bear, or a wolf, or Elizabeth . . . any one of them would give her a much-needed punching bag right now.

Then she heard footsteps and smiled, the expression almost feral. Good. Maybe she’d be able to take out her aggression after all.

But instead of Elizabeth, a stranger walked out from the left path of the crossroads to meet her. It was a man, about two or three years older than she was, and he was wearing hiking gear.

The land off past this path had a lot of trails, Amelia had told her on the day before they’d driven down. She’d also said that one of these days they’d explore them, but Lucy wasn’t eager to remind her of that suggestion.

“Hi,” he said, stopping in front of her and smiling. “Name’s Joel.”

“I’m Lucy.”

“You out for a hike, too?”

“Nah, just getting some time away from my sister.”

Joel laughed. “Family feud, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it. I used to quarrel with my brother all the damn time. Drove our parents nuts. Why I first took up hiking, really. Dan and mom and dad weren’t outdoor types, so it gave me some alone time.”

She smiled back and started to answer, and then fully realized that however amiably he was chatting, she didn’t know this man, and she was a good distance from the house.

“Glad you found a good hobby,” she said. “But I’d better get back. If I’m gone for too long, she worries.”

“Well, you haven’t been gone for that long yet, have you?” he asked. “Why don’t you walk with me for a little while? Hiking’s always nicer when you have someone to talk to.”

“Thanks, but I’d better get home.”

“I haven’t seen anyone on this trail for over a mile,” he said, and now she looked at his smile and saw something she didn’t quite like. It wasn’t a falsely charming smile like Alex’s, or an insane one like Elizabeth’s . . . it looked almost normal, really, but there was something vaguely predatory about it just the same. The question was, was he out looking for prey? Or was he just enough of a predator to recognize someone vulnerable when he saw her?

Either way, it was time to get out of here.

She turned, and heard his footsteps behind her.

“Come on,” he said. “No harm in talking, right?”

Lucy was just debating on whether she should keep on walking, or break into a run, when Evan came down the path. “About time you got here,” she said, not even caring about whether or not Joel could see him. If he could, then hopefully he’d back off. If he couldn’t, maybe he would think she was crazy, too, and go away.

Apparently, he could see him, because he spoke. “Hi. Name’s Joel.”

“Evan.”

“Just talking with your friend, here. Mind if I walk with you for a little while?”

“I do mind, actually.”

“No reason to use that tone, Evan,” the man said. “I’m just trying to--”

“Just leave,” Lucy said, tired of being polite to someone who obviously had no intention of listening to her, anyway. But an instant later, as Joel’s eyes narrowed, she regretted her words.

“Now you listen--”

Joel didn’t say any more than that. He paused when Evan stepped around Lucy. And then he screamed.

The hairs on the back of Lucy’s neck stood up. She’d never heard a man actually scream before, but Joel did, and then he ran back down the path, stumbling and falling every few steps.

Evan still had his back to her, and for a few seconds Lucy was afraid of what she’d see when he turned back around. Then he did turn, looking just the same as he had when she’d first seen him.

“What did you show him?” she asked.

“Never mind.”

“Evan. . .”

“I don’t have to look like I did when I was still alive, all right?”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’.”

She turned and began walking back home. “Evan. . .?”

“What?”

“What if he hadn’t been able to see you?”

“It’s best not to think about that.”

Lucy nodded as she walked up onto the porch and unlocked the door. The phone was ringing, and she walked by without picking it up.

“Useful as always, I see,” Amelia said, moving past her to answer the phone.

“I do what I can. And don’t hand that thing to me; I don’t feel like talking to her.”

Then she went upstairs. Amelia looked after her as she said hello to Nicole.

“Hi, honey. How was your day?”

“Trust me, don’t ask.”

After she hung up the phone, Amelia sighed and rubbed at her temples. After Lucy had left, she’d gone up to the attic, but hadn’t done much more besides glance around at all the filth before she’d come back downstairs. She just wasn’t in the mood to tackle that today. She’d unpack some more boxes and--

But instead of doing that, she found herself taking down her small box of photographs again.

Something about this house and photographs, she thought, her mind on the photo on the wall even as she took out the pictures of her and Alex.

She sighed as she stretched out on the bed. She supposed that a part of her would always wish that things had stayed the way they were when these photos were taken, but it was easier to not think of him constantly now.

After she’d said that she wanted a divorce, he’d spent so much time trying to convince her that she was going to hate herself for this later, that he’d just made a mistake and was sorry, but finally he’d given in.

And good riddance, she thought, closing her eyes.

She wondered what kind of marital problems the couple in the photo had had. If they’d even been married. Maybe they were just friends.

But if they had been married, she liked to think that they’d been happy.

Her mind still on the stranger in the picture, Amelia fell asleep.

Several moments later, she felt herself sit up, even though part of her was fully aware that she was still stretched out, still sleeping. Then she saw the man sitting on the end of her bed, and remembered. Something about a walk through the forest, and a lake.

She tried to speak to him again, relieved when her voice worked this time. “What are you doing here?”

The man looked utterly startled, and for a moment she was sure that he wasn’t going to answer. Then he finally spoke. “Keeping an eye on you.”

She smiled. “I know that. I mean, here. I have your picture. It’s a really old picture; you can’t be here now.”

“I certainly hadn’t planned on it.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, if you want to go, you can.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She tilted her head, giving him a quizzical stare as she tried to figure out what he meant by that. Then she just shrugged. “Why are you keeping an eye on me?”

He nodded to the photos. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I just hate Alex.” Then she sighed. “But I’d probably rather deal with him than the doubts.”

“Doubts?”

“I know I’m better off without him. But every once in a while I’ll remember him and think, you weren’t even able to hold his attention. I hate that more. So then I go listen to music.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Stupid bad mood. Anyway, enough about him. Why are you still in this house if you don’t want to be? Unfinished business?”

“Yes.”

She smiled again. “You’re not much of a talker. Is that lady here, too? The one with you in your photo?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It sounds like you miss her.”

“I probably always will,” he said.

“What was her name?”

“Rebecca.”

“That’s a nice name,” she murmured. “I remember sitting down with my mom and going through a name book, trying to pick out a name for my sister. I thought we were going to be best friends. Now look.”

“It’ll work out all right in the end,” he said, but he glanced away from her as he said it, and she knew that he didn't even believe the reassurance.

“No it won’t. I don’t know what to do. I keep messing up.”

“So does she,” he said, and that startled a smile out of her. “You’ll figure things out.”

Then a loud crash woke her up, and she stared around the room, wondering why she had the feeling that she’d just been talking to someone.

“Weird,” she muttered, and then she realized what the sound of a crash probably meant. She rubbed at her forehead as she got up. “Did whatever that was break?” she called.

“No!” Lucy called back. “And if you wouldn’t stack tins on top of the fridge to where they’d fall down on me when I opened the freezer. . .”

“Not like I did it on purpose,” Amelia said, and because she couldn’t help it, she smiled at the mental image of what had happened a moment ago.

She started to walk toward her closet-- if she was going to bed, she needed to change into her nightgown-- but stopped when she reached the end of her bed and suddenly felt a chill.

Remembering what Lucy had said about how people felt in the presence of ghosts, she shuddered and then stepped back. “Just a cold spot,” she muttered. “Every old house has them.”

Then she closed her eyes tightly as an image came to her mind, of a man standing there. She started to wonder why she thought of that, but before she could come up with a coherent answer she was reaching out her hand, brushing her fingertips across a cheek that she couldn’t see.

That wasn’t even there, she thought, cursing at herself as she quickly stepped away. She put the box back into the closet, futilely trying to ignore the fact that for an instant, her fingertips had felt cold.

“Are you going to stay in here all day?”

“Probably,” Lucy said, turning another page in her book. “Better than fighting with her again.”

“You don’t have to fight.”

“No, we don’t have to. But that’s usually how it turns out.”

“She just wants you to be happy.”

“Oh, no no no. One of the reasons I like you is you don’t always lecture me about Saint Amelia. You know how much crap like that I had to put up with when I was growing up? ‘Amelia was never this bad about turning in her homework’. ‘Amelia has nice handwriting; what happened to yours?’. ‘Why can’t you be more like your sister?’”

“I’m not trying to insult you. I’m telling you the truth.”

“If you like her so much, then why don’t you go haunt her for a while?”

“You think I haven’t tried?”

“Why would you even do that? She’s a stuck-up brat.” Evan raised his eyebrows, and Lucy got the distinct feeling that she’d just been insulted. “Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. Just leave me alone.”

“Look,” he said, “I’d rather talk with both of you, yes. But you’re the one who was receptive to me. I--”

“--settled for what you could get, right? I’d quit while I was ahead if I were you.”

“If you’d stop twisting my words around and just listen. . .”

“Fine, listening. What?”

“I was going to say that you and your sister should be able to work through things fairly easily, if you’re of a mind to. The two of you have a lot in common.”

“Oh, right. She’s a weird health-food nut who has horrible taste in music, and--”

“Don’t argue for arguing’s sake. If you went by petty standards like that, then you and I shouldn’t even get along.”

“You know what? We shouldn’t even get along by the non-petty standards. I mean, I’m alive and you’re dead. Doesn’t get much more important than that.”

“Forget I ever said anything.”

“No, now I’m curious. What do the Perfectionist and I have in common?”

“For one thing, she can’t see what’s right in front of her face,” Evan said curtly. “And neither can you.”

Then he walked through the door, leaving Lucy glaring at her book.

“I hate it when you get cryptic,” she said after him.

A moment later she forgot about Evan as fast-paced music started, and she groaned and covered her ears. The tune was faint, but still easily heard-- Amelia had to have her CD player cranked. “I have got to be adopted,” she said, heading over to her CD player. Once she’d drowned out the sound of Amelia’s music, she sat back down on her bed and continued to read.

Amelia smiled as she turned up the volume on her CD player, and as she moved back toward the box she was unpacking, her motions were more of a dance than a walk.

She stopped moving entirely when she thought she heard laughter.

The sound wasn’t anything like the frightening noise she’d heard in the forest. It had just been surprised, and pleased.

And completely imagined. Auditory hallucination caused by stress, she told herself, as she sat down and began to unpack. She grinned as she found a porcelain doll that Nicole had given Lucy for a present on her first birthday. She’d have to tell her sister to find a place for it in her room; when their mother visited she’d love to see it displayed.

Then she looked around as her thoughts turned to the laugh she’d heard. As she’d known, there was nobody there. But she couldn’t help but feel as if there should be.

Lucy reluctantly got up, and then left her room and went into the bathroom. She turned on the light before she was even fully inside, and then warily inspected her reflection. Nothing out of the ordinary.

She sighed, wondering what in the world she’d seen the other morning-- and what it meant.

Probably didn’t mean anything, she thought, but she knew she was lying to herself. It wouldn’t have shown up if it didn’t have any meaning. Right?

When she was ready to leave the bathroom, she closed her eyes for a few seconds and gathered her courage-- or stupidity, she thought-- and then turned off the light and looked into the mirror.

Though she stared at her shadowed reflection for over a minute, she didn’t see the eerie scene in her bedroom again. Turning on the light, she shook her head. Whatever had happened, it had probably been a one-time occurrence, nothing to really worry about, and--

Yeah, she thought sarcastically. Everyone sees tiny versions of themselves in their mirrors. No problem.

Well, problem or not, there wasn’t anything to be done about it. If she happened to see anything else later, then she’d just ignore it. And if she never saw anything else, then she could definitely live with that. After all, she wasn’t about to tempt whatever else might be out there by going back inside and chanting Bloody Mary.

Wincing at the mere thought, she went downstairs and saw Amelia putting some of her glass figurines into a display case. Evan was in the main room, too, pacing. Apparently he wasn’t in any better frame of mind than he had been this morning.

Ignoring him, she walked up to her sister. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Amelia said, and though her tone wasn’t hostile, it couldn’t exactly be called ‘warm and fuzzy’, either.

“Look, I’m . . . I’m sorry about yesterday,” she mumbled. “It was a big mix-up. Can we just forget about it?”

“Depends. You going to stop making up ghost stories?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then.”

When Amelia didn’t say anything else, Lucy made a face at her once she turned away, and then went back upstairs. Evan followed.

“There. That was humiliating and pointless,” she said, as soon as she’d closed the door to her room. “You happy now?”

“It wasn’t pointless.”

“Yeah, it was. She’ll just get mad at me about something else later. And I shouldn’t have even apologized in the first place. She’s the one who’s wrong, not me.”

“Still--”

“‘Still’, nothing. We’ve gotta figure out a way to solve this problem. Help me think. No, wait!” she said with a sudden grin. “No thinking necessary. Just stay here.”

With that, she raced downstairs, going through boxes, ignoring Amelia’s question of what she was looking for and her sigh of annoyance when she pulled out her old Ouija board.

When she got back upstairs, Evan looked at the Ouija board with obvious doubt.

“Hey, maybe it’ll work,” she said, opening it up and setting it down on the floor. “Apparently it thins some of the barriers between your world and ours, right? So maybe you’ll be able to touch it without fully materializing.”

“Maybe,” he said, tone skeptical.

“Okay. So, I guess I need to ask a question. Do you think this’ll work?”

“No.”

“The pointer, genius.”

“I know,” he said, smiling as he reached for the pointer. The shocked look on his face when his hand actually touched it made Lucy laugh.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed. “This is great.”

“Put this away.” Lucy blinked at him, surprised by his brusque tone, and he went on. “I’m not the only one who might use it to try and contact you. If you can convince your sister to go along with this, the session will have to be short.”

“Got it.” She started to say something else, but then he was getting to his feet. “Goodnight to you, too,” she muttered.

When she awoke in her sleep again, she saw him. He was closer than he had been previously; sitting next to her. When she smiled at him, he reached out and touched the side of her face, the motion hesitant. Amelia shivered a little, and then turned her face toward his hand, unsurprised when she felt nothing but the cold.

“I hope you see me tomorrow,” he said quietly. “However useless it is. When I . . . did what I did all those years ago I never envisioned this coming out of it. And I hope, if I get the chance to explain, that you’ll understand. That you both will.”

Amelia nodded, though as soon as the words were said she forgot them. Everything was a little blurry and too bright, but his voice was soft and his tone comforting, and she wanted to stay here.

But even considering that, she knew it was just a dream. It was bright because she’d fallen asleep with her light on, she remembered that now, and she was just imagining the man because of the scene she’d had with Lucy earlier.

She opened her eyes, confirming the unwelcome thoughts. No one there. And she hadn’t been here long enough to start fantasizing about men, either.

If that was all it was. What if--

Amelia shook her head. It was true that she rarely remembered her dreams-- and certainly didn’t remember having any recurring ones prior to this-- but she’d never been in a situation like this before either, and it was only natural that at least some part of her mind would react strangely.

Putting a bookmark into her novel, she set it down on the nightstand and then turned off the light.

“Hey, Amelia. Can I talk to you?”

“So long as you help while you talk,” Amelia said, putting the first coat of paint on the ceiling that held the Baphomet drawing.

“Got it,” Lucy said. She hated painting-- especially detail painting, which fortunately this wasn’t-- but since she was about to ask Amelia a favor, she figured it couldn’t hurt to suck up a little. “Now don’t get mad, but--”

“That’s never a good opening phrase,” Amelia said, but fortunately she sounded amused.

“It’s . . . it’s about the whole ghost thing.”

“Lucy--”

“Not about what I did or didn’t see,” Lucy said. “But just about ghosts in general. You don’t believe in them at all?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no proof.”

“People have pictures.”

“People have pictures that have alternate explanations. Either that or they’ve just been having way too much fun in Photoshop.”

“I just don’t think you should be so arrogant, is all.”

Amelia laughed. “How am I being arrogant?”

“Well, believing that you know for a fact that there’s nothing else out here? That you know something that big about the universe? I’d call it arrogant.”

“Since we’re talking about ghosts, I’d call it common sense.”

Lucy didn’t reply for a moment. In a way, she was still surprised to hear herself arguing this side of the issue. A month ago, she would’ve sounded exactly like her sister.

As Amelia continued painting the ceiling, she started to paint the wall, casting a ‘well, now what’ look at Evan as she did so. Not waiting for an answering comment, she continued. “Look, you know I’ve been interested in this stuff all my life. And you have to have heard stories about it yourself that defy explanation, and--”

“None of them ‘defy explanation’. The ones about the things that go after infants, those Lilith-demons or whatnot? Explanation for SIDS. The ‘vampire’ cases around here decades ago, with several members of the same family dying? Tuberculosis. Poltergeists? Subconscious telekinesis. People have been coming up with bizarre explanations for rational things since forever.”

“Still, I am curious. And since there’s nothing out there anyway,” she said, barely holding back a laugh, “then you won’t mind helping me with something?”

“What?”

Lucy hesitated for a few seconds, and then the words came out in a rush. “I want to have a séance.”

“What?”

“You know I have a Ouija board,” she quickly continued.

“Of course I know. I remember the fit mom threw when you brought it home, too.”

“That was pretty funny,” Lucy said. Then she focused again. “C’mon, it’s practically law that you have to use one of those when you move into a really old house. It’s as much tradition as s’mores by a campfire. Please?”

“Let’s finish painting this room,” Amelia said. “Then I’ll think about it.”

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”

“Okay, fine, sure. But after we sit there staring at the pointer for ten minutes and waiting for it to move, I don’t want to hear another word about ghosts.”

“You won’t,” Lucy said, surreptitiously winking at Evan.

And even though she hated to paint, she had a smile on her face for the remainder of the chore. As soon as it was done and the paintbrushes were cleaned, Lucy raced to her room and snatched the Ouija board out from under her bed.

Listening to the clatter of her sister running down the stairs, Amelia wondered what exactly she was plotting. She hadn’t seen her this cheerful in a long time.

Yes, Ouija boards were a scam, but if trying it would help cheer Lucy up, then she could waste a few minutes.

“Do we need candles for this?” she asked, as Lucy started to set up the board.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Come on, sit down.”

“I feel like I should be wearing pajamas and have my hair in pigtails,” Amelia said, but she sat.

“We could arrange that.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, you know how this works,” Lucy said. “One hand on the pointer, lightly.”

“Yeah,” Amelia said. “You going to ask the first question?”

“Sure,” Lucy said, grinning as Evan also put his hand on the pointer. “If anyone’s out there,” she said, raising her voice slightly for effect, “please say something.”

Evan immediately started to spell out the word ‘something’, and Amelia laughed.

“Apparently we have a sarcastic ghost.”

“Obviously,” Lucy said. Evan chuckled.

Then the humor on his face faded as he quickly looked around. Lucy wanted to ask him what the problem was, and then remembered what he’d said about things other than him wanting to use this as an entry point. Had he heard something?

Apparently the answer was yes, because he started to move the pointer again, the actions quick and precise.

‘I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I am here. Things have been bad for you lately, and I’m sorry. I want to help. I’ll try, if you’ll let me.’

