The Finns stood huddled close together, always in contact, a hand on a shoulder, an elbow near a rib, all touching, connected. Mr. Ed Finn and his two children, Kelly and Liam. A nice little family and Doolin at their feet, licking her paws.

At one point, the old house collapsed in on itself with a WHOOSH and a thunderous crash, the great roof caving in, shooting bright embers into the sky. It sounded, to Liam’s ears, as if the house gave one final cry, then a fading whimper, and then, at last, died.

“All my clothes,” Kelly lamented. “Our stuff.”

“I know,” Mr. Finn said. “But we have great insurance, Kell. Mom always insisted on that. We’ll get money to replace most of the things we lost. We can build a new house.”

“Here?” Liam asked.

Mr. Finn looked into the eyes of his two children. “No, I don’t think so. My job’s not working out so hot. I hate it, to be honest with you.” He laughed, relieved to say it out loud. “I don’t think this place was ever right for us. What about you guys?”

“I want to go back to Hopeville,” Kelly said.

“Me, too,” Liam agreed.

Mr. Finn glanced at the sickle moon above and sighed. “I guess we never should have left.”

*   *   *

In the morning, they went back to see the remains of the house one last time. There was almost nothing there. Just a heap of ash, cold and in a hundred shades of gray. After a long moment, Kelly stepped forward. She pointed. “What’s that?”

Something sparkled in the sunlight. Then Kelly ran—kicking up small clouds of dust and ash with each step. Liam followed close behind.

Kelly came to the glimmering thing. She bent to pick it up.

“I don’t believe it,” Kelly murmured, her voice full of wonder. “Mama’s ring.”

Their mother’s ring glistened in the sun, still brilliant and silver, polished and bright. It was untroubled by the fire. The ring appeared to be, in fact, brand-new.

Kelly smiled at Liam and her father. She held the ring up high in her palm, as if making a gift of it to the heavens, and closed her fingers, tight.

Epilogue

SUCH IS LIFE WHEN YOU’RE FOOLING WITH THE UNDEAD. IT’S A FRIGