For a short moment, she looked likely to argue. Her lip curled. Her eyes darkened. Just as quickly, however, her expression cleared, and she dipped her chin in a slight nod, brushing past me up the stairs.

We ascended the next two floors in a single-file line. One step at a time. Slow. Cautious. We paused only to inspect the dilapidated rooms beyond, but the cauchemar—if here at all—remained hidden.

“What was that?” Beau whipped his head to the door on our right, to the ominous groan behind it. “Did you hear—?” Something creaked overhead, and another gust of wind swept up the staircase. He spun to face Coco. “Was that you?”

Her eyes darted all around us. “Why would I be moaning?”

It was a mark of Beau’s panic that he didn’t respond. Instead, he nearly tripped over Célie as she stooped to collect something from the moldy stair. It gleamed through her fingers in the darkness. A shard of mirror. Straightening, she held it out in front of her like a knife.

A beat of silence passed as we stared at her. “What?” she hissed defensively, face nearly white. “No one gave me a weapon.”

To my surprise, Coco responded by bending to retrieve her own shard. She held it poised in her free hand, saying nothing of the knife in her other, and nodded once in Célie’s direction. Then she nudged Beau. He looked between them, aghast. “You cannot be serious. We’re more likely to wound ourselves than the cauchemar with such rubbish.”

Rolling my eyes, I pressed a dagger into his palm before picking up my own piece of glass. At Célie’s incredulous stare, one corner of my mouth quirked up. “What?” I shrugged and continued upward, not looking back. “It was a good idea.”

We crept toward the final floor in silence. When the door below slammed shut again, Beau’s whisper quickly followed. “I’m as opposed to airing my dirty laundry as anyone, but perhaps—in light of the circumstances—it might help to . . . discuss our fears?” The step beneath him heaved an ominous groan, and he exhaled sharply. “For example, if one of you could reiterate how you’d never dream of ignoring or forgetting me, that would be grand. It’s a ridiculous notion, I know, but for the sake of—”