The driveway was hard on Margot’s feet. She stepped off it and exhaled as cool grass pressed against her soles. Kant stayed on the drive. The harder ground had to be easier on his own feet. He moved closer to the edge, though, so they wouldn’t be so far apart.

“Ah—” Something rose up from Margot’s memories. “I tried to call the police last night. I didn’t have the address, but I told them I was at Gallows Hill. Will…will that cause problems?”

“No. If a call is made, it will be routed to the local police station, and they’ll dismiss it without response. They only come if—” He caught himself, eyebrows lowering.

“Kant?”

“Well, if there’s been a death. That’s the only thing they’ll come for these days.”

“Right.” Margot swallowed, trying to take that fact in stride.

They said the curse will get worse after we’ve talked about it. That tonight will be bad.

She realized she was facing the very real possibility that this might be her last day alive. That, by morning, the local funeral home might be receiving a call to pick up her body, just like they’d done with her parents.

“I…I need to understand this. You need to tell me everything you know. What makes it worse. What will keep us safe. Please, I—”

“Soon.” He sighed, and the sigh was tinged with heavy sadness. “You only had a few hours of sleep last night. Rest first, then we’ll help you form a plan to get through tonight.”

She nodded mutely. They were approaching the employee buildings. Voices rose in the distance, calling instructions, then breaking into laughter.

For the staff, it was business as usual. Kant had said that the seasonal employees didn’t know about the curse. That, to them, this was just another job, one that would eventually fall into the back of their memories once they moved on, all but forgotten.

“Will you sleep here or back at the house?” Kant asked.

Her feet were sore. Her arm ached. And Kant was right: the exhaustion weighed heavily on her, making it hard to even think. More than anything, she didn’t want to be alone in the great home again, or back in the room where the dead man had broken through her door. “Here.”

Kant led her toward the small storage room she’d woken in. He held the door open for her, and Margot stepped inside.

Even with the shutters open, it was a dim space. Margot felt a chill travel through her as she gazed across the cluttered shelves and dull, rusted sink.

Kant approached a mug that had been left next to the sink and glanced inside. “Andrew made you coffee.”