To Evan’s obvious surprise, and Lucy’s mortification, Amelia suddenly took her hand off the pointer and leaned over the board, throwing her arms around her.

“So that’s what this is about!” she said. “Thanks so much, sis. I really appreciate it.”

“Get off,” Lucy protested, trying to squirm away. It had been years since they’d hugged each other in anything besides Christmas card photos, and she wanted to keep it that way.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, though. You do know you can talk to me anytime?”

“And here we go with the big sister act,” Lucy said, gathering up her Ouija board. “I’m out of here.”

She hurried upstairs again, and Amelia shook her head, still grinning. Not exactly a movie moment, she thought, but it’d definitely do.

“My sister is the dumbest person to ever walk the planet,” Lucy grumbled. “Why didn’t you just pick up the pointer and throw it or something?”

“Maybe it’s best that she doesn’t see me,” he said quietly. “Besides, you saw how happy she was at the thought that you were moving the pointer.”

“Well, at least they’re reasons, even though they’re not good ones.”

“Then why didn’t you argue more with her assumption?”

She glared at him. “Drop it.”

When the phone rang, Amelia nearly skipped over to it.

“Hey!”

“Hello,” Nicole said. “You sound better.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Lucy did the greatest thing today.”

“What?”

“See, she started talking about seeing ghosts practically since the day we moved in. I thought she was just trying to freak me out, but then today she convinces me to take out that Ouija board with her--”

“You know I don’t like that thing.”

“Mom, they’re harmless. Anyway, she moves the pointer, talking about how she knows things have been difficult and she’s sorry about that and really does want to help.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Saw it myself, I swear.”

“Let me talk to her?”

“Well, she kinda got twitchy as soon as I pointed out what she was doing, but . . . yeah, we should give it a try.” Then she moved the phone away from her mouth as she called her sister’s name.

Lucy looked up, and then she cursed. “Great. Now she wants me to talk to mom.”

Reluctantly, she got up off the bed and headed downstairs, Evan close behind her. She took the phone from Amelia-- who looked entirely like her Happy-Chipper self again-- and said hello.

“Hi, dear. Amelia says you’re doing better?”

“Well, you have to remember that Amelia did sniff a lot of glue when she was younger.”

She’d intended to put a nastier tone into her voice, intended to just make a mean-spirited joke and then hang up. To her further mortification, the words instead came out almost happily.

First the hug, and now this, she thought. This is a bad day.

“So who is she?” Lucy asked, as she took her last box up to her room and nudged the door shut behind her.

“Who’s who?”

“You’re stalling.”

“No, I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The woman in the photograph with you. Who is she?”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Come on,” Lucy said. “The only thing I’ve got to do today is unpack the rest of my stuff. Boring city. And you already know 900 things about me. Your turn to spill.”

He was silent for a long moment, and Lucy thought she was going to have to start badgering him again. Then he spoke. “Rebecca.”

Once again, silence. Lucy rolled her eyes. This was like drawing blood from a stone. “Continue?”

“She was my wife.”

“So why isn’t she a ghost, too?”

“Leave it alone.”

“What? It’s not like I’m an expert on your realm or anything. Who else am I supposed to ask? If you don’t know then just say so, but--”

“We died in different ways.”

“Ohh, so manner of death really does have something to do with whether you haunt places or not? I--”

“I said leave it alone!”

His voice was much sharper this time, almost a shout, but before she could shout back at him, he’d left.

“Fine, be that way,” she said. It wasn’t like she’d asked him anything intensely personal-- she’d asked about a woman in a photograph that’d been hanging downstairs for days now. He should’ve been expecting the question.

But if he didn’t want to talk to her, she could figure out other ways to find her answers. And she’d start by following him. Leaving her room quietly, she wondered if it was even possible to sneak up on a ghost. She was beginning to think that the answer was no when she looked inside the last room of the house, and still didn’t see him.

Then she remembered the attic, and reluctantly went up the stairs.

Evan was there, facing one of the support beams, his fingers fading right into the wood as he traced something there. Then he sighed and turned away, sitting down on the floor.

Lucy nearly swore. She wanted to see what he’d been looking at in the worst way, but not when he was sitting right there and obviously still in a dark mood. She’d just have to wait.

Amelia finished making lunch and then wrote a quick note and set it down on the counter underneath Lucy’s plate. Normally she’d call Lucy down, or take the lunch to her, but there’d be conversation then. Things had gone so wonderfully yesterday; she didn’t want to invite any criticism of today’s plans.

Picking up the bag with the other two sandwiches in it, she left the house.

She wasn’t actually going to go into Elizabeth’s house. But she did need to talk to the woman and tie up that loose end.

While the more optimistic part of her wanted to believe that Elizabeth was just a lonely old woman whose mind was acting up, someone to feel sorry for instead of fear, she couldn’t entirely convince herself of it.

Which was why she’d also brought the knife.

It was wrapped in brown paper at the bottom of the sandwich bag-- if everything went well, she’d just hand Elizabeth her sandwich and they’d talk, and there’d be no need for the older woman to ever see the weapon.

If, however, Elizabeth honestly was dangerous--

Not that she’d stab her or anything, but the threat needed to be there. If Elizabeth was dangerous, then Amelia needed to look dangerous right back if she was to have any hope of convincing the woman to stay away from her and Lucy.

Because things were unacceptable as they stood right now. Resentments were between them, and they couldn’t be allowed to fester any longer. She’d knock, offer a sandwich as a peace offering, and see where things stood. Elizabeth would choose the course of action after that. Either way, she’d settle this once and for all and then go back home.

Walking through the cemetery, she crossed her arms, fending off a feeling of uneasiness. She’d probably just imagined that laugh, she thought. And if she hadn’t imagined it, then it had just been a teenager playing a prank. And whoever it was was long gone by now.

Then she glanced down, and saw the tattered remains of her last sandwich bag. It looked like something had clawed it open.

Just raccoons, she thought, quickly leaving the cemetery and continuing on down the path. Once she was out of sight of the tombstones, she relaxed again, enjoying how peaceful it was out here.

Then the end of the path came, and she found herself facing Elizabeth’s house. It would be a pretty place, she thought, if some repairs were made. As was, it seemed more like a run-down shack than an actual home, despite its size.

She walked up to the front door and, finding no doorbell, knocked. “Elizabeth? It’s me, Amelia.”

Having given up on waiting Evan out, Lucy went back to her room and finished her unpacking. Then she hurried downstairs. “Okay, I say it’s time for another movie marathon.”

Then she looked around. Usually Amelia was in the main room, going through boxes, or she was in the kitchen. Not today. Maybe she was in her room.

She knocked on her sister’s door. “Amelia?”

No answer.

She called her sister’s name again, and then realized that in the time she’d been unpacking, Evan might’ve left the attic.

“Oh, great. You two had better not be reenacting any scenes from Ghost, or I’m gonna be so traumatized. . .”

Still nothing.

Fine, she thought, heading into the kitchen. Time for a room-by-room search. Then she’d look outside. And then she’d lecture her for inadvertently freaking her out.

Her room-by-room search, however, ended very quickly when she saw the peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the counter, and the note underneath the plate. She lifted the plate and started to pick up the sandwich as she read the note.

But as she looked over her sister’s words, any hunger disappeared.

‘Hey! I’m heading out for a walk . . . and I’m going to stop by Elizabeth’s. Don’t worry, kid, I’m not going inside, but she and I need to talk over a few things, best to get it over and done with. I should be back by four. Try to eat something more than this sandwich!
Love, Amelia’

Well, at least that explained why Evan wasn’t around. If Amelia was off visiting the Local Neighborhood Psycho, he was surely following her.

“What’s going on?”

Lucy jumped, then whirled around to glare at Evan. “Do not scare me like that! And what are you doing here, anyway? Is Amelia back?”

“I was up in the attic and I heard you shouting. Back from where?”

“Perfect,” she said, holding the note out for him to read.

Once he was finished, he spoke. “Come on.”

“I don’t think so,” Lucy said. “If she wants to go visit that weirdo, fine. I’m not traipsing off after her. Besides, she probably won’t even get there. She’ll hear something laughing again and run back home.”

“If she does make it and there’s trouble, I’ll need your help.”

“Fine. I don’t know why I’m doing this,” she continued, heading outside and locking the front door behind her. “This is her own stupid fault. We should still be inside. Or at least I should be; Elizabeth’d have a bit of a problem trying to chop you up for an evening meal.”

When Elizabeth didn’t answer the door, Amelia started to go back down the path, and then she turned again, biting her lower lip.

Maybe she wasn’t home; maybe she was just out taking a walk. But Elizabeth was old. What if she was home, and just couldn’t get to the door?

“Ohhh no,” she whispered. “Don’t even think it.” She didn’t love scary stories as much as her sister did, but she was familiar enough with them to know exactly what happened to the lone female who decided to explore a creepy house.

That was fiction, she reminded herself. If she went back home and then found out later that something had happened to Elizabeth, she’d feel terrible.

But still. She should run back home, call the police and--

And what if they didn’t find anything? Best to make sure that there was actually a problem before involving the authorities. Besides, she’d left a note for Lucy telling her where she was going. If she wasn’t back by a certain time, then Lucy would probably call the police anyway, rather than come out here again.

So, she was fine.

She went back up onto the porch and then knocked harder this time. Still no answer. “This is an incredibly bad plan,” she muttered, and then she turned the doorknob.

The door wasn’t locked, and as it slowly opened, Amelia called out again. “Hello? Elizabeth? It’s Amelia, can you hear me? Are you all right?”

Nothing.

Maybe she was just taking a nap. If so, then she probably wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed.

Or maybe she’d fallen and hit her head and was lying on the floor, unconscious.

Hopefully none of the above, Amelia thought, slowly going into the house. If she was uninjured, then she didn’t want to run into her in here. And for both their sakes, she didn’t want the other woman to be hurt. “Elizabeth?” she called, peering into one of the first rooms. There was almost nothing in there-- no bed, no carpet, no furniture-- just a multitude of pictures hanging on the wall.

It was a shrine, she realized. And though she wasn’t about to go in there and get close enough to inspect the faces in the photographs, she was still certain that the people in them were Elizabeth’s siblings and parents.

She moved away, feeling irritated at herself now for thinking so unkindly about the other woman. Yes, she’d frightened them the other day, but living alone with that much grief for so long would be enough to make anyone’s mind slip.

Amelia glanced at the stairs that led to the second floor, and then dismissed them for a moment. If she didn’t find Elizabeth on this floor, then she would search up there.

Nothing in the main room, or in the pantry. She started down the short hall to the next room, and then paused at the scent of a foul odor. Not like what she’d smelled in the cemetery . . . not like anything she’d ever smelled before. She took another step, trying to figure out the stench. It was probably the kitchen in front of her, she thought. Elizabeth had been cooking something. Then she’d fallen, and--

But if she’d been lying there for long enough for whatever she’d been baking to smell that awful, then there probably wasn’t much she could do for her.

Stop thinking like that, she told herself, reluctantly pushing open the door.

She’d been right about the fact that the room was the kitchen, right about the fact that Elizabeth had fallen, wrong about everything else.

The source of the stench came not only from Elizabeth’s bloated body, but from the fly-infested corpse of the dog that was lying a few feet away from the old woman. A small pool of congealed blood had formed underneath Frank’s throat, but most of the blood was in the small, shallow basin that was sitting between the two bodies.

Elizabeth had been splashing her face with it, Amelia realized, even as she stumbled away from the gruesome scene. There was dried blood on her face and her hands, she’d been--

Then she heard something. Something over the buzzing of the flies and her own ragged breathing.

Laughter. Coming from upstairs.

She knew that she’d have to pass those stairs if she went out the front door, but she turned and ran for the exit anyway. She didn’t know where the back door was, and the last thing she wanted was to get trapped in here with whoever was making that noise.

She raced past the stairs, even as she heard footsteps heading down, but she didn’t turn to look. Couldn’t. Not bothering to close the door behind her, she simply ran outside, feeling like her feet weren’t even touching the ground.

When she got to the cemetery she finally stopped running, and turned to look behind her. Nothing. And there wasn’t any laughter, either.

That’s because you were hallucinating, she thought, turning back to the path ahead of her as she tried to catch her breath. You found a woman dead. You’ve never seen a dead body before. So you panicked, and started hearing things. That’s all.

She still rummaged around in the sandwich bag for the knife. Once it was in her hand, though, she couldn’t look at it. Couldn’t believe she’d brought it along with the intent of threatening someone else with it; that she was holding it now.

Amelia looked up, trying to convince herself to put the knife back, but all thoughts of the weapon faded when she saw someone coming down the path. She felt another instant of panic before she realized that the figure was her sister.

When Lucy went around the bend in the path and came within sight of the cemetery, her first thought was that she was seeing another ghost.

Then she saw that the pale figure was actually Amelia, and she and Evan hurried forward.

“There you are,” Lucy said, glancing at the knife. “Well, at least you weren’t dumb enough to go unarmed. What happened?”

“I . . . nothing,” Amelia said. “Never mind. Let’s go home.”

“I don’t think so,” Lucy said. “‘Nothing’ wouldn’t make you look like that. What happened?”

“Okay, something did happen. But I’m not talking about it out here.”

Lucy started to argue further, and then just turned and followed her sister and Evan back toward their house.

“All right,” Lucy said, once they were all inside. “First off, can I just say how stupid it was to head over there by yourself?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Amelia said, putting the knife down on the counter and throwing the sandwich bag into the nearest trash can, hard. “You wouldn’t go.”

“Exactly, because I have a working brain! You should’ve just left her alone! What happened?”

Amelia sat down on the couch, remaining silent. Evan sat down on the other end of the couch, and as she waited for her sister to talk, Lucy sat down between them.

“Sis?” Lucy asked.

“She’s dead.”

Lucy winced. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words honest. While she wasn’t going to shed any tears over Elizabeth’s death, she wished her sister hadn’t been the one to discover-- “Hey, hold on,” she said. “Tell me that her body was on the lawn or something.”

“No.”

“You went into the house? You idiot!”

“I thought she might’ve been hurt!”

“So? She was crazy, did it ever occur to you that she might’ve been keeping quiet to try and lure you inside?”

“That wasn’t what happened, so don’t worry about it,” Amelia said. “Look, that-- that dog that was hanging around? Frank? He’s dead, too. She’d . . . she’d cut his throat.”

“Oh, hell,” Lucy whispered. No wonder her sister had looked so freaked out.

“I have to call the police,” Amelia said, starting to get up.

“Are you kidding?” Lucy asked. “And tell them what? ‘Hi, I broke into this lady’s house and--’”

“I didn’t break in; the door was unlocked!”

“Yeah. They’ll buy that. Look, she was a psycho and it’s a good thing she’s dead. Just too bad she didn’t go before she had a chance to kill Frank,” she said. “She already made things bad enough for us. And now you want to drag us into the middle of a police investigation?”

“They’d just ask me a few questions.”

“Oh, right. You know how they are. They just--”

“If you say the word ‘pigs’ again I swear you’re sleeping on the lawn tonight. Just because you got arrested once-- when you deserved it-- doesn’t make all cops idiots.”

“Fine. But I still don’t want to deal with them.”

“You won't have to.”

“You’ve already waited a while in calling,” Lucy said, pointing at the clock. “They’ll want to know why. And do you have an alibi? Did you get really close to the corpse and make sure that she did die of a heart attack or something? Because maybe somebody else got sick of her crap and killed her. Can you prove it wasn’t you? I can hear you now. ‘Why yes, Officer, I had a knife in my bag but I wasn’t actually going to do anything with it.’”

“I. . .” Amelia closed her eyes. She hated that her sister’s words were making her doubt her first instincts, but-- “We really should call.”

“Why? You know better than I do what she did to poor Frank. And who knows what she’s done to other animals-- more importantly, what she wanted to do to us. She tried to poison us! I know you don’t want to say it out loud, but you’ve got to know it. Now you want to keep her in our lives?”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Amelia said, but she heard the defeat in her voice.

Lucy looked around the room, using that as an excuse to see Evan. He was staring at the ground, and she really thought for the first time about how awful it must be to be that useless. After all, he wouldn’t have been able to help Amelia a short time ago, and if that man on the path hadn’t been able to see him, he wouldn’t have been able to help her, either. He couldn’t put an arm around Amelia’s shoulders and tell her to cheer up, or go put on a movie for them, or even make a joke that both of them could hear.

She’d never liked being alone. She couldn’t imagine how much she’d hate it to be around people, only to know that no matter what she did, she wouldn’t be noticed.

Lucy quickly stood up. “Okay, let’s-- let’s watch a movie or something, all right?”

“Okay,” Amelia said listlessly. “What do you want to watch?”

“Well, considering the fact that Scary Lady is lying dead in her house over there, nothing with zombies.”

Seeing the look on Amelia’s face, Lucy nearly groaned. This was exactly why Evan needed to be able to talk to her sister. Because she sucked at this whole ‘comforting’ business.

“You actually put on a romantic comedy without a gun being put to your head,” Amelia said, as the end credits rolled. “I’m proud of you.”

“Consider it my good deed for the millennium.”

Her sister smiled. “Well, if you want to watch a horror movie now, feel free. I’m going to bed.”

“It’s not even seven o’clock!”

“I know. But it’s been a long day, and I need some sleep.”

“Don’t you want some dinner, at least?”

The smile turned bitter. “Trust me, I am not hungry.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

Once she was gone, Lucy stretched out on the couch and looked to Evan, who was sitting on the floor in front of her. “Not a good day.”

“No.”

“Look, maybe we should try the Ouija board again. Amelia would like talking to you better than me right now, anyway.”

“We can’t.”

“Why not? Unless . . . would trying that again mean materializing or something, and then you’d have to leave?”

“No. We can’t try again because I’m not alone. Whenever someone calls, multitudes of things try to answer.”

“So it’s kindof luck of the draw as to who actually gets there first?”

“Yes.”

“Then why aren’t there a lot more ghosts wandering around? I mean, people pray all the time.”

“Prayer’s not what I’m talking about. Prayer is a request directed specifically at a deity. It’s the unspecified calls that leave the door open. Calls, or Ouija board sessions.”

“But wait a minute. You said it doesn’t have to be a ghost that answers. It can be a demon or an angel-- now I could see the angel, if someone called for help, but a demon?”

“It doesn’t matter what the caller’s intent is. It just matters who’s stronger, or who has a claim to a place.”

“So what happens if you call in a place where nothing has a claim?”

“You don’t want to do that.” She raised her eyebrows, and he continued. “The area can be flooded with things trying to get through to the mortal world again. Roanoke Island is one example of that.”

“That’s reassuring. So if you materialize and then don’t finish your job--”

“Then the door stays open.”

“Which means you eventually get the whole Ghostbusters thing of demonic realms in people’s fridges.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I’ve gotta stop making pop culture references around you. Anyway,” she said, smiling, “I know how to solve the problem. You materialize, and then drive me back to New York. Ta-da.”

“It doesn’t--”

“--work that way, I know. But it’s a nice thought.”

