Jonathan cleared his throat. “Actually, Dess, it’s not just a European thing. You know the Day of the Dead down in Mexico? Even though it’s the same day as All Hallows’ Eve, the natives already had a holiday around then.”

Rex nodded. “And some Native Americans had festivals celebrating the Old Crone around this time.”

Dess laughed. “Excuse me, Rex. The Old Crone?” She looked around at the others. “And what were those other ones? Shadowfest? Death of the Sun? Dawn of the Dead? Is it just me, or do all these holidays have a trying-too-hard-to-be-creepy ring to them?”

“Of course they do,” Rex said, his scary mask unruffled by her teasing. “Look at the bare trees outside, the gray sky, the dead grass everywhere. The word Samhain is Celtic for ‘summer’s end.’ The beginning of winter.” Suddenly Rex’s voice sounded dry, like he’d been out in the desert without water for a few days. “The dying of the light, when warmth turns to cold.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, even Melissa looking a little spooked by Rex. Jonathan heard a creaking noise above his head. So Madeleine was here. But why was she hiding upstairs?

He glanced at Melissa, wondering what exactly had happened between the three of them the night before.

Dess broke the mood, letting out an exasperated breath. “This isn’t about spooks and ghosts, Rex, it’s about numbers. The eleventh month plus one is twelve. That’s all it is.”

Jonathan frowned. Back in Philadelphia, his mother had always taken him to church on All Hallows’ Eve. Even the Catholic version of Samhain had given him the willies.

“So tell us, Rex,” he said. “Way back when, before Halloween got all cutesy, what was the point of Samhain?”

“Well, believe it or not, people did wear costumes,” Rex said. “But the most important ritual was building bonfires. They burned everything they could, even the bones of their slaughtered cattle, hoping to drive away the night for a little while longer. Of course, they knew winter was going to win sooner or later. Samhain recognizes the coming of darkness.”

“Hey,” Dess said. “Now there’s a snappy greeting card: ‘Hope that you and yours have a lovely coming of darkness.’”

“I agree,” Rex said. “It doesn’t seem like the best time of year for a holiday. But for some reason, the coming of darkness wasn’t a bad thing.”

“Like I said, it’s a goth holiday,” Dess muttered.

“Yet during all of recorded history, it was a time of celebration,” Rex continued. “But what were they celebrating? Think about it. Back then winter must have been a pretty scary time of year.”

“Because everyone starved?” Jonathan said.

Rex’s face curled into something resembling a smile. “Everyone but the darklings. Remember, even before the secret hour was created, darklings hunted at night. In winter, nights get longer and longer. So originally those bonfires weren’t symbolic; they were designed to keep the predators away for as long as possible.”

The rapturous expression on Rex’s face made Jonathan shiver; his eyelids were fluttering, as if he was mainlining darkling memories. Jessica reached over and squeezed Jonathan’s hand beneath the table.