“Not really. For one thing, I don’t know how to drive.”

“Oh yeah.”

“We need to talk.”

Lucy yawned. “Great. The four most-feared words in the English language.”

“I’m serious, kid.”

“Can this at least wait until I’m conscious?”

“Wake up, then,” Amelia said, sitting down on the end of the bed. “I know you’ve been through a lot lately--”

“Spare the sympathy talk. If you really want to help me out, then take me home.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. Pack some food for the trip, get in the car with me, and drive until we reach civilization.”

“I’m not going to do that until I’m sure it’d be the best thing for you.”

“And when will you be sure of that?” she asked, as Evan came into the room.

“I’ll know when I’m there.” Lucy grumbled a curse and then pulled the covers back over her head. Amelia pulled them down. “Listen to me,” she said. “I really don’t think the city’s healthy for you. Not when you don’t have anything to do.”

“I had plenty to do.”

“Not from what I saw. My point is, if you really want to move back to New York later I think you should look into getting a job.”

“You’re kidding,” Lucy said. “I prefer not having to go in from 9 to 5 and deal with irritating coworkers all day.”

“Then find a job where the hours are different or--”

“Look at it this way. I was actually better for society than you were.”

“What?”

“You didn’t need that money you earned as a CPA. Yet you got a job, when you didn’t need one, thereby stealing it from someone who actually did need it. At least I was staying out of the way. Which is exactly what I’m going to continue to do when I get back home.”

“At least find a hobby.”

“I had a--”

“Besides getting wasted.”

“Can you just drop it?”

“No. Not until I’m sure I won’t be getting a call from the police asking me to come identify your body.”

“Oh, quit being melodramatic.”

“I’m not! You think it couldn’t happen to you? You drove drunk. If you do that again--”

“I won’t, okay? You happy now?”

“Getting closer,” Amelia said, smiling. Lucy didn’t smile back.

“We finished?” the younger woman asked.

“No. I also want to make a few things clear about this place.”

“I can hardly wait.”

“First, from now on you’re going to help me with things like painting and cleaning and unpacking.”

“I have been unpacking--”

“More than just your own belongings. Next, I want to know where you are. No more of this ‘heading out on a walk’ without me.”

“And yet you not only head off alone, but you deliberately go visit the female version of Hannibal Lecter.”

“It’s partly because of all that that I’m making this rule,” she said. “From now on, if you head off into the woods, I want to be with you.”

“Great. So much for alone time.”

“You want alone time, you can come up here. After you’re done with chores.”

“This is definitely a day when I should’ve stayed asleep.”

“Ha ha. Now come on, we’ll have some cereal and then start painting the next bedroom.”

“You go right ahead. I think I’m coming down with something. Feel my forehead? Definitely warm.”

“Up.”

It was no wonder the Grocer Fossil talked so much, Lucy thought, as she left the town’s small library. Someone had to pass on the town’s history, after all, since nothing in the library would be able to do so. She had more books, for pity’s sake.

She walked to the grocery store. She’d ask a few questions and then pick up some ice cream. That way, even if the old man didn’t know anything, it wouldn’t be a wasted trip.

“Hi, Lucy!” the grocer said, as she came into the store. “Everything going all right?”

“Well, mostly. We haven’t seen Elizabeth in a while,” she lied, “so that’s good.”

“Ohh,” he said. “No, I suppose you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what?”

“Well, late last night the Kinman twins decided to egg her house or some such. They found the door open and went in.” He shook his head. “Found a lot more than they bargained for. Don’t know why they even went inside in the first place, but . . . teenagers.”

She’d probably run around playing tricks on people, too, if she lived in a dumpy town like this one, Lucy thought, but didn’t say. She also wondered if maybe one of the twins had been the person to paint the symbol on their ceiling, instead of Elizabeth.

Probably not. Egging a house was a nasty little prank, but it wasn’t anything frightening. The symbol had been meant to scare them.

“What did they find?” she asked.

“Elizabeth was dead. And rumor has it they found a whole bunch of animals dead, too. Bones all over one of the upstairs bedrooms.”

“Yuck,” Lucy said, not faking her reaction. If that was true, she was glad her sister hadn’t gone upstairs.

“I bet that’s the last time they’ll try to egg someone’s house. Now don’t get me wrong, I got into spots of trouble, too, in my younger days, but nothing like that.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said, quickly continuing. The absolute last thing she wanted was to get the old man started on some ‘when I was your age’ talk. “Listen, do you know of anybody named Evan who used to live in our house?”

The old man stared at her, startled. “Why do you ask?”

“We found a photo in the basement,” Lucy said. “Of a couple. Took it out of the frame, and someone had written ‘Evan and Rebecca’ on the back of it.” She almost told him the truth. Almost told him that they’d found a photo, and then she’d gone up to the attic this morning and found ‘Evan and Rebecca’ carved into one of the support beams.

But she wasn’t able to say it. When she thought of that beam, she got a mental picture of Evan and Rebecca as teenagers, her standing on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder and grin as he carved the words. And that image prevented her from talking.

Francis shook his head. “I did hear about them when I was growing up. Sad story. Both of them died a couple of decades before I was born, but you know how folks are with ghost stories.”

“Ghost stories?” Lucy asked, trying not to sound too eager. If there was someone else around here who’d also seen Evan. . .

“See, they lived in that house about a hundred years ago. Rebecca drowned while taking a swim in a nearby lake. A year later, Evan took his own life. People say if you go to the lake, you can hear Rebecca screaming. And if you wander around in the house, sometimes you can hear him calling her name. Now I’ve heard a lot of versions of the story. When we were kids, we’d try to scare each other by saying that they were both lonely and since they couldn’t have children of their own anymore, they wanted to kill a few living ones to join them in their realm. Of course, there were the other stories,” he continued. “Ones saying that Rebecca didn’t drown accidentally, that her husband--”

“That’s silly,” Lucy snapped.

The grocer blinked. “Why?”

“It . . . well, it just is,” Lucy said. “If he got rid of her, then why would he kill himself later?”

“Maybe he felt bad about it afterwards; couldn’t live with the guilt. Or maybe,” he said, “he didn’t kill himself. We used to wonder if Rebecca didn’t come back from the grave long enough to get some revenge.”

Lucy thought that was ridiculous, too, but since she couldn’t actually explain that she knew Evan, she kept silent about it. “Did anyone ever actually see their ghosts? Or are those just stories?”

“Oh, of course they’re just stories,” the grocer said, laughing. “Kids trying to scare each other. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“What about you telling me that our house was haunted?”

“Oh, I was just teasin’ you. The house has a bad history, yeah, but that doesn’t mean ghosts exist.”

“Right,” Lucy said, walking a short distance away and picking up a gallon of ice cream. “I’ll just take this for right now. And thanks, Mr. Dean.”

“You’re welcome.”

“‘No such thing as ghosts’, my butt,” Lucy muttered, as she shut the car door and then hurried away from the vehicle and the grocery store, to the house that Francis had described the first time she’d talked to him.

Maybe Sophia wouldn’t have any useful information. Maybe she’d be just as full of it as Francis was . . . but then again, maybe not, and right now she’d take any help she could get.

Lucy knocked on the door then, and a middle-aged woman answered, peering at her over the rims of her spectacles.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Kinman? Sophia Kinman?”

“It’s ‘Miss’, dear. What seems to be the trouble?”

“Trouble?”

“You look worried. Something wrong?”

Lucy nearly stammered something and fled. She knew that if any strangers came up to her door-- worried-looking or not-- they’d probably get the ‘yeah, it’s the dinner hour, not nice to meet you, goodbye’ treatment, and encountering something so different was weird. “I . . . well, my name is Lucy Shaughnessy, and--”

“Oh, you’re one of the Shaughnessy girls! Frankie is always talking about you.”

“He is?” Lucy asked, trying and failing to get Creepy Old Man vibes out of her head.

“Yes. He just can’t believe you’d move into that nasty old house.”

The vibes gone, Lucy shrugged. “Well, unfortunately, we did. And that’s what I came to talk to you about, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not, I was hoping you would. Didn’t want to go out there myself, of course; no need to be pushy like Elizabeth always is. Was. Dreadful thing that happened to her, even though she--”

She paused, and Lucy raised her eyebrows as she followed her into the house and shut the door. “She what?”

Sophia sighed. “All right, she was a very disturbing woman, and I hated it when she’d try to sneak up on me while I was housecleaning.”

“If it’s such a ‘nasty old house’, then why did you go there every month?” Lucy asked, sitting down when Sophia gestured to a chair. The other woman didn’t answer for a moment, choosing instead to putter around the room, and Lucy took the opportunity to inspect her surroundings.

A tidy room, no dust in sight. Sophia obviously-- and understandably-- spent more time fixing things up around here than she ever had at the house Amelia had chosen.

A few pictures. Sophia was the focus of one, but the others were of her boys in various stages of growing up. Kindergarten class photos; one standing proudly next to the body of a deer; another-- or maybe the same one-- holding a trophy and a baseball bat.

Wonder if either of them are good pitchers, Lucy thought, remembering that ‘the Kinman twins’ were the ones who’d gone to Elizabeth’s to egg the place.

Then she realized that the person missing in all those photographs was a father, and wondered if Sophia had the kind of past history that her sister did, or whether her husband-- if she’d even married-- had died, or if something else had happened.

Not that it was any of her business. Granted, she’d come here today to ask about the lives and deaths of strangers, but at least she had a reason for that beyond simple curiosity.

“I went there because it helped me feel closer to them. Shawn and Beverly. I know it was foolish, but I thought that maybe . . . maybe I could find out some clue as to what happened to them. Besides, I told my sons where I was going every time I went to that place, and I never stayed for more than an hour.” No wonder it remained so generally filthy, then, Lucy thought. “What did happen to your friends?”

“They’re not entirely sure,” Sophia said. “They only found poor Shawn’s body. Outside, on the lawn. He’d been thrown out a window. People kept saying that Shawn hurt Beverly and then killed himself, and that was why her blood was in some of the other rooms but I never believed that. I knew them. Bev and I went to school together, and she and Shawn and I got on wonderfully. Neither of them had a mean bone in their bodies, especially not toward each other.”

“So what do you think killed them?”

“I don’t know, dear. I know nothing human.”

“You think a demon?”

Sophia arched an eyebrow. “Now why would you think that instead of some kind of animal?”

“Well, an animal couldn’t throw someone out a window, right?”

“Maybe he wasn’t thrown,” she said. “Maybe he jumped rather than face a rabid wolf or something.”

“Maybe,” Lucy said, knowing that her voice sounded weak.

“Honey, what did you see? I know you wouldn’t be coming to me about all this if something hadn’t scared you.”

“Weird things,” Lucy said quietly. “Something appearing in the mirror. A really creepy drawing on the ceiling. My sister doesn’t believe me, she doesn’t see anything at all except the drawing, and she just passes that off as vandals.”

“She’ll see something else soon enough, I’d wager,” Sophia said, her voice even grimmer now. “You need to convince her to get out of that house.”

“I’ve been trying. Did you ever see anything out there?”

“No.”

“But you believe that there might be?” she asked, hoping to encounter something other than Francis’s laughter or Amelia’s skepticism.

“I know there are things in this world I’ll never understand. And I know that places where people met death unexpectedly can be dangerous sometimes.”

“Thank you.”

“You know, for a while I thought maybe Elizabeth had something to do with the killings? I disliked that woman so very much. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned all that to Warren and Jack, though. That’s why they went up there. Thought they’d be ‘paying her back’ or some such.” She shook her head. “Teenage foolishness.”

“Do you know of anybody else who died in the house?”

“Rumor has it a woman was drowned at the lake by--”

“Don’t say her husband.”

“What?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve seen him. I talk to him,” Lucy said, nearly laughing at the fact that she could finally say that to someone who was watching her not like she thought she was a liar, but like she sympathized. “He . . . he killed himself.”

“And now he’s trapped? Poor dear,” she said. “I wonder why he never said anything to me. I was there often enough.”

“Well, I’ve heard that ghosts can only appear to certain people,” Lucy evaded. “Maybe that’s why my sister can’t see him.”

“Maybe.”

Lucy regarded the older woman for a few seconds, certain that if she stayed here any longer she was going to start babbling more details about Evan, Amelia, and other things that she shouldn’t be discussing with a basic stranger. She got to her feet. “I’d better go.”

“Are you sure? You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, I . . . oh, I’m an awful hostess, here you are sitting and talking and I don’t even offer you something to drink.”

“I’m fine. And I really should go home. Amelia just thinks I’m going to the grocery store, so I need to get back.”

“If you’re sure. But come back later if you want to-- or need to. I don’t want anything else happening to someone in that house.”

“Trust me, neither do I,” Lucy muttered, as soon as she was outside again. She knew that she was probably never going to go talk to Sophia again-- she’d seemed nice and so she didn’t want to drag her into everything if she could avoid it-- but she hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings by directly saying so.

Thinking about what she’d found out, she walked back to the car, trying to convince herself that the talk had made her feel better instead of worse.

Once she got home, Lucy nodded to Amelia and then put the ice cream in the freezer.

“Hey. I’m starting on another room-- you helping?”

“In a little bit. Got a few things to take care of upstairs,” she said, motioning to Evan to follow her. But he ended up going upstairs without her when someone knocked on the front door.

Lucy looked out the window, saw the man in uniform, and nearly darted away from the door. Instead, she reluctantly opened it. “Yes?”

“Hi. I’m Officer Travis. I was wondering if I could talk to you?”

“About what?” Lucy asked suspiciously, even though she already knew.

“Lucy, who is-- oh,” Amelia said, seeing the officer. “Hello.”

He nodded to her. “May I come in? I’d like to ask a few questions.”

“Certainly,” Amelia said.

A moment later they all sat down around the kitchen table, and Officer Travis spoke. “I’m not sure if you’ve already heard, but a neighbor of yours died two days ago.”

“I’d heard,” Lucy said. “This morning. From the grocer in town.”

“All right,” he said. “There were some . . . unusual things found in the house. I just need to know if either of you had ever been inside, or around there? Heard any strange noises, seen anything out of the ordinary?”

“No, we haven’t,” Amelia said. “She came over once to talk to us, and invited us to visit, but we never did. We’ve been busy working on the house.”

Lucy was impressed. She would’ve expected her sister to stammer her way through a lie like that, especially a lie to a cop, but she’d sounded perfectly believable.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s about all I have, then. Sorry to bother you.”

“It wasn’t a bother,” Amelia said, and as the policeman got up, she did, too. She showed him to the door, and Lucy hurried out after him onto the lawn.

“Hey,” Lucy said. “Listen-- when Elizabeth was here, she was saying some really weird stuff about this house being haunted. Something about people getting killed here thirty years ago? I feel kindof silly asking,” she said, giving him her best cute and innocent smile, “but--”

He nodded solemnly. “No need to feel silly,” he told her. “I might not pay any attention to stories like that myself, but my grandmother’s house was haunted.”

“Really?” Lucy asked, now interested despite herself in what the man might have to say, cop or no cop. “How?”

“You’d be standing in a warm room and the next minute it’d be ice cold, then back again. Lights would flicker, even after we had an electrician examine the place. I remember being in there as a kid and walking down one of the hallways, only to have the doors open and close by themselves. I know it was by themselves; my grandmother was the only other person in the house and she was asleep in her rocker.”

“Weird.”

“Very. Have you had anything like that happen in this house?”

“Not yet, anyway,” Lucy said, hoping Evan wouldn’t choose this moment to walk up to her. Considering the fact that this cop was actually open-minded about such things, he’d probably be able to see him just fine. And she didn’t want to be around for that particular Q&A session. “I just heard her say a few things about the people who’ve lived here before. You know anything about them?”

“Well, I . . .”

He glanced around, looking reluctant, and she gave him the Cute Smile again. “You can tell me. I don’t scare easily.”

“All right,” he said. “The couple who lived here thirty-six years ago died in a murder-suicide. The man killed his wife and then jumped out one of the top-story windows.”

“No wonder Elizabeth was telling ghost stories,” Lucy said, and then she took a slightly bigger chance. She’d gotten some information about Evan from Mr. Dean, hopefully she’d be able to get more now. “She also mentioned one of the first owners? Evan something?”

The policeman frowned. “I don’t remember his name, but there is a story about one of the previous owners hanging himself in the attic.”

“Well, I think I’ll stay out of there,” Lucy said, striving to keep her voice light.

“Probably for the best,” Officer Travis said, his voice still solemn. “If you’d like, I can come back and check on you every once in a while.”

Lucy’s defenses automatically went up. He wasn’t that much older than she was; was he hitting on her? If so, it wasn’t appreciated. And even if he was just trying to be helpful, the last thing she needed was a policeman hanging around. “No, that’s fine,” she said. “But thank you for offering.”

“All right,” he said. “It was nice meeting you. Have a good afternoon.”

“You, too.”

Lucy went back inside and walked past Amelia, who looked curious, but didn’t say anything. Lucy hadn’t expected her to-- and if she had, she wouldn’t have answered. Amelia wouldn’t want to hear about the topic of discussion anyway.

“Okay,” she said, closing her door behind her, “as to what I was going to say before we got interrupted . . . I know that you don’t want to talk about it, but I thought you should know that I found out what happened. To you and Rebecca. I went into town and talked to the grocer and a friend of his about it.” He turned away from her, saying nothing, and she moved in front of him. “Evan?”

“What? You think I’m going to thank you for going behind my back?”

“I didn’t--” Then she cut off, because she knew full well that she had. “Well, what else was I supposed to do? You didn’t want to tell me.”

“Maybe you should’ve respected that?”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I wanted to know. I do have some good news, though.”

“What?”

“Mr. Dean said that there are ghost stories around about you and her. So maybe if we go to the lake, we can find her.”

“No.”

“Evan--”

“Every time I’ve come back to this world, I’ve gone to the lake,” he said. “I’ve never seen her.”

“Well, maybe this time. . .”

“I told you, no.”

“Why won’t you at least try?”

“Why don’t you go ask your grocer friend?”

“You are such a jerk,” Lucy said, walking out of the room. He didn’t follow, and she stomped down the stairs, opening the front door.

“Where are you going?” Amelia asked, as she opened a paint can.

“For a walk!”

Amelia winced in expectation of the slamming door; the expectation was not in vain.

Lucy headed off down the path, grumbling under her breath. Then a branch caught her sleeve, and she glared at it and shoved it away.

“Stupid trees.”

Then she heard footsteps behind her, and turned. “Amelia?” she called. “Evan?”

Whoever it was didn’t answer. The footsteps just sped up. Lucy thought of the man who’d confronted her, and then her imagination threw out at least ten worse possibilities. She ran.

Taking the path to the right almost by reflex now, she ran from the footsteps until she reached the cemetery. What she saw there made her forget the footsteps entirely.

A woman crouched next to one of the graves, clawing at the ground. Her skin was unnaturally pale-- at least, the patches of skin that remained. Most of her flesh hung off her body in ragged chunks. In several places, Lucy could see the bone.

She knew she should run-- if not from this thing, then from whatever had been chasing her a moment ago-- but she couldn’t seem to move.

Then the woman-creature looked up at her, and though logically she couldn’t see her-- her eye sockets were dark and empty-- she smiled toothlessly and got to her feet, her motions jerky and uncoordinated.

Lucy tried to tell herself that this was just another ghost, albeit a very nasty one, that she could walk right through her and all she’d feel was slightly cold. But she’d been digging at the ground. Lucy could see the furrows there.

She turned and ran, going around the first bend before remembering that something had been pursuing her. She nearly screamed. Instead, she ran to a tall tree and began to climb. The bark scratched her palms as she pulled herself up, but in her panic she barely felt it.

Hopefully neither one of the whatever-they-weres would look up, because right now, she couldn’t think of a better idea. She settled on a sturdy branch and then looked down.

Less than a minute later, the thing from the graveyard stumbled down the path. Lucy stared at it, hoping that her heart wasn’t beating quite as loudly as it felt like, trying to keep her breathing shallow. She was absolutely certain the creature was going to stop and look up at her.

It didn’t. And then its form started to fade, until it was only a pale silhouette. Before it reached the next bend in the path, it disappeared altogether. Lucy shut her eyes tightly, trying not to cry.

“Lucy?”

She looked down, and even though she was still irritated at him for acting like an idiot, she grinned at the sight of him wandering down the path. “Evan!” she called.

“What are you doing up there?”

“Hiding from this creepy thing in the graveyard,” she said, as she quickly climbed down the tree. “I am never going down the right fork of that path again.”

“How about the left?”

For a few seconds, she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him correctly. Then she smiled. “If you’re sure.”

“Yes. For one thing, I don’t know how much more time I have and . . . I need to do this.”

“All right,” she said, walking with him. She did take one glance back towards the graveyard, but when she saw nothing on the path, she relaxed.

“What did this ‘thing’ look like?” Evan asked.

“It was a woman. Or at least it used to be. Really scraggly blond hair, skin falling off, no eyes. It was clawing at the ground in the cemetery.”

“A ghoul.”

“I don’t care what it was, I just don’t want to see it again.”

“You probably won’t.”

“What’s with the ‘probably’?”

“If you don’t go near the cemetery. I didn’t see it on the path-- did it follow you at all?”

“Yes, but it faded not long after it went past my tree.”

He nodded. “It’s not very strong yet.”

“Yet?”

“I’m still the only one who has a true right to be here,” he said. “I’m not saying that she wouldn’t have been able to hurt you if you’d gone into the graveyard. . .”

“So if I stay near the house, I’ll be fine?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not near the house right now, though.”

“Yes, but you’re with me.” He smiled. “And I think I can handle whatever else is out here.”

“Oh, great. You do know that this is always the point in movies where a phantom saber-toothed cat jumps out of a tree and eats you?”

“A phantom saber-toothed cat? What kind of movies do you watch?”

“Don’t make fun of my films, buddy.” Then she realized that his smile had disappeared, and she looked ahead of them to see the lake.

If she could have, she would’ve put a hand on his shoulder. As was, she just walked beside him as he moved to the shore.

“This is where I was,” he whispered, slowly sitting down. “I never really liked swimming. I used to tease Rebecca, tell her that she was secretly a mermaid. She’d laugh and agree. Any chance she had to come out here, she took it. She was a good swimmer,” he said. “So I still don’t know how to explain what happened.

“I was here, reading a book. She was out near the middle of the lake. Sometimes she’d call something to me and I’d answer, but for the most part we were quiet. Then she shouted my name. I looked up, and she was gone. I knew she wasn’t playing a joke, so I went after her.”

He closed his eyes, and Lucy wished more than ever that she could at least take his hand. She could picture it all too well-- him looking out over the lake, not seeing her, wading into the water with his shirt and slacks and shoes still on, not caring.

“I don’t know how many times I dove,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t find her. Finally I got out of the lake and ran back to the house, thinking I’d get help, that we could get her out . . . even while I was running, I knew it was too late. I’ve tried to figure out what happened. If she stayed out too long and got too tired to swim, or-- or maybe she’d called for help and a demon answered instead of a ghost. I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I. We were children when we met each other. Not much more than teenagers when we wed. A year after she died, I . . . I hung myself. If my parents had still been alive, or if I’d had brothers or sisters, or any close friends in town I doubt I would’ve done it. But there was only her.”

Lucy wasn’t sure what to say. She started to say, ‘I’m sorry’ again, but then she looked out at the lake, and saw movement in the water.

“Evan. . .” she said, her voice a squeak as she saw dark hair floating on the water for an instant before a woman slowly walked out of the lake.

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t tell me you can’t see that.”

“See what?” he asked, sounding irritable now.

“He can’t,” the woman said. “I’ve come to him every time he’s visited this lake. He can’t see me.”

“Oh man,” Lucy said.

“What is going on?” Evan snapped.

Rebecca smiled, kneeling down in front of him. “He never did like being confused,” she said, her voice amused and loving and sad all at once.

“It’s . . . it’s Rebecca. I’m not lying,” she said, when he turned to glare at her. “She’s here. She just walked out of the lake. She said that you can’t see her, that she’s tried to visit you whenever you’ve come out here before.”

Evan turned back to the lake. “Where?”

“Right in front of you,” Lucy said. “Hold . . . hold out your hand.”

He did, and Rebecca took it in both of hers. Lucy didn’t know if Evan could feel the contact or not, but he did close his eyes. At that, Rebecca smiled and moved into his arms.

“Tell him I miss him,” she said. “Tell him I’m sorry I complained so much about wanting to move to the city. I’m sorry I called for something I couldn’t see and brought all this down on us. If he could see me, if we could actually be with each other I’d stay here forever, I want him to know that.”

Lucy repeated the words, tears in her eyes.

“Are you always at this lake?” Evan asked.

“No,” Rebecca said. “Only when you’re here. But I . . . this is the last time. I’ve been hoping for some way to contact you. I wish things weren’t like this, but it’s time to say goodbye. If you could see me. . .”

She trailed off, and Lucy quietly repeated her words.

“I’m usually at the ocean,” Rebecca said. “It’s beautiful there.”

Lucy relayed the message, and Evan smiled. “I remember when we took a trip there. I thought you’d picked up every seashell on the beach.”

Rebecca stared up at him for a moment, and then framed his face in her hands. She kissed his cheek, then his lips. “I still love you,” she said, and then she turned and walked back into the water.

“Yes,” Evan said, though the word was more perfunctory than honest.

“I’m serious,” Lucy said. “You barely said a word to me all day yesterday.”

“I’m fine.”

“Look, I don’t like asking the questions any more than you like giving the answers. You’ve been acting weird.”

“I’ve had a lot to think about,” he said. “And frankly, I’m still thinking.”

There was a dismissal if she’d ever heard one. Lucy stalked away.

Ten minutes later, Lucy sat in yet another bedroom, painting yet another wall. “I should be getting paid for this.”

“Think of how nice the house’ll look when we’re done. Isn’t that payment enough?” Seeing the look her sister was giving her, Amelia laughed. “Never mind, you don’t need to answer.”

“Good.”

Lucy continued to paint, and then sighed as she looked around the room. Usually, when they worked, Evan would come in and talk to her, or at least listen to the two of them chatter. Now he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed him where Rebecca was concerned. But at least he’d heard from her again. Shouldn’t he be happy about that?

Oh, who knows, she thought. Either he’d get over it or he wouldn’t.

But she wanted him to come talk to her. After all, from the sound of it, he didn’t have very much time left, and--

And even if that wasn’t the case, she’d still want him to be here.

“Hell,” she muttered, irritated at herself. She should know better than to care about anybody by now, much less some guy who’d been dead for a century. It wasn’t as if they could go out for pizza and a beer.

But she supposed she hadn’t been able to help it. After all, everybody she knew wanted something from her-- her mother wanted her to be Amelia, Amelia wanted her to be Cutesy Little Sister, Alex . . . well, she didn’t want to know the details of what Alex wanted. And her friends had asked for money an awful lot.

Evan just talked with her.

She sat there for another moment, thinking, the paintbrush held uselessly in her hand, and then she set the brush back down on the bucket lid and got to her feet. “I’ll be right back.” Whether she knew what to say or not, she needed to apologize.

“Okay,” Amelia said, not taking her eyes off the wall.

Lucy hurried upstairs, and found Evan sitting in the hallway. “Well, you look positively emo,” she said.

“What?”

“Never mind. Look, I’m sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have pushed you into all that--”

“Lucy. . .”

“-- and I won’t do it again. I was just curious, and so I did something I shouldn’t have done, and. . .” She looked over at him, and saw that he was staring at her with a half-amused ‘are you done yet?’ look on his face. “What?”

“You don’t need to apologize. I haven’t been staying by myself because I’m angry at you. I should’ve made that clearer.”

“What’s going on? Maybe I can help.”

He shook his head. “It’s about how much time I have left.”

“Do you know?”

“No. Once I materialize, then I have two days, but if I wait too long to materialize, then I won’t be alone here anymore. As for how long is ‘too long’-- the first time I came back, one week was too long. Now I’ve got more time, but. . .”

“But you don’t know what to do to help?”

“Exactly.”

“Staying would help,” she muttered, embarrassed to find herself near tears for the second time in two days. “But I guess you can’t do that, can you?”

Before he could answer, she went into the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it.

A few seconds later, Evan walked through the door. “Did you forget locks don’t matter to ghosts?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I do want to stay,” he told her. “I also want things to be different than they are, but. . .” “Then why don’t we just move or something? After all, it’s not like whatever else is out there can hurt Amelia. She doesn’t believe they exist.”

“Once they get strong enough, belief won’t matter. I’ve thought this through, Lucy, I don’t know how many times. And I don’t know how to go outside the rules here.”

“Well, then talk with whatever made the rules! What did?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re dead. How can you not know?”

“Maybe it’s God, maybe it’s the Devil, maybe it’s a whole pantheon of deities,” he said. “I have no idea. Whatever’s in charge, I’ve never spoken with it. The only thing I’m sure of is what’s going to happen if I don’t leave after I do what I was sent to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“I . . .” He shook his head. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“Would you quit keeping secrets from me?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Not right now. I promise I’ll tell you everything. I just need a little bit of time to get it straight in my head.”

She started to yell at him, started to tell him that she wanted to know exactly what was going to come through from his realm if he didn’t finish his job and she wanted to know right now. Then she saw the look on his face, and recognized it.

After she’d left Alex alone at the New Year’s party, she’d gone into the bathroom and locked the door, staring at herself in the mirror and cursing. She’d known that she needed to tell her sister, but for a while she’d barely had the courage to step out of the bathroom again, let alone find Amelia and talk to her. That same worried, depressed look was on Evan’s face now.

“Fine. But if a week goes by and you still haven’t explained things, I will find a way to kick you in the butt.”

“I believe you.”

Lucy smiled, and then she opened the bathroom door and went back downstairs. She started to head into the bedroom they were working on, and then saw a red light blinking on the answering machine. That was weird. It was their mother’s day to call, yes, but she hadn’t heard the phone ring. And even if she hadn’t, Amelia would have.

She played the message, glancing at Evan when the machine announced the day it had been recorded-- three days from now. After that, for a few seconds there was only static.

Then the voice came, a loud scream, and Lucy jumped back from the answering machine. She glared at it and started to turn it off, thinking it was some kid calling random numbers and playing a prank. But her hand froze when the scream turned into a sob, and then the caller began to talk.

“Help . . . help me, I want to get out of here. . .”

The voice was her own.

Then the message ended, and Lucy looked over at Evan, her expression frantic. She started to ask if he’d heard that; didn’t need to. His expression told her that he had.

“What was that?” she asked. “Has that ever happened before?”

He shook his head. “But those machines weren’t here the last time I was--”

“Well, has anything like it happened, then?”

“No.”

“Amelia!” Lucy yelled. “Come here!”

“What is it?” Amelia asked a moment later, coming out of the bedroom.

“Listen to this,” she said, playing the message again. She resisted the urge to cover her ears as she heard herself shriek and then beg for help.

When she turned to her sister, she didn’t look startled or afraid. She just looked confused.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? You didn’t hear that?”

“I heard static. Weird that the answering machine would’ve picked up at all, though. I haven’t heard the phone. Hm. Might have to return it.”

“Did you hear the date it announced? Not today, not yesterday, three days from now!”

“So the clock’s messed up. I’ll fix it later.”

Lucy watched her walk back into the bedroom, and even though she knew that she shouldn’t be surprised, knew that her sister would probably refuse to see Evan up to and including the day he actually had to leave, she found herself infuriated anyway. Before she could think twice about it, she ran after her.

“No! You do not get to keep ignoring all this crap! You go back in there and listen to it again!”

“There’s nothing to listen to.”

“My voice is on there!” Lucy yelled. “Asking for help! I heard it! And if you’d stop being such an idiot you could hear it, too!”

“Calm down,” Amelia said. “I’m not falling for another one of your little pranks, so you might as well just help me paint.”

“I’m not helping you do anything until you go in there and listen!”

“Fine,” Amelia said, walking back into the other room and playing the message again. She glared at Lucy the entire time.

“Static,” she declared again, when it was finished.

“Why won’t you actually listen? Or look?” Lucy asked. “You said you heard something laughing in the woods. What do you think that was? Everything I’ve told you about this godforsaken house is true. And there’s a lot I haven’t told you. When I went to go talk to that cop, one of the things he told me was that Evan hung himself in our attic. And you know what happened in the woods day before yesterday? I saw a ghoul in that ‘peaceful’ little cemetery. She came after me, and I hid up in a tree until Evan found me. Then we went to the lake, the one his wife drowned in, and I watched her come up out of the water. I had to tell Evan what she was saying, because he couldn’t hear or see her. Some kind of curse, I--”

“Would you stop it already?”

“Not until you listen to me!”

“Don’t you dare start crying. That isn’t going to help. I don’t know why you’re doing this, kid, I thought--”

“Stop calling me that! I’m not a kid!”

“You’re certainly acting like one! I thought things were going better for you; instead you’re making things up--”

“I am not!”

“Right. So what am I supposed to do, set a place at the table for your imaginary friend?”

“He’s not imaginary, and ghosts don’t have to eat, genius.” Giving up on convincing her solely through words, she turned to Evan. “I know you said you didn’t want to freak her out, but just put a hand on her shoulder or something. Prove I’m not lying. Please.”

Evan sighed. “All right.”

Amelia glared at Lucy and started to say something else, and then she flinched when something cold seemed to touch her shoulder.

“See!” Lucy said. “You felt that; I know you did!”

“I didn’t feel anything.”

“Now who’s lying? C’mon, he’s standing right there. He’s wearing a white shirt, black slacks, black shoes. You can imagine him, I know you can, and I know you can see him if you just let yourself try.”

Instead of concentrating, Amelia closed her eyes. “There. Is. Nothing. There,” she said slowly. “Now go upstairs. You win, all right? You don’t have to paint today. Just go.”

“This isn’t about painting! Amelia--”

The ring of the phone interrupted her. Lucy stepped back.

“Don’t answer that.”

“It’s just mom,” Amelia said, reaching for the phone.

“Yeah, right. I’m still not touching that thing.”

“Is that what this was about? You trying to avoid mom again? You know what, fine. You don’t have to talk to her,” Amelia said. “Bye.” Then she picked up the phone. “Hello?”

Lucy could faintly hear their mother’s voice as she started talking, but that was little comfort. She turned and ran upstairs, unsurprised when Evan came through the door an instant after she slammed it.

“Why is she so stupid?”

“It’s not stupidity,” Evan said. “Some people can’t believe--”

“Well, she’s going to have to! She is going to be able to see you after you materialize, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, that’s a relief. At least she’ll stop thinking I’m crazy.” Then she whispered a curse and sat down on the bed. “Unless she’s right.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“Well thanks, Mr. Ghost, for clearing that up.”

“If you were crazy, would that man in the forest have been able to see me?”

“No. No, I guess not.”

“See? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Maybe. Depends on if it’s wrong of me to want to yell ‘I told you so’ at Amelia after you materialize.”

He smiled. “No, it’s not.”

“Good. Because I’m going to do it. Maybe even twice.” Then she remembered what his materialization would mean, and crossed her arms. “Not that I’ll have very much time to gloat.”

“I want to stay.”

“I know.” Then she smiled. “Hey, wait a minute. After you leave, I’ll just call for help again and you can come back!”

“That won’t work.”

“Why not? You said you’ve been here before, so--”

“Yes, and there’s always been years between those appearances,” he said. “Time for the walls to build themselves up again. If someone calls from the same place within too short a period of time, it’s easier for several things to come through faster.”

Despite the dismissal of her latest plan, she smiled. “You guys must have a lot of fun when it comes to hotel rooms, then.”

“Why do you think there are so many cases of people ‘jumping’ from their windows?”

“Okay . . . that just freaked me out.” The two of them were silent for a moment, and then Lucy spoke. “So . . . considering that message, and the ghoul, and whatever Amelia heard out in the woods-- how much time do you think you have left?”

“Less than a week.” He looked away from her. “But those things aren’t going to go away. And your sister still won’t see any of them. If you’d rather not deal with them, I can materialize right now.”

To her surprise, she didn’t even have to think about it. “No. Stay as long as you can.”

For some reason, he didn’t look relieved by her answer-- he looked pained. She narrowed her eyes. Here she’d basically said, ‘sure, I’ll go ahead and deal with the bizarre demon-things as long as you can stay’, and he couldn’t even manage a thanks? Men. “Unless you’re in a hurry to get out of here. Please, don’t let me keep you.”

“It isn’t that. Never mind,” he said. “I will tell you everything before I go.”

“Good.”

Amelia paced around her room, trying not to think over what her sister had said. One sentence in particular. ‘Hung himself in our attic’.

Unfortunately, it was impossible not to think about.

She sat down on the bed and closed her eyes for a moment, and then she got up and went back downstairs. Lucy, fortunately, wasn’t there. She picked up the flashlight and then went upstairs again, all the way to the attic. She still hadn’t cleaned this place yet. She’d looked around a little bit, but for the most part had left it untouched. Especially after the incident with the spiders.

That thought almost made her head right back down the stairs, but instead she walked around, moving the flashlight beam restlessly. She didn’t even know what she was looking for. Why she was up here in the first place. It was more than a little morbid, and--

Then she paused, and moved the flashlight beam back. There, tied to one of the upper rafters, was a piece of rope. It had been cut less than a foot away from the rafter itself. She quickly moved the beam away, but couldn’t get the image out of her mind.

Well, you found something, she thought caustically. Happy?

Cut it out, she thought. It doesn’t have to be what it looks like. Maybe. . .

Maybe what? Maybe it’s the remains of a children’s swing? Right. It made sense that whoever found him would’ve cut him down, not tried to untie the rope. And she was probably the first one to go into this attic in decades.

Almost before she realized what she was going to do, she went downstairs again, getting a knife from the kitchen. She brought it up to the attic, and then got the chair from her room and took it upstairs, too.

This is pointless, she thought, even as she stood on the chair and started awkwardly slicing at the rope. It isn’t as if the act’s going to be undone the instant this thing is cut down.

Then it was loose, and she quickly crouched to set the knife down, pausing when she caught sight of something else on a different nearby rafter. It wasn’t another piece of rope; just something etched into the wood. She aimed the flashlight at it, and saw the words-- ‘Evan and Rebecca’.

She got down off the chair and walked over to the other rafter, reaching up to touch the words. She thought of him, wandering around up here, imagined him carving these letters. She wondered how much time there’d been between that day and the day he’d tied the rope she was now holding. Had he seen the carving before he died? Had he been glad of his final decision after he’d gone too far to change his mind, or had he regretted it and wanted to take it back?

She didn’t want to be thinking about this. She’d wanted to picture them being happy. She’d dreamed about him; she wanted to picture a good story for his life, not one with an ending like this.

Her hands tightened on the rope, and she moved back to the chair to sit down as she started to cry.

Lucy watched her from the small door to the attic, only the top of her head visible as she stood on the steep, narrow stairs. Watched as Evan sat down on the chair next to her sister, putting his arm around her shoulders as best he could.

“I remember walking up here,” he said. “Holding the rope and the note. I didn’t think it’d hurt anybody but me. Let alone someone a century away. I was selfish.” He attempted a smile then. “Maybe that’s why I felt an affinity with Lucy right away; I recognized the trait.”

Lucy nearly snapped at him, and then remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place and remained silent as he continued to talk, his voice so soft that she almost couldn’t hear him.

“I’m sorry. If I could take it back, I would. I thought after a couple of minutes, it’d be over and instead . . . I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Please, stop crying.”

Her sister, once again proving that she couldn’t see or hear him, continued to sob.

Lucy shook her head and then left them that way. Several moments later she heard footsteps in the hall outside her bedroom and opened her door to see her sister, heading downstairs, carrying the rope and the knife. She thought about saying something to her, thought about trying to find Evan, but in the end just closed her door.

It was just routine. She’d gone into the bathroom, like she always did first thing in the morning, and forgot to immediately turn on the light. She’d looked up, seeing her own face in the darkness. Only it hadn’t stayed there for long.

This time, instead of a tiny scene, the entire mirror changed, showing the main room downstairs. She heard a low, strange laugh and immediately reached for the light, but didn’t turn it on, curious in spite of herself.

And we all know what curiosity leads to, she thought. Turn the light on!

But she didn’t move.

A few seconds after she heard the laugh, a scream followed, startling her so much that she twitched her hand, turning on the light simply by reflex.

But the images didn’t go away.

And then a woman ran into view, a woman with short, pale blond hair. She might’ve been pretty, but Lucy couldn’t tell. At the moment, all she could see in her features was terror. As Lucy watched, something caught her as she ran, something with clacking footsteps and pointed teeth. She continued to watch, too horrified to turn away, as it tore her apart with its claws.

Then a man came into view-- too late, far too late-- shouting as he hit the creature on the back with a chair. It did no good at all. The scene shimmered but didn’t disappear, and now they were upstairs, and the creature was carrying the terrified man over its head. It went into one of the rooms, walked over to the open window, and then shoved the man outside and hurled him down.

Shawn and Beverly, Lucy thought, and then she winced as she heard the man hit the ground. She’d have nightmares about that noise, she just knew it . . . then the thing that had murdered the couple suddenly turned and looked straight at her.

Lucy would’ve shrieked if she’d had the breath for it. Instead she flicked the light off and then on again, hoping to dispel it. No such luck. It drew closer to the mirror, and she snatched up the lid of the toilet tank, smashing it into the glass.

The images disappeared, and she sighed with relief-- and then groaned when she heard her sister’s footsteps in the hall.

“Are you okay . . . oh, no. Now what?”

“I saw something in the mirror,” Lucy said quickly. “This has a scientific explanation, I swear. I read once that when something really really nasty happens, a mirror can kindof absorb that energy, more so than other objects, and then play back whatever happened that imprinted itself--”

“Pick this up,” Amelia said. “And do not break anything else! You want to play crazy? Great. Fine. But no damaging things! Or at least stick with damaging your own.”

Then she turned and headed downstairs. Lucy sighed and looked at the shards of glass, then carefully laid down a towel and began to set the pieces of the mirror on it. At the rate she was going, she should just burn down the entire house and be done with it.

No, that wouldn’t do any good. She’d still be dead, just by Amelia’s hand instead of a demon’s. And considering how grouchy her sister had been lately, she might be better off taking her chances with the hoofed thing.

“Lucy, unlock this door.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“I have some candy bars.”

“That does not count. You need dinner.”

“Just slide some crackers under the door.”

Standing outside, Amelia rolled her eyes. “Open the door.”

“Fine,” Lucy said, getting up. She unlocked the door and then peered outside, half-afraid she’d see some kind of ghoul in the hallway, crawling toward them. No one was there but Amelia, who was holding a plate with a large sandwich and an apple on it.

“It’s almost 8:00. You going to sit in there all day?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said, taking the plate. “Bye now.”

Amelia barely managed to hold back a frustrated scream as Lucy shut the door on her and locked it again. She went downstairs and fixed herself some dinner, and then sat at the table alone, eating.

The house obviously had some drafts. But how had Lucy guessed that one would hit her shoulder at exactly that instant? And how had her sister known to describe the man in the photograph she’d found days before she’d even found it? And the dreams. . .

“Stop it,” she muttered. Just because Lucy was doing a great job of acting this time didn’t mean that she had to believe her. And just because she wanted to believe--

“Stop. It,” she repeated, louder now, and then she pushed her plate away and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t want to even be thinking about this. She should be chatting with Lucy before they got back to painting.

Well, that wasn’t what was happening, she thought, sitting up straight again and taking another bite. And she shouldn’t have expected it in the first place. Hoping that all of Lucy’s problems would just magically disappear once they got out here had been stupid.

She was going to keep complaining, keep lying and making up stories. But there had been some progress, at least. And in time there’d be more. She just had to tough it out.

Staring at her food, she finally got up and threw the rest of it away. She wasn’t feeling well-- whether she was catching a cold or whether stress was upsetting her stomach, she didn’t know. Either way, it was time to stop working for the day. She sat back down at the kitchen table again, and closed her eyes.

Even though she wasn’t anywhere near the front door, she still saw the picture.

Amelia started to curse at herself again, but then she heard a scream, and she jumped up so quickly that she hit her knees on the underside of the table. She swore, started to rub at the injury, and then ran out of the room instead.

Lucy took the sandwich and apple over to her bed, and sat down. “So, when you materialize, are you going to have to eat?” she asked Evan, as she scooted closer to him and set the plate down.

“No.”

“Okay. Wasn’t sure if it was the equivalent of having a mortal body again for a couple of days, or what.”

He shook his head and started to say something else, but then the entire room shook. Lucy barely kept from tumbling off the bed. “What the hell was that?” she asked. “Vermont doesn’t have earthquakes! Right?”

“Once in a while, yes,” Evan said, levitating slightly. “But I--”

The room rattled again, sending the plate to the floor and shattering it. Lucy scrambled to the middle of the bed, and when the room shook for a third time, she screamed. “Call them off!” she told Evan.

“I can’t!”

Amelia rattled the doorknob. “Lucy? Lucy, unlock the door!”

“Can’t!” Lucy yelled. “Kinda busy right now!” She closed her eyes, lying down and clinging to the covers.

Then she heard a loud crack, and the door was opening. Amelia ran into the room, and Lucy looked up long enough to notice her limp before the room shook again.

“What’s going on? Who were you talking to?”

“You don’t feel that?”

“What?”

“The room is shaking!”

“You’re jumping up and down on the bed! And by the way, if you’re trying to get into the loony bin, you’re sure going about it the right way.”

“Oh, I give up,” Lucy said. A few seconds later the rattling stopped, and Lucy sighed, relieved.

“That’s better,” Amelia said. “You know, you really are starting to freak me out.”

“Good. At least I’m not the only frightened person in this stupid house,” Lucy said, carefully getting up.

Amelia saw the plate on the floor, and spoke quickly. “Don’t step on the pieces.”

“Thanks,” Lucy said, moving away from them.

“Yeah. But don’t think I’m cleaning that up, or fixing you another meal. I don’t feel well, my foot hurts, and I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” Lucy said quietly. “Actually, that was pretty cool how you kicked the door in.”

“Well, if it was a stronger door I doubt it would’ve worked. Either way, do not make me do that again.”

“Sure,” Lucy said, after Amelia had gone off down the hall. “So sorry some weird supernatural force tried to throw me around the room.”

“Lucy. . .” Evan said quietly.

“I know, I know.”

Normally, she liked thunderstorms. But not when she was trying to sleep.

Lucy rolled over, waiting for another crack of thunder to jerk her out of her near-drowsy state. She didn’t wait long. “I hate you, Mother Nature.” Apparently Mother Nature wasn’t fond of her, either, since another loud boom followed Lucy’s words. “Yeah, I hear you,” she said. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

She wasn’t quite sure why she could never sleep during a storm-- she slept through car alarms and other traffic sounds all the time-- but it had been a trait ever since she was a child. Well, maybe she should just renew an old tradition. She’d go to the kitchen, get a snack, and watch a movie while she waited out the storm.

Sounds good, she decided, turning onto her back. Then she froze. On the shelf across from her bed, the doll her mother had given her was slowly getting to its feet.

She stared at it, barely breathing. The doll’s movements were uncoordinated, seemingly made even jerkier by the flashes of lightning, and might’ve been funny to Lucy if not for the fact that this was not supposed to be happening. Granted, Evan shouldn’t be there either, and she shouldn’t have witnessed that little scene in the mirror, but this was even worse.

She’d never liked the stupid doll anyway. She hadn’t wanted to bring it along, hadn’t wanted to put it in here. But no. Amelia had insisted, said that her mother would want it to be displayed.

Well, perfect. If this thing went Talky Tina on her, she could blame those two.

Instead of moving further, the doll stood there for a moment, perfectly still, watching her with painted eyes. Then it leaned over, looking at the distance between itself and the floor. It paced from one end of the shelf to the other and back again, and Lucy was abruptly very glad that she’d agreed to put it on the shelf instead of just setting it in the closet.

The doll continued to walk back and forth, its steps slow and awkward, its delicately-painted face turned toward her. Lucy wanted to get up, sneak around and run outside, but she was abruptly afraid that if she got even slightly closer to the doll, it’d leap down at her. Besides, she wasn’t entirely sure if she could move anyway. She tried to shriek, could barely get out a whisper.

“Evan,” she finally managed, her voice no more than a low murmur. Then she repeated it, louder, hoping that he was just sitting around in the hall. But apparently he was somewhere else in the house, because he didn’t show up. She debated once again about moving, but then the doll stepped off the shelf. Lucy heard the porcelain shatter and immediately sat up, pulling her feet away from the end of the bed as she started to reach for the light switch.

Her hand didn’t have time to reach it before the doll pulled itself up onto the footboard. Half its face was broken off, and one of its legs was cracked, but still it dragged itself up onto the bed.

Lucy opened her mouth, trying to scream, and then Evan stepped through the door and the doll’s movement stopped.

“What’s going on?” he asked, moving closer when he saw the look on her face. “I thought I heard you yell.”

“Well, you thought right,” Lucy said, quickly turning on the light and getting out of bed, away from the doll. “Where were you?”

He didn’t answer right away, and she nearly shrieked at him. “Oh, great. So you were staring at her, and meanwhile this stupid thing’s about to kill me,” she muttered, gesturing at the doll. She’d called out for him because he was still the strongest spirit here-- it stood to reason that anything else would grow weaker when he was around.

She swatted the doll to the floor, then took one of her heaviest books and smashed at it, breaking off the legs and arms and head.

There. Now if it came back to life, at least it wouldn’t have any way to move around. But she didn’t relish the idea of it being in her room’s trash can, either. She picked up the pieces, and was just about to open the window and throw them outside when Amelia opened her door.

“What’s--” The question stopped when the saw the pieces of the doll.

“It fell off the shelf,” Lucy said quickly.

“Oh, it did not. One fall wouldn’t do all that. And besides, I heard the pounding,” she said, and then she looked pointedly at the book still lying on the floor, with the porcelain fragments around it.

“Listen, it’s just--”

“Forget it. I don’t want to deal with any more excuses right now. The one favor I ask is that you not tell mom.”

“Fine.”

“Good. I’ll go get a trash bag; you can deal with sweeping up this mess.”

“Thanks a million.”

Amelia paused, and then turned to glare at her. “That’s it. You want to be rude? Get your own trash bag.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever deal with such an awful chore.”

Amelia stalked out of the room. Lucy glanced at Evan, sighing when she saw the look on his face. “Just don’t start,” she said. “I nearly get attacked by a psycho doll, and all she can do is complain about how this might hurt mom’s feelings.”

“Won’t it?”

“Who cares? Like it didn’t hurt my feelings to be shipped off to the middle of nowhere? And I’m not talking about this anymore,” she said. “I’m going to throw this stupid thing away, and find something to eat. You coming?”

Evan hesitated for a few seconds, and then he nodded and followed her into the hall.

The next morning, Lucy opened her eyes and blinked in confusion at the brightness of the room. She hadn’t left her light on. So. . .

Then she realized it was sunlight, and frowned. Usually Amelia had knocked on the door at least once before it got this late. She sat up and looked around, and saw that Evan wasn’t there, either.

Getting up, she opened the door and went out into the hall. She went downstairs and started to call her sister’s name, but then she saw Evan by the bathroom door, and heard the sound of retching coming from the bathroom.

“Umm . . . that’s not some kind of supernatural thing, is it?” she asked warily. After everything else that had happened, who was to say there wasn’t some kind of Spirit Flu going around?

“No.”

“Good. In that case, I’m glad I avoided her yesterday,” Lucy said. She hated being sick. She nodded to Evan, and then walked into the kitchen to get some breakfast.

Amelia flushed the toilet and then brushed her teeth for what seemed to be the tenth time that morning.

She saw her reflection in the mirror and sighed. There had to be some Law of Being Sick that stated no matter how times you brushed your hair, it would still frizz out all over your head.

She went back into the hall, leaving the bathroom door open and the light on-- unfortunately, she was certain she’d be back in there before too long. On the good side, at least her room wasn’t very far away. She crawled into bed again and then looked at the clock. It was another two hours before she could take another dose of medicine.

“Haaate,” she grumbled. Whether she was talking about germs, or her sister’s behavior, or the sunlight that wouldn’t go away and leave her alone, or fevers, or having to take pills, she didn’t know. Probably all of the above. Plus a few more things she was forgetting about right now.

Reluctantly, she got out of bed again and pulled down the window shade. Then she lay back down, kicking all the covers off the bed.

Lucy finished her glass of orange juice and stayed in the kitchen for a while, waiting for Evan to come join her. When he didn’t, she whispered a curse. From all signs, he didn’t have very much time left. So instead of spending it with her, he was hanging around with someone who not only couldn’t see or hear him, but was probably busy bowing to the porcelain god?

Perfect.

She walked past the bathroom and peered inside. Empty. Resigning herself to actually visiting her sister’s room, she went to the door and opened it. A quick look told her that she wouldn’t have to worry about saying anything to her sister; she was asleep.

Evan wasn’t. He was stretched out next to Amelia, one hand seeming to rest on her forehead. He looked up at her as she opened the door, and started to get to his feet.

“Oh no, really, not on my account,” Lucy said, and then she hurried away and grabbed the car keys.

She really should just take the car. Leave. Go back to New York. Her sister could get by without the car for a while-- it wasn’t too far of a walk to the grocery store. She’d probably see it as another fun opportunity for a nature hike.

Lucy stood next to the car, glaring at it, trying to finish convincing herself that she should drive off and not come back. She wouldn’t have to worry about ghouls or imitation earthquakes or infuriating ghosts.

But would Amelia have to? Evan had said that once the other things got strong enough, belief wouldn’t matter.

She walked away from the car. However much Amelia annoyed her, she couldn’t drive off. But neither did she want to go back inside and watch Evan hover around her sister. It was ridiculous. It wasn’t like she was dying or anything; she had a cold. The last time she’d been ill, nobody had hung around her just because. In fact, both her mother and Amelia had studiously avoided her.

Granted, her illness hadn’t been caused by germs; she’d been hung over. But the end result had still been the same. She’d felt awful, and their consensus had been, ‘oh well’. Jerks.

She wandered near the edge of the woods, wondering if she should go ahead and take a walk. Sure, the ghoul would probably get her, but it might be worth it just to hear Amelia try to explain that one without accepting the truth.

Then she saw footprints near the start of the trail, and paused.

They were hoofed-- which normally wouldn’t bother her, she knew there were deer in this area-- but the prints looked to be about twice the size of her own feet.

Maybe it was a moose, she thought, and then she walked slightly further down the path, looking for another print.

And she found one-- and only one. Not the kind of tracks that would suggest something with four legs walking. Just one and then another and then another, a hoofed being walking on its hind legs.

Meanwhile, here she was, out of sight of the house, tracking this thing.

“Lucy Shaughnessy, winner of the Idiot of the Year Award,” she said, turning and running back towards the safety of the house. To her surprise, nothing charged out of the woods after her. She shut the door and locked it behind her just in case.

She sighed and started to head upstairs, and then jumped when the phone rang.

She turned to glare at it. “Oh, I don't think so,” she muttered. She wasn’t going to pick it up. Not after what she’d heard on the answering machine.

But Amelia, useless as she was right now, was probably still asleep. And it was more than likely their mom, anyway. Their mom, who would pull her usual freakout-fit if the phone wasn’t picked up. Fine, she thought. But if the phone suddenly morphs into a snake or something, I’m going to kick somebody’s butt.

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi Lucy. Is Amelia there?”

“Can’t wait to stop talking to me, hm?”

“Now, honey--”

“Please cut that out. I’m not a condiment.”

“It’s a term of affection and you know it.”

“Affection? Ha. Anyway, Amelia can’t come to the phone; she has some kind of 24-hour flu thing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Tell her that I hope she feels better soon, and if she feels up to it take her a few crackers. And plenty of water, or juice.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m already a prisoner up here. I’m not adding ‘slave’ to the job description.”

“Lucy.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t starve, okay? But I’m not going to go in there every two minutes and fluff her pillow. I’ll tell her you said hi.”

“Thank you,” Nicole said, and if Lucy wasn’t very used to the tone by now, she might’ve winced at the iciness of it.

“No problem,” she replied cheerfully. “Talk to you later, mom!”

“Goodbye.”

“Hi.”

Evan smiled. “Hello. Are you feeling any better?”

“No,” Amelia said. “I just want to stay here for a week.”

“No reason why you can’t,” he said.

“Yes, there is. I need to start tearing wallpaper down, and--”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“If you’re talking to me, then you’re not truly resting. You need to get some sleep.”

“Aren’t I asleep?”

“Well . . . in a way, yes.”

Amelia frowned at his words. She had to be asleep, because he wasn’t actually here. But as she watched him walk toward the door, she quickly spoke. “I’d rather you stayed.”

He stopped and looked back at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to simply walk out of the room. Which wouldn’t have surprised her. Just because it was her dream didn’t mean she had any control over its outcome, after all.

But instead of leaving, he came back over and sat down next to her. She smiled. “I’m glad to see you again. I haven’t lately.”

“I’m here more often than you know.”

“Guess I should take more naps,” she said, and then she sighed and turned away.

“Amelia?”

“Never mind,” she said. “I’m just trying to figure out what to do about Lucy. I mean, she broke a mirror yesterday and I have no idea if she’s trying to panic me or if something’s honestly wrong, and--”

“Don’t worry about that, either,” he said, stretching out on the left side of the bed. “Right now you just need to relax. I. . .” He trailed off when she closed the small distance between them, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You what?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, reaching over to take one of her hands. “Just go to sleep.”

“I already told you, I am asleep,” she muttered.

But a few moments later the room grew brighter, and the sensation of being held, being safe, faded.

Amelia reluctantly opened her eyes. Judging from the thin stripes of light visible at the sides of the window, it was still afternoon, which wasn’t good. She would’ve preferred to sleep through to the evening, at least. Especially if she kept dreaming like that.

She blushed. The dreams were almost getting to be a habit . . . and it was one she didn’t want to break.

Well, no reason to break it, she thought. After all, they were harmless. And on the good side, her fever seemed to be down. She didn’t feel nearly as overheated as she had when she’d gone to bed. She also didn’t feel utterly awful anymore. Maybe she could try some really bland food, see if it’d stay down.

Then she got out of bed and ran for the bathroom, barely making it in time.

All right, I give up, she decided irritably. I won’t even think about food anymore.

She brushed her teeth again and then left the bathroom, nearly bumping into Lucy in the hallway. “Hey, there you are. You aren’t sick, are you?”

“No, and I intend to keep it that way,” Lucy said, backing up a few steps. “Mom called.”

“Yeah, I figured. What’d she say?”

“The usual. Cooed about you, cussed about me.”

“That isn’t fair--”

“You’re right, it’s not. But it’s sure accurate.”

“I am not getting into this right now.”

“Sure, go ahead, go back to bed,” Lucy said. “I’m sure Evan will appreciate it.”

“Not getting into that, either,” Amelia said, slamming her bedroom door before Lucy could say anything else. That girl was going to drive her completely insane.

She leaned against the door for a moment, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t feeling dizzy, and then she finally made herself walk back over to the bed and lie down. She’d sleep, and then when she woke up again she’d feel fine, the house would be done, and her sister would be a sane, rational human being.

Right.

“What is going on?” Evan asked, stepping into Lucy’s room.

Lucy took off her headphones. “Oh, you left her alone for ten seconds. I’m shocked.”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re going to be leaving soon, and--”

“If you’re so upset about the fact that I’m leaving, then why are you spending that time fighting with me? You could’ve come in, you know.”

Lucy glared at him, unwilling to admit that he was right, and then she pulled her headphones up again. Evan watched her for a moment, and then he turned and walked away.

Lucy ate breakfast downstairs, so when her room started shaking again later that morning, this time there was no plate to toss to the floor.

She quickly moved to the middle of the bed again, holding back a shriek as her dresser skidded to the opposite wall. Fortunately, she didn’t have any cute little breakable knickknacks . . . though that was small consolation when it seemed like she was about to get pitched off the bed and out the window. Evan was hovering a few feet away from her again, and she tried to focus her attention on him.

“I don’t want to see this anymore!” she said. “Maybe Amelia’s the lucky one. I want to be ‘logical’ enough to not see!” The ceiling bowed closer to her, and this time she wasn’t able to hold back a scream. Then she closed her eyes tightly. “2 + 2 = 4. I don’t believe in faeries.” The walls continued to shake.

“It’s too late not to see,” Evan told her, though he sounded worried, too. “You know that.”

“Shut up!”

Then the room stopped shaking, and all the noise was replaced by a fast knocking.

“Lucy? Come on, do not start this again.”

“I’d almost rather deal with the ‘earthquakes’,” Lucy grumbled as she unlocked the door. “What?”

“If you’re going to haul your furniture around, do it without the shrieking. Thank you.” Without waiting for an answer, Amelia shut the door again and headed back downstairs.

Fortunately, she was feeling much better than she had yesterday-- though she was still wary, and hadn’t risked more than a piece of dry toast for breakfast.

They needed to make a run to the grocery store again, either today or tomorrow. She didn’t want to make the drive herself-- considering the fact that whatever bug she’d had might still be hanging around-- but neither did she trust Lucy with the car. And for the first time, that had nothing to do with alcohol.

She doubted that her sister would deliberately try and wreck the car, but what if she really wasn’t playing a joke? What if something was wrong in her mind, and making her see things? She should probably tell their mother what was going on.

No. She’d give it a few more days, and see if she could figure anything else out. Because this was a joke, more than likely, and she didn’t want to panic Nicole unnecessarily.

It’d be nice if Lucy felt the same way about her.

“Enough,” she muttered. “Just because you’re wandering in an old house doesn’t mean you get to be maudlin.” Obviously it was far past time to put on some music and get back to work.

She picked up her CD player, which was sitting close to the staircase, and when she looked up, her gaze landed on the picture. Well, at least if Lucy was busy having hallucinations, she was envisioning good things.

Amelia grinned at the thought. That settled it; she was definitely feeling better.

Still smiling, she went to go get her painting supplies.

“I think that’s it for me,” Lucy said, yawning. The two of them had been talking quietly for hours now, fortunately without any further supernatural disturbances. “I’m going to bed.”

Evan nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She watched him start to walk off, and then cursed herself for a probable idiot as she spoke. “Actually, could you stay in here? Not to sound paranoid or anything, but considering what’s been going on, I just. . .”

Stop babbling, she told herself. You asked the question, now shut up.

Though she’d suspected that he’d agree, she still had to hold back a relieved smile when Evan nodded and then sat down next to the door.

In her dream, she was on the path in the woods.

Lucy looked around and knew it had to be a dream, because there was no way she’d go here again while she was awake. She approached the crossroads and looked off toward the lake, wondering if she should go that way and see if Rebecca was still around.

Instead, she headed toward the graveyard.

Bad idea, dream-self, she thought. Great. This was probably going to turn into a nightmare, and then she was going to be awake the rest of the night and grumpy all the next day.

When she reached the graveyard, she saw one thing she expected and several things she didn’t. The one thing she expected was the ghoul. The things she didn’t were the other ghouls.

At least, she assumed they were ghouls. She couldn’t see all of their bodies, just their hands as they clawed up out of the earth.

Okay, this is enough, she thought. Time to wake up now.

The ghouls started to come further out of the ground, clods of dirt and old grass falling from their exposed bones, and they all turned empty eye sockets in her direction. Definitely time to wake up, Lucy thought, but she couldn’t seem to move. Come on, eyes, she thought. Open. Open, and then Evan can talk to you and you’ll go downstairs and Amelia will be dancing around to some old Journey song and you can tease her about her utter lack of coordination and--

Then a clammy pair of hands grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms, and she realized this might not be a dream at all.

She shrieked and tried to pull away, but whatever was holding her was unnaturally strong, and it kept her in place as the ghouls struggled to their feet and began to come toward her.

Then she felt something squirming on her shoulder and glanced down, screaming again when she saw that a maggot had fallen from the creature’s straggly hair. The shock of that gave her an extra burst of strength, and she managed to jerk away, falling to the ground and scraping her knees. Before she could regain her footing, the creature grabbed her ankles and started to pull her back toward it.

Lucy tried to twist loose, and finally dug her nails into the ground in a futile effort to gain traction. Then the other ghouls reached her and picked her up, carrying her back down the path.

It reminded her absurdly of football players hefting the star athlete after the game, and she might’ve laughed if she wasn’t fully aware that she wouldn’t be able to stop. They turned at the crossroads, heading towards the lake, and Lucy continued to shriek at her captors and fight, even though she knew it was pointless.

She closed her eyes again, imagining herself as she surely must be, back in her bed, thrashing around and tangling the covers. Maybe she’d get lucky and roll out of bed. Yeah, she’d have a few bruises, but at least she’d be away from here.

“Help,” she whispered, hoping that her actual physical self would hear her and wake up. “Help me, I want to get out of here. . .”

Then she nearly screamed again. She knew those words. Remembered them clearly; had heard them three days ago on their answering machine.

This is not happening, she told herself again, but the thought was becoming less and less convincing. She opened her eyes, and saw that they’d reached the shore. The ghouls all froze for a moment, staring at the water. Lucy looked, too, waiting to see something, but the lake remained still.

Then the ghouls suddenly lifted her higher and pitched her into the water.

Stupid things, she thought, quickly coming to the surface. What, did they think she couldn’t swim? Granted, the lake water got deep pretty quickly at this point, but--

Then something grabbed hold of her ankles and yanked her down, and Lucy barely had time to take a quick breath before she was underwater again.

Was this what had happened to Rebecca?

The thought terrified her, and she reached down and tried to claw at the hands holding her ankles, but that had no effect. No effect and she couldn’t hold her breath for much longer.

Then something behind her grabbed her shoulders, and she would’ve lashed out if she hadn’t realized that those hands were pulling up. She tried to help, tried to kick away the other hands, but the water was looking darker and darker and she had a horrible feeling that it was more her vision fading than anything else.

Whatever was dragging her down finally let go, and then she was at the surface again, frantically gasping for air, finally turning to see Evan behind her.

“Come on,” he said, his hands moving to her shoulders again, trying to guide her out of the water. “We need to get out of here.”

“And go where?” she asked, looking around them. The ghouls had spread out, forming a circle around the lake, watching them expectantly.

“We can outrun them. Now--”

Then his eyes widened, and he suddenly disappeared underwater, dragging her with him--

Lucy opened her eyes then, and nearly screamed as she found herself in the waking world, but still looking at Evan, his hands on her shoulders.

Then she realized that she was looking up at him, not across, and they were in her bedroom, not the water.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You were having a nightmare; you wouldn’t wake up.”

She didn’t answer. She’d turned her head to the side, staring at his right hand. He was actually touching her. He’d materialized.

“Ohhh man,” she whispered, moving away and sitting up. “Evan, tell me you didn’t do that just because I was having a bad dream? I mean, it was freakier than I don’t know what but I would’ve been fine.”

“No,” he said. “It was time.”

That meant there were two days left, she thought. Only two, and then-- No. She wouldn’t concentrate on that right now. Getting out of bed, she went to the light switch and flipped it on. “Well then, I’d say this calls for a party!”

He smiled. “It’s close to midnight.”

“Best time for a party, trust me. Come on, we can head downstairs and. . .”

She trailed off, and Evan moved closer to her. “What’s wrong?”

Lucy barely heard him. She was staring at her hand, which was still resting close to the light switch. There was dirt caked under her fingernails.

“Lucy?”

“That was not there when I went to bed,” she told him. She reached up to feel her hair, half-afraid that it’d be damp.

It wasn’t. But still . . .

“I am never sleeping again,” she said, opening the door. “Was that dream actually real? I mean, were you there, did--”

He shook his head. “I have no idea what you dreamed. It wasn’t real-- at least, not entirely.”

“That’s comforting,” Lucy said. “But anyway, you did help. You woke me up when I was about to have a panic attack, or worse. So doesn’t that complete your mission?”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Then how does it work?” she asked, smiling as she walked into the bathroom and scrubbed the grime off her hands. “Do you have to say magic words? Ask me to clap if I believe in you?”

“No.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “You can call me a smartass; I know you were thinking it.”

Instead of answering, he just smiled. She punched him lightly on the shoulder as she moved past him out of the bathroom. “Come on,” she said. “I know you still can’t eat anything, but I’m in the mood for ice cream.” At least, she thought there was a bowl’s worth left. One of them needed to go to the grocery store today. Preferably her sister. And that reminded her. . .

“Now, we need to figure out something very important,” she said, as she opened the freezer, grinning at the sight of the still-present ice cream carton. Jackpot. “How we’re going to tell Amelia about you.”

“Lucy. . .”

“This has to be done right. And preferably when I’m holding a camera. Let’s see-- should you sneak up on her while she’s painting, or . . . oh, I know! When she comes downstairs, you can be standing right next to the picture!”

“I’m not going to tell her that I’m here.”

“What? Oh, come on. You have to; it’s too good to pass up-- and wait. It would help me! She thinks I’ve gone nuts; if she sees you, then she won’t try to put me in the funny farm.”

“She’s not going to try to do that. But it’d be best for all of us if I just stayed hidden for the next couple of days, if I’m even here that long.”

Lucy stared at him, finally realized that he meant it, and sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll let this slide for right now. New rule. We can be serious or angry or whatever in the morning. Right now, nothing annoying. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“I still think you’re crazy,” Lucy said, as she walked towards her bedroom door. They’d talked in the kitchen for a while, and then Evan had gotten worried that Amelia might get up early, so he’d insisted that they come back here. Now it was nearing lunchtime, which meant that if she didn’t go downstairs, Amelia was going to come here. “What are you going to do if she knocks on the door? Hide under the bed?”

“If need be.”

The look in his eyes said that he was kidding, but his voice had been so solemn that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, fine, be weird. If I end up going to the grocery store, I’ll tell you before I leave.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and then she went out into the hall.

When she got downstairs, she found Amelia in the kitchen, searching through the cupboards. “We’re out of bread,” Lucy said. “I already checked.”

Amelia turned, clearly startled. “Hey, you’re actually up before 2:00.”

“I’ve been up for a while, actually. Had a case of insomnia, so I wandered around a bit.”

“Okay. Hope you sleep better tonight.”

“So do I.” If I sleep, she thought. Then she saw a shadow in the doorway, and for an instant she thought that Evan had changed his mind after all.

But when the creature moved into the light, it was all she could do to not pass out right then. Its skin was a sickly pale yellow, and the shape of its head was like a piranha’s. But there wasn’t anything on its head that she was truly focused on-- though the teeth were frighteningly impressive-- she was looking at its hands. The talons masquerading as fingernails looked to be at least a foot long. She tried to say her sister’s name, tried to warn her, but all that came out was a squeak.

“What?” Amelia said, glancing back.

Before Lucy could attempt at saying anything else, the piranha-thing slashed out at Amelia. Its talons went directly through her midsection, leaving no mark. Amelia’s expression didn’t change; she was still staring at her questioningly.

The creature snarled at them, and then the rest of its body slowly faded along with its claws, until it was completely gone.

“Lucy? Hello? Earth to my sister.”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, forcing her voice out of dog-whistle range. “Thought I saw a spider.”

“Okay,” Amelia said. “Anyway, I’m going to the grocery store. You want to come along?”

Her first impulse was to say, ‘yes, pleaseplease take me with you’. Then she realized that the thing had tried to hurt her sister, but had failed, and in all likelihood would fail to hurt her, too. All in all, the house was probably the safest place to be. “Nah,” Lucy said. “I’ll stay just in case mom calls. Granted, she’ll pop some aspirin the second she hears my voice, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“Thank you, I think,” Amelia said, getting her purse. “Be back soon.”

As her sister went to the front door, Lucy wished again that Evan had agreed to the stand-by-the-picture plan. The look on her sister’s face would’ve been priceless.

Then she looked around the kitchen, waiting for the clawed creature to reappear. When a moment passed and there was no sign of it, she called out. “Hey, Evan! My sister’s gone; I’m in the kitchen.”

It was strange actually hearing footsteps from him. She didn’t know what to think about all this, now that the conclusion was so close. Evan had quickly become a friend-- and all right, so she was maybe the slightest bit possibly attracted to him-- and she didn’t want him to go. On the other hand, when he went he was going to close the ‘door’ behind him and make all the other spirits disappear, too, and she couldn’t help but be grateful for that.

And though she liked the idea of her and Evan and her sister all sitting around the kitchen table eating lunch, and she really wanted to see the look on Amelia’s face when she was proven completely wrong, she was secretly more than a little pleased that Evan had decided to ignore the possibility of Amelia’s company during his last days with them.

“Hello again,” she said. “It’s going to be funny to watch you race upstairs when you hear the key in the lock. And I’m glad you’re down here now; you should’ve seen this thing that showed up a minute ago. Yikes.” He didn’t smile, and she moved closer. “You okay?”

“Not really, no. I need to talk to you. I promised I’d explain everything, remember?”

“Of course I remember. And I think you should congratulate me for not bugging you about it earlier.”

“Congratulations,” he said, and she was relieved to see a hint of a smile. “Sit down?”

She nodded, and sat down across from him at the table. “Okay, so what do you want to start with?”

“Remember how I told you that different beings can be called? It’s not because of a curse that I can’t see Rebecca. It’s because I’m not a ghost.”

She raised her eyebrows, and then remembered the other beings he’d mentioned. Angel-- no, he wouldn’t look so depressed about talking to her if he was one of those. That left. . . “Hey, hold on. If you’re about to tell me that you’re a demon, then just stop right now.”

“I’m not a demon,” he said. “I’m a vampire.”

“What?” Lucy exclaimed, leaping up from her chair.

He started to get up, too, and she quickly backed away a few steps, looking behind her to find the spice rack. She opened the container of garlic powder and pitched the contents at him.

Evan raised his eyebrows, and stood up as he brushed the powder off his shirt. “Technically, you’ve already invited me in. That isn’t going to help.”

“Then I’ll go for the knives next time; stay right where you are!”

“Lucy. . .”

“Don’t use that tone on me. Leave!” She turned again, grabbing a container of mustard seeds and dumping them at his feet.

“Let me guess. I have to count the seeds before I move past them?”

Judging by the tone of his voice, that wasn’t going to work, either. Lucy growled a curse and then looked around, wondering if she could break the small kitchen window and fit through it before he got hold of her. Probably not.

“Just listen to me, all right?” he asked, sitting back down. “I’ll even stay right here, if you want.”

“I definitely want,” she said, edging back another step. “Fine. Talk.”

“When you called from this house, I was automatically sent here because it’s my territory.”

“I know, luck of the draw as to what you get,” Lucy said. “I could’ve gotten an actual ghost, I could’ve gotten an angel, but no, I get a vampire. This is exactly why I never play the lottery.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. “And I don’t think you’d be this worried about telling me if you were one of those harmless ‘I eat very rare steak to get my food’ vampires. You’re not here to help me, you’re here to kill me. Correct, or not?”

“Correct,” he whispered. “When a vampire is sent, his or her job is to kill and feed from someone in the place of calling. If that job is not completed, then other things will be sent to do it instead.”

“Hold on a minute,” she said. “Someone from the place? So it doesn’t have to be me, does it? Why didn’t you just kill Elizabeth while she was here? Or I can go walk around on that path until I find that guy again--”

“Not a visitor. Someone who lives here.”

Which left one other option, and Lucy didn’t want to think about that. “So what happens to you?” she asked instead. “If you don’t do it?”

“I go to the realm mortals call Hell until I’m called again.”

“Now there’s a motive I can believe. Is that where you were when I called you?”

“No,” he said. “But I have been there.”

“When?”

“Between my first and second call. I didn’t complete my job, so I left this realm entirely until I was called back.”

“And that time I bet you were all too ready to murder a few people so you’d have it better. This is why you made friends with me? So I’d help you?”

“I only have until tomorrow night. Then--”

“Yeah, I know, you go to Hell. And good. I don’t care.”

“You called me.”

“Not intentionally!”

“You still did.”

“I said go away!”

“I can’t! Not until--”

“What, not until you’ve murdered me?” She cursed again, and dragged a hand through her hair. “This sucks,” she muttered. Then she sighed. “And that was a bad word choice. Why didn’t you just kill me when I first saw you instead of dragging it out like this?”

“I thought it’d be easier if I didn’t just show up and scare you to death. I thought if you understood, you wouldn’t be so frightened.”

“News flash-- I’m not frightened, I am mad.” So much for him not wanting anything from her, she thought bitterly. “What, did you head off every night and snicker because you’d tricked me into liking you?”

“Do you think we change so much after death?” He shook his head. “I knew you’d be angry whatever way I approached all this; I was trying to do the right thing. I wasn’t a monster in life; I don’t like to think that I am one now.”

“Well, I've got some bad news for you, then.” Though he didn’t reply, she could see that she’d affected him with that last remark. Then he got to his feet.

“Be that as it may,” he said, “I have to do what I was sent to do.”

“My first name might be Lucy, pal, but my last name’s not Westenra. So back the hell up.” Then, before he could say anything else, she dodged around him and ran out of the kitchen. “Just stay away from me!” she shrieked, and then she raced upstairs to her room. She slammed the door and then waited, half-expecting him to break it down. But nothing happened; she didn’t even hear footsteps.

A vampire? she thought, slowly walking to the bed and sitting down. No wonder he didn’t want to introduce himself to Amelia. What would he say? ‘Hello, my name is Evan, and I’m here to kill your sister. Nice to meet you.’ That’d go over real well.

She hated crying, but she suddenly found herself doing so anyway. She wished that Evan--

Then she paused, mentally grumbling at herself. She hadn’t been thinking about how she wished Evan was gone, but how she wished he was here. Though her immediate perception of him had changed completely, it was still going to take a while to get used to not automatically thinking of him as her friend.

If he had his way, she’d have eternity to get used to it.

And would that be so bad, really?

The thought startled her, but after a moment’s consideration, she knew that it’d been inevitable. After all, more than once after finishing a vampire novel, she’d wondered about what that might be like-- to never die, be able to watch the world’s progress firsthand instead of just imagining it, stay one age forever. . .

“Right,” she muttered. A neverending life might be cool, but it’d also mean that she’d have to watch everyone else die. Not to mention that there would be no return trips to the city, no more visits with her friends, no chance to do anything she cared about.

Besides, she thought, trying futilely to amuse herself, she refused to consider an afterlife without chocolate. Drinking blood in and of itself seemed revolting enough, but that was just adding insult to injury.

Shaking her head, she got up and paced around the room. If she was going to get out of this alive, she needed a plan. Preferably, said plan would culminate in her and her sister driving away at breakneck speed as this ‘portal’ of a house blew sky-high behind them. Action-movie fantasies aside, though, she had to do something that she dreaded . . . try to talk to Amelia again.

Amelia carried the first few bags of groceries into the house, frowning in confusion when she stepped into the kitchen. She smelled something. Looking around, she saw the powder . . . garlic, from the smell of it . . . and the mustard seeds on the floor.

“What in the world?” she asked quietly, putting the bags down on the table. If Lucy knocked something over, the least she could do was clean it up.

But, since she doubted she’d get an answer if she called upstairs, she’d just take care of it once she finished putting away the groceries. She’d just gotten done stocking the cupboards again when the phone rang. She sighed and put down the washcloth. Getting that stuff off her floor would have to wait another few minutes, obviously.

“Hello?”

“Hi, dear. You feeling better?”

“Much, thankfully. Just one of those one-day colds, I guess.”

“Glad to hear it. How’s the house coming?”

“Good.” Except for being decorated in spices. “Finished getting another room painted yesterday.” “I’m sure it’ll look wonderful once you’re done. You know, instead of you two coming back up here, maybe . . . maybe I’ll come visit you.”

Amelia grinned. It was the first time her mother had ever clearly approved of her decision so much as to suggest that. “Thanks, mom. That’d be perfect.”

“Lucy might not think so. How’s she doing?”

“All right. I’ll tell her you said hi.”

“Thank you. And I’ll talk to you again soon. Take care of yourself.”

“Always.”

She hung up, and then went into the kitchen and cleaned up the mess. She got up and started to rinse out the washcloth, and then just threw it away. She’d probably never get the smell out anyway, no matter how much soap she used. Then she heard Lucy run down the stairs, and sighed. Either she was hyper, or she was mad.

Or she was panicky, she thought, as her sister barreled into the kitchen.

“Oh good, he’s not here,” she said, and Amelia knew she was in trouble.

“What now?” she asked.

“Not a good time to start the cynic routine,” Lucy said. “Trust me. Okay, here’s the situation-- Evan’s materialized. That means you can see him, even though you don’t believe in him. We just have to find wherever he’s hiding. C’mon, search the house with me. Then you’ll believe me, and we can get out of here.”

“I am not wasting my time searching the house for your little ghost friend.”

“That’s just it; he’s not a ghost. We talked while you were at the grocery store. He’s actually a vampire. See, one of the first nights I was here I called for help and accidentally called him; now if he doesn’t kill me then one of his supernatural freakshow friends is going to do it, and . . . and you aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

“I’m listening,” she said. Now, unfortunately, she understood the reason for the garlic powder. “And I admit that you live in a very interesting fantasy world.”

“It’s not a--”

“Look, would you like to see somebody? I can find a doctor for you.”

“It’s not fantasy and I’m definitely not nuts!”

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?”

“You’re supposed to at least try and believe me!”

“You’re talking about a fictional creature!”

“No, I’m not! You have any idea how long stories about them have been around, and in how many cultures? You think that was just all magically created, when they all have so many things in common?”

“Even if they were real, you said it yourself. He . . . he hung himself. Nothing killed him. So this is--”

“-- perfectly explainable! Look, vampire lore has it that people who kill themselves are at risk for becoming vampires. Because taking your own life offends God or something, so the punishment is. . .”

“Look, it’s nice that you’ve thought out your latest trick so thoroughly, but enough is enough.”

What was the point? Lucy thought. She was in this alone; she’d known it even as she’d run down the stairs to try one more time. “You know what?” she said. “You’re right. At first I was just trying to bug you, and then I decided to go with what you suggested, and find a profession-- or at least a hobby. I’m working on a scary book. I was just trying to get some research out of your reactions. Sorry.”

Leave it to her sister to try and drive her insane in the process of taking her advice, Amelia thought. “Okay. I’m very glad that’s finally out in the open.”

“But I do want to head into a bigger town and buy some vampire repellent stuff tomorrow. So I can write about the process.”

“If that’s how you want to spend the money mom gave you, fine.” So this was how she was planning to get into the city this time, Amelia thought, but found that she didn’t even care anymore. If she wanted to get out of here so badly for a day, then let her.

“It definitely is,” Lucy said. Then she put on a bright smile. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“You are capable of cooking, you know.”

“Yeah, but be nice. Pretend it’s my last meal or something and do me a favor.”

“You are such a slug. A morbid slug,” Amelia said, getting out her recipe book.

“I love you, too, sis.”

“You look like a Fourth of July parade gone very, very wrong.”

“What?” Lucy asked, looking down at her outfit. She’d searched through her closet for anything red or blue that she could find-- and was therefore wearing a blue shirt, red shorts, pale blue socks, and her hair was tied back with a red, white, and blue scrunchie. “Red and blue are both traditionally colors that repel evil spirits, including vampires. I’m just trying to get into character here.”

“Well, then I guess you’ve succeeded,” Amelia said. “Sorry my car’s not red or blue; then you’d match.”

“Hey, can’t have everything,” she said, grabbing the car keys.

“Don’t you want breakfast?”

“No, no, that’s fine. I just want to get out and then get back, you know?” Actually, she just wanted to get out of this house, period. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something incredibly bad was going to happen, and soon. While she didn’t want to be here at all for that, she especially didn’t want to be unprepared. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Amelia said, frowning when her sister ran out to the car, and then checked underneath it and in the backseat before climbing in. Granted, the incidents with Elizabeth had disturbed her, too, but there was such a thing as being too paranoid.

Lucy sighed with relief as she started the car and headed off down the road. For the first time since yesterday morning, she felt safe. A small part of her worried about Amelia, but she tamped down on it almost without thinking. After all, Amelia hadn’t wanted to come with her, and she doubted she could convince her.

Given that, maybe she shouldn’t go back at all. No law saying that she had to. She could drive to town and stay there. Rent a hotel room. Get a few movies and order a pizza, act like a normal human being again instead of some currently-colorblind version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Then she shook her head. She couldn’t do that. She had to figure out how to get rid of Evan. He was the one who’d been called, so it made sense that if he was killed, then his mission would be rendered moot and the doorway would close again.

She’d stayed up all night, going through her books and trying to find any advice about how to get rid of a vampire. She’d found that the colors red and blue were protective ones, she’d put her shoes beside her bed and pointed them at the door in another folklore-protection attempt, and now she was going to go find some more traditional repellents. Namely, crucifixes. And a lot of them.

She’d thought about going into a church and taking some holy water, but had been stopped by two things. First off, the Law of Irony stated that she’d probably get arrested or something dumb like that, and secondly, she’d never really believed in God. So even though the water was apparently blessed, would it do any good if she didn’t believe it was anything more than tap water in a pretty bowl?

But then, crucifixes operated on the same principle as holy water, really, and--

“Cut it out,” she muttered. Now was so very much not the time to start doubting the only real means of battle that she had.

When she got to town, she almost wanted to cry again. She’d thought that when she finally got back to a place with an actual mall she’d be overjoyed, and her sister would be sitting next to her making cheerfully snide remarks. But she couldn’t manage even a little bit of happiness.

Maybe she’d get lucky. Maybe she’d go home, and Evan would be sitting in the front room with Amelia, and when she walked in he’d laugh and say, ‘look at all the crosses she bought! Told you I’d fooled her’, and both of them would crack up and she’d threaten their lives but then everything would be fine.

Yeah. And maybe her mother would call her up and reveal that she’d always been her favorite child.

She drove out of town hours later, having stopped at the mall, a hardware store, and a grocery store. Her sister’s car was going to smell like garlic for months, but hopefully it’d be worth it. After all, maybe Evan had been lying about garlic not working. Maybe the truth was, ‘a small amount of old garlic powder isn’t effective’.

She hoped.

In the trunk was the one thing she’d hesitated about buying-- a pointed wooden fencepost. Lucy knew that however much it disgusted her, she’d still borrow her sister’s hammer when she got home, just in case. Maybe if Evan thought she’d actually do it, he’d leave without a fight. Again, she hoped.

If he left, though, that might not be enough to make the doors close. She might have to actually kill him, even if she didn’t want to.

He’s perfectly willing to take your life, she thought. Just keep remembering that.

Right now, though, it was the last thing she wanted to concentrate on. And fortunately, not all of her other purchases were as inherently gruesome as the stake. Glancing down, she remembered the look on the clerk’s face as she’d bought the boutique’s entire collection of crucifix-pendant necklaces.

“What are you doing?” she’d asked, her voice an amused chirp. “Getting ready to hunt some vampires?”

Lucy had debated on the benefits of strangling her with one of the necklaces, and then had reluctantly decided to let her live.

She turned another corner, and looked at the sky. She’d be home before sundown-- good. It’d give her some time to prepare. Then she rolled her eyes at herself. Evan had walked around plenty of times in daylight. Whether the sun was up or down obviously didn’t matter to him.

And considering that, would the crucifixes or garlic matter?

Well, if they wouldn’t, she thought darkly, then the stake would have to.

“Lucy, what in the world are you-- oh, you had that in my car?” Amelia asked, when she saw the bulbs of garlic her sister was carrying.

“Hey, I would’ve taken mine but, surprise, mom wouldn’t let me keep it.”

“Yuck,” Amelia muttered, making a mental note to buy a lot of air freshener soon. “By the way, if your neck breaks under the weight of all those necklaces, I take no blame for it.”

“Gotcha,” Lucy said, heading upstairs, looking around warily for Evan as she took most of the supplies into her room. Fortunately, he wasn’t anywhere in sight. Or maybe that was ‘unfortunately’. It’d probably be better if she knew where he was.

Never mind, she thought, hurrying back downstairs and outside.

“You bought more?” Amelia asked, moving out onto the porch.

“Yep!” Lucy said, picking up the stake and going toward the house again. She was almost to the porch when she realized she’d left the trunk open. “Can you shut that for me?”

“Sure,” Amelia said, eyeing the stake nervously. “Tell me you’re not going to stab something with that.”

Well, I hope I don’t have to, Lucy thought, keeping her voice light. “Nah. But since my main character’s a vampire hunter, I thought I should have it around. By the way, can I borrow your hammer?”

“Okay,” Amelia said. She walked over to the car and closed the trunk, then followed her sister inside. Granted, this was more than a little weird, but at least she seemed happy.

“Thanks,” Lucy said.

When Amelia finally found the hammer and went upstairs, she saw the stake resting on the bed, and Lucy setting garlic bulbs all over the floor. “You do know that your room is going to stink forever?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. If it gets too bad I’ll just spend time in one of the other bedrooms for a while.”

“Okay. And I’m surprised you didn’t bring any mirrors. Seems they’re always mentioned in vampire--”

“No mirrors.”

“Oh yeah,” Amelia said. “Probably is best to keep you away from those.”

“Yeah. Anyway, thanks-- and now I’m going to try and get some work done. Could you do me one more favor?”

“What?”

“Stay downstairs for a while? Or at least don’t come in here. I’m going to be rehearsing possible scenes and coming up with dialogue and whatnot, so it might get pretty loud.”

“Sure, I’ll stay out,” Amelia said. “After you eat dinner.”

“What? Amelia--”

“Don’t argue with me. The whole ‘starving artist’ thing is overrated. Come on.”

Knowing that she wouldn’t get a moment’s peace if she didn’t listen, Lucy followed her sister downstairs.

She was halfway through her meal before she realized that she should’ve at least brought the stake with her. She nearly groaned. Great. She’d probably go back upstairs and find Evan holding the stake, asking her what she was planning to do with this.

If he didn’t just throw it at her right away or something. Weren’t vampires supposed to be extraordinarily strong?

It didn’t matter now, she thought, taking another bite. Either he’d be in her room or he wouldn’t; she had to go back there regardless.

“Well, thanks for dinner,” Lucy said, pausing at the foot of the stairs. “See . . . see you later.”

“Mm-hmm,” Amelia said, looking through paint swatches. “You think the main room should be pale blue or pale green?”

“Neon yellow.”

Amelia smiled. “You’re not helpful.”

“Of course not. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Lucy headed up the stairs, feeling disturbingly like she should be wearing handcuffs and have a hood over her head.

She didn’t find Evan in the hall, and he wasn’t in her room, either. Sitting down on the bed, she reluctantly picked up the stake and the hammer. Now, she supposed, all she could do was wait.

She didn’t have to wait long. Ten minutes after she sat down, Evan opened the door. “Well,” she said pleasantly. “Nice to see that you can’t just float through walls anymore.”

“What is that?” he asked, looking at the stake in her hands. Judging by his tone, she was certain that he knew exactly what it was-- it just sounded like he couldn’t believe she was holding one.

“Considering what you are, I’d think you could recognize one immediately. And if you come too close to me, I’m going to use it.”

She hated the words, hated making herself sound like she meant them, hated seeing the look on his face as he took them in.

No. Whether he was upset about them or not didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting him out of here. She almost wouldn’t mind if he just left and let something else come through the doorway; it’d have to be better than having someone she cared about trying to kill her.

“You need to understand,” Evan said. “I’m looking forward to this about as much as you are.”

“Right. Who else have you killed?”

“What?”

“You heard me. Who else have you killed?”

He sighed, and leaned against the door. “Three people. One directly, two . . . indirectly.”

“What does that mean?”

“The first time I was called back, I couldn’t do what I needed to. And something else came through from my side. There were two people living in this house then. Newlyweds.”

“Shawn and Beverly.”

“Yes. After an argument, he asked for help. They were both killed a week later. The second time I was called, it was by Elizabeth’s sister.”

“Not the one named Amelia.”

“No. Her name was Clara. She was very sick, close to dying, and she was frightened. I talked to her, told her that in a few moments it’d be over. She seemed relieved. But when she came over to this side, she left. I have no idea where she is.”

“But if you’re both vampires, then why isn’t she bound here, too?”

“She was made one by another vampire, and so she’s freer to roam. I turned myself into one with my suicide. There are restrictions when that happens.”

“Obviously,” she said. “So, what is it like? Being a vampire? And that was not a request for firsthand experience!” she added quickly.

He shook his head at the last remark, and then spoke. “Well, we don’t have to attack people all the time. These movies you watch make it seem like if we don’t kill someone every night, we evaporate. Not true. We need food sometimes, of course, but there’s no need to go around terrorizing the countryside.”

“Then you bring out the angry villagers with stakes, right?”

“Exactly. We can see other vampires, and demons. Once in a while we can see angels, if they try to make themselves visible to us. We can’t see ghosts.”

“So I noticed. And speaking of seeing things, I want to see your fangs.”

“Why?”

“Because this little irritating part of me keeps insisting that you’re playing a joke,” she said. “That my sister actually can see you, and the two of you came up with this so she could get me back for all the lies I’ve told. So come on.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh, what’s the matter? You have a problem with showing what you actually look like?”

“I already showed what I looked like. To the man on the trail.”

“So that’s what happened. Now show me.” He didn’t answer her, and she pressed on. “C’mon, it’s not like I can’t guess what you’ll look like. I’ve seen movies, remember?”

Still nothing. He was just staring at her, his arms crossed.

“Won’t grant a condemned girl one last request? So you’re fine with killing me, but smiling for two seconds is out of the question? I get it. Come on,” she said, nearly yelling now. “If you’re not lying to me then you can prove it!”

Then suddenly he did prove it, and Lucy jerked back, nearly tumbling off the bed.

“Jesus!” she yelped. The fangs seemed to transform his entire face, for the first time making him into the monster she’d called him. It was also the first time in weeks that she’d truly been scared of him.

Then the fangs disappeared, and her friend-- former friend-- was back.

“You wanted to see,” he said quietly, and even though Lucy knew it was ridiculous, a part of her felt sorry for him.

Then she dismissed her softer feelings and edged further away. “Yeah, I did,” she answered. “And now you know what I want to see? You walking out that door.”

“I can’t do that, and you know it. There’s no other choice here.”

“Oh, yes there is,” she said, holding up the hammer. “Staking you. Now, where’s your body buried, or would hitting your current form work?”

He laughed. “And I’m supposed to tell you?”

She glared at him again, and then the floor rattled, making them both jump.

“I don’t have much time,” he said. “Neither do you. Everything from my realm doesn’t try to come out every time someone calls-- most people call from densely populated areas, a swarm of creatures would be seen and there’d be questions. But deserted places like this? They love them.”

She wanted to shriek at him, wanted to argue and say she didn’t believe him, didn’t believe that anything would happen if he didn’t take her with him when he left. Then she remembered something. “There’s still another way.”

“What?”

“You said you have to kill ‘someone in the place of calling’. Someone who lives here. And I’m not the only one in this house, now am I?”

“You would do that?”

“Do what?” she asked, the normal sarcasm coming fully back into her tone when she saw the look on his face. It was impassive again now, but for an instant he’d looked horrified. So she merited a little, ‘oh well, but it has to be done’ sadness, but her sister inspired full-out grief? Fine. Then between the two of them, let him take the one who’d actually make him suffer for this, too.

“Put her in your chosen place.”

“The only one who ‘chose’ was you, jerk. So yeah. She’ll probably agree no problem. Got this huge martyr complex.” Exactly, she thought. Let Amelia deal with this. It was about time she accepted the truth, anyway. And it wasn’t like she had much to do in this realm. Work on this house, and what else? She smirked, warming to the idea. “But don’t take my word for it. Why don’t you talk to her?”

Amelia wandered around the house, double-checking the color schemes she’d planned on for each room and refiguring her notes on how much paint she needed to buy.

Then she went into one of the rooms she’d already painted, and shook her head at herself as she started to leave. Before she left, she glanced up, and saw something that seemed to nail her feet to the floor.

The pentagram drawing. It was back on the ceiling.

But not in a way that suggested someone had come back in and repainted it. As she watched, the red paint actually seemed to be bleeding through the color she’d put over it. Some of it dripped down, landing on her arm.

It wasn’t paint. It burned her skin, and she shrieked and quickly brushed it away, rubbing at the shallow wound. Then she looked up again as the drawing came even further out from the wall, and the painted eyes seemed to take on malevolent life, glaring at her.

She tried to scream, but all that came out was a terrified whimper as she pressed back against the wall, telling herself repeatedly that it was just some kind of waking nightmare.

Then the floor rattled, nearly making her lose her balance, and that snapped her out of the trance. She ran out of the room, slamming the door.

Once out of sight of it, she calmed down slightly.

Just your imagination, she thought. Too much work and too many late nights. That’s all it was. It definitely wasn’t real, wasn’t that her sister had been right about any of it. She couldn’t have been. She’d admitted that it was all just a hoax, and--

Or had she just said that because she’d given up on trying to convince her of anything else?

No. She didn’t believe her. Didn’t.

But what about that burn on her arm from the ‘paint’?

And she kept remembering things. The feeling that she was being watched when she was working, that quiet laugh she thought she’d heard while she’d danced, hearing her sister’s voice coming from the living room and thinking for a moment she was talking to someone else before realizing she must be commenting at characters on the TV again.

Even without the actual, tangible memories, there were the dreams.

It wasn’t real, she told herself fiercely. None of it. That was impossible, and--

Then she heard her sister scream her name, no joking in her voice, only panic. And suddenly the impossible seemed very real.

As she ran upstairs, Amelia imagined that she could actually feel tiny pieces of her sanity flaking away as she pictured what she might find in Lucy’s room.

Then she threw open the door. The man from the photograph-- Evan-- was standing a few feet away from her sister’s bed. He was wearing a white shirt and black slacks, and he had a beard. None of those three things were true of the photograph. But they were what Lucy had described, what she’d seen in her dreams. Dreams that hadn’t actually been dreams at all. Lucy was standing on the bed itself, near the head of it, brandishing the fencepost and hammer.

“Oh my god,” she whispered.

“About time you got here,” Lucy said. “Amelia, meet Evan. Evan, I know you’ve already met my sister. This is our local vampire,” she said sarcastically. “Go ahead. Show her your fangs.”

He shook his head, and instead levitated about a foot off the ground, making Lucy raise the hammer defensively again. He looked over at her, and slowly descended back to the floor.

“You’re real,” Amelia managed, once she finally found her voice again.

He nodded. “I’ve tried to contact you, but. . .” Then he glanced over at Lucy when she climbed off the bed, his expression darkening.

“Stay back,” Lucy ordered, waving the stake again. Maybe her sister was stupid enough to forget that he was a vampire, but she wasn’t. And damned if she was going to stay cornered like she had been a moment ago. “Yes, he’s real. Glad you finally caught up with the rest of us. Now, remember that little chat we had? About what he is?”

Amelia looked to Evan. “That’s true?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, so you won’t take my word for it even now? Great.”

Amelia stared at the two of them for a moment longer-- Lucy looking aggravated and scared, and Evan looking more than slightly hostile as he watched her-- and then spoke. “Leave her alone. Lucy, get out of here.”

Lucy laughed quietly. “See? I told you.”

“What?” Amelia asked, wondering if her sister was close to hysteria. She shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this.

“Never mind.”

Then the floor shook, harder this time, sending Lucy tumbling to the floor and making Amelia fall back against the doorjamb. Evan hovered off the ground, avoiding the problem.

Lucy started to grab the stake and the hammer that she’d dropped, and instead just backed further away from Evan. Then her attention went to the ceiling as it curved inwards again, nearly touching the top of her dresser before it slowly creaked back into place.

This was worse than that nightmare-vision she’d had. Far worse. Now she knew that there was no possibility this was a dream, knew that any second if she didn’t get out of here Evan might turn on her, knew that something else might break the door down or just come right through the ceiling.

She bit her lip hard, trying to keep from either crying or screaming. She rested a hand on the bedpost, tightening it hard, trying to tell herself that leaping out the window was not a good idea.

If she went out the door now, Evan might follow. She had to wait just a few seconds longer; Amelia was struggling to get to her feet and if she didn’t change her mind then she knew Evan wouldn’t follow, he wouldn’t tick off Saint Amelia like that, he’d stay in here and then she’d be safe, if Amelia would just talk--

Then she did more than talk. She opened the door and stood off to the side of it.

“Sis, I mean it,” Amelia said. “Go.”

Lucy started to move forward, and then she froze as she heard laughter coming from downstairs. A moment later, loud, clicking footsteps joined the sound. It sounded like something was walking in very sharp shoes. Or like something with hoofs.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. She at least had a chance of hiding from whatever that was.

“It’ll go away once the job’s done,” Lucy said, meeting Amelia’s eyes. Then she scrambled to the door and glanced back at Evan. “So hurry up,” she said, and then she was in the hall.

Amelia shut the door, and quickly turned the lock.

“You honestly think she’ll try to come back in?” Evan asked.

“Yes,” Amelia said, thinking of the garlic powder in the kitchen, and all the precautions in this room. Lucy was probably racing downstairs right now, trying to get past whatever was lurking there to some secret weapon she’d hidden in the car.

Or, if she was smart, she was finding a good hiding place. She’d been making her usual acidic remarks a moment ago, but there had been a waver to her voice, and the panic in her eyes was something Amelia hoped she’d never have to see again. Judging from what Lucy had said was necessary, she really wouldn’t see it again.

“Are you sure you can’t just leave?” she asked hurriedly, as he walked closer to her.

“If I could do that, I would,” he said, and even though she had no good reason to believe those words, somehow she did.

“So she-- she really wasn’t lying?” Amelia asked, stepping back away from him again. “About any of it? What she saw on the trail, the lake, the Ouija board?”

“No. You just weren’t at a point where you could see yet. At least not when you were awake.”

“I did dream about you,” she admitted. “I dreamed that we talked. Why would you do that? If you were just going to--”

Then a multitude of fists seemed to start pounding on the wall to their right, and Amelia let out a little shriek as she jumped away.

“I don’t have any choice about killing someone when I come here,” he said. “My only choice now is who. I can still go find--”

“No!” she said, quickly moving back in front of the door. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“All right. And after . . . this, those things will leave?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she muttered. “Just get it over with quickly, please, because I almost had a panic attack when I stabbed my thumb once and that was just with a needle, I--” Then her voice seemed to disappear entirely when she looked at the wall and saw faces imprinted on it, glaring, screaming faces that seemed to be trying to push themselves out of the wall.

Then Evan was in front of her, partially blocking her view of them. He rested his palm against her cheek, and for an instant she remembered her dreams and felt calm again, until she looked past him and saw the faces.

“Close your eyes.”

She did so, grateful to at least break the sight of the things on the wall, if not the sound of their furious shrieks and the laughter of the hoofed thing downstairs.

Then his mouth touched her neck, and she only had time for a worried murmur before the light touch turned into a sting that drove a bolt of pain through her entire body. She gritted her teeth and tried to pull away, but his arms went around her, holding her in place.

She remembered the man in New York City who’d held a knife on her, remembered how terrified she’d been then; her hands had been trembling as she’d taken the money out of her purse. She’d thought then that she didn’t want to die. Now she knew that she was going to.

She also knew that she’d never get to say goodbye to her mother; she wanted to call Karina and tell her that she was sorry, she understood she’d been trying to avoid hurting her; she wanted to tell her sister that she was sorry she hadn’t listened to her sooner.

Then the pain faded, leaving her lightheaded. And though she wasn’t sure when it had happened, she realized that her hands-- which had grabbed fistfuls of his shirt when he’d bitten her-- were now pulling him closer to her, not pushing him away.

Lucy sat out in the hallway close to the door, listening to the sounds from downstairs. She was tempted to run to the attic, but since that thing seemed content to stay down there for the time being, she decided it was better to be quiet and wait.

Besides, she couldn’t seem to move. Every time she started to get up, a new wave of panic crashed into her, holding her in place. She didn’t know what was downstairs, didn’t know what was going on in her room, and--

No, she knew exactly what was going on in there.

And it was preferable to the alternative, she thought desperately. She had things to do here. If Amelia had chosen to stay, then fine. Meanwhile, her choice was to remain in the actual world.

Then she sniffed the air and made a face. She didn’t know what that smell was, but it reminded her of rotten eggs. And it was definitely strong, seeing as it was even overpowering the scent of garlic coming from her room.

That was when she stopped focusing on her sense of smell and switched to her sense of hearing, instead. Footsteps. Coming up the stairs, and fast.

She held back a scream as she turned and ran for the attic. Even as she ran, she knew she’d never make it, and she glanced back to see a horned creature with fire for eyes and pointed teeth rushing at her, and she screamed and fell back--

And then it was gone. The house was silent again: no screaming, no pounding, no footsteps. The floors weren’t rattling, and the only smell was that of garlic.

Lucy sat on the floor, shaking, and then smiling as she realized that it was finished. The door was closed again, and she was finally safe.

Her smile faded when she looked back toward her bedroom door.

Yes, her sister had made her own choice . . . but it wouldn’t have been a choice at all if she hadn’t called her upstairs. She’d done more than suggest her as an alternative; she’d all but dragged her into the room and shoved her at Evan. Now she was--

No! She was fine. Maybe there’d been another way to finish all this that Evan hadn’t told her about. He’d just been testing her. That was all. And she’d failed that test, yes, but surely he’d forgive her. And so would Amelia.

She slowly got to her feet and walked to her bedroom door. “Amelia?” she called. “Evan?” No answer. “Not funny, guys,” she called, hating the frantic tone of her voice. “C’mon, I know you’re both in there.”

Still no answer.

She tried to turn the doorknob, and found that it wouldn’t budge. Of course. Her sister had locked the door. Amelia had had to kick it in once when she’d needed help, and now it was her turn.

Fine. No problem.

Her first kick just managed to hurt her foot. Her second one opened the door, and it was all she could do to not scrunch her eyes shut as the door swung inward.

No need to close her eyes, she thought, and now the desperation had infected her thoughts as well as her voice. No need, because there was nothing to hide from. They were both fine.

Then she saw the lifeless, too-pale body of her sister lying on the floor of her room, and realized exactly what she’d done.

The phone kept ringing, but Lucy barely heard it.

When her mother had called day before yesterday, she’d answered. She’d used her lying skills to sound fine, to tell her mother that Amelia’s cold had come back and she was sleeping it off. She wondered what would’ve happened if she’d told her mother the truth. That she’d just finished dragging her sister’s body to her own room, and placing an old picture next to her. Nicole probably would’ve told her to quit making up gruesome stories.

Lucy couldn’t even manage her usual sarcastic smile at the thought. Instead, she paced around her room for a minute more, and then sat down in front of her window.

She’d barely eaten. She’d had a couple of glasses of water, and on the few times she’d ventured into a bathroom, she’d been very careful not to look in the mirror.

Mostly, she stared out this window, looking out at the trees and remembering.

She’d been thinking about the wrong stories. Right after she’d discovered the truth about Evan, she’d thought of all the tales with ‘never trust a stranger’ as the moral, or the short stories that emphasized ‘legends about vampires aren’t necessarily true’. But she should’ve remembered the ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’ books.

She’d thrown away her only actual friends. Amelia had put up with a lot to try and help her, and Evan had been trying to make things easier for her, too; she could recognize that now. Too bad that recognition didn’t do any good.

Well, at least now she could get on to the important things, she thought mockingly. The car was hers. If she wanted, she could head off and just disappear.

But she could barely leave this room, much less the house.

When she slept, and that had been often over these past few days, she always dreamed. She’d grown used to dreaming about Evan-- if not fully used to admitting it-- but the dreams were different now. Amelia was there.

The first dream had been after she’d cried herself to sleep out in the hallway.

Amelia had been the first one to appear, only a pale silhouette showing, her voice irritated.

“I can’t really see her. I know she’s there, but I--”

“That’s the way it works,” Evan said, fading in beside her. “Until we’re called, we can’t see.”

“Perfect. And am I the one who’s going to get ‘called’ next time? Since I was the latest owner of the house?”

“Not necessarily.”

“I can’t believe this,” she said, turning away from them. “I can’t even talk to her. And this is going to break mom’s heart. What is Lucy going to tell her, anyway? That I had a stroke?”

Evan started to move closer to her, and Amelia jerked away, going over and leaning against the wall. She stumbled when she started to go right through it, and then cursed. “I hate this!”

“You just need more time,” Evan told her. “You’ll get used to--”

“I don’t want to get used to it! Especially not here! I feel like I’m an intruder in my own home! Can I leave, or are sandworms going to eat me as soon as I step outside?”

“Sandworms?”

“Never mind. Can I leave?”

Lucy hadn’t been able to see his face, but she didn’t need to. She knew that he was thinking about telling her that no, she couldn’t, that it was dangerous to go. Instead, he just nodded.

“Good,” she said, and then she went downstairs.

Evan sighed and sat down next to her, and Lucy tried to say something, tried to say that she was sorry and she’d take it back if she could and could he please tell her sister the same thing if he ever saw her again.

But she couldn’t speak, and she just silently watched as he walked away, too.

Then, even though she was still in the upstairs hallway, she could see the main room as Evan walked into it, and as he walked by her she saw that her sister was there, too.

“Changed my mind,” Amelia said quietly, as Evan smiled. “Though I wish I could at least work my CD player.”

The next dreams, Lucy couldn’t remember quite so clearly-- probably because the hunger was getting to her by then. She knew that Evan and her sister had talked instead of argued, knew that they’d discussed her at points, knew also that she hadn’t been the main focus of their talks.

In the latest dream, they hadn’t been in the house. They’d been in the woods, walking along the same path that they’d all followed once, on the day Amelia had made a picnic lunch. And it was the same now as it had been that day-- no demons, no out-of-place laughter. Just conversation, only now she was the one who followed unseen, not Evan.

She’d woken up, nearly in tears, and it had irritated her that she wasn’t entirely sure if she’d wanted to cry out of jealousy or happiness. She was almost certain that she hadn’t gone insane; that the dreams were showing her what was happening now that she couldn’t see Evan or Amelia anymore.

If she stayed here much longer, she was sure that she’d watch one of those conversations end in a kiss someday. If Amelia gave herself the chance, she could probably grow to care for Evan, even love him.

After all, as Evan had said once, she and her sister had a lot in common.

Lucy closed her eyes for a moment, and then she got to her feet and went downstairs. The phone had stopped ringing. Lucy didn’t even look at it as she walked by. She simply crouched down in front of her sister’s CD player and looked inside. Seeing that one of Amelia’s favorite CDs was still in there, Lucy smiled and pushed play, setting the disc on repeat.

She’d thought about using the wooden stake on her sister’s body. Keeping her from becoming a vampire. Then she’d had the dreams, and decided against it. At least her sister was still around somehow. Staking the body might be a good thing to do . . . but then again, she didn’t know very many of the ‘rules’ that Evan had mentioned. Maybe staking her would inadvertently make things worse. And she’d already done far too much of that.

Trying to block the bitter thoughts, at least for another few moments, she went back upstairs, to her window. Maybe it wasn’t too late. There was a chance that they hadn’t given up yet, that they were still listening to her.

“Somebody help,” she said quietly, clenching her hands into fists as she continued to repeat the words she’d said nearly a month ago now. “I don’t know what to do with myself anymore and I . . . just, help.”

She remembered what Evan had told her about how the portal between her world and his would still be weak. Knew that even if he or her sister could get to her first, they might not want to try after what she’d done. Honestly, she wouldn’t blame either one of them. But she still hoped.

She repeated the words quietly, again and again, until finally she fell silent and waited, wishing that she’d hear her sister’s or Evan’s voice.

There was only the music, and she wondered what the town gossips would make of this one, if her plan worked. Amelia’s body laid out carefully on her bed, a picture of the house’s first owner and his wife set down next to her. Her own body lying here. There’d be no one to arrange it or put a memento in her arms, but that was all right. More fuel for the story-mill, she was certain. Francis would add it to his list of stories to tell newcomers, and Sophia would come to terms with the fact that something horrible had once again happened to the people living in this house.

Then she heard footsteps on the stairs, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. She froze, her eyes locked on the window, barely breathing as she waited to hear that crazed laugh.

Nothing came, but she didn’t know if that was because that thing was there, trying to give her a false sense of security, or because one of the people she wanted to see was searching for her.

There could be footsteps if one of them were here, she told herself. After all, there was no pretending to do now. The one who’d shown up could just materialize and take her this time, and then she’d get another chance.

This time she wouldn’t waste it. She’d promise that to anyone, even to her mother, and mean it. Then she realized how precisely this matched the scene she’d witnessed in the mirror, and remembered the old legend about how looking at your reflection in the dark could cause a vision of your own death.

That was fine, she thought. She’d known what she was calling down. Just so long as she could be with them afterwards.

When she heard the door creak open, her paralysis faded.

She turned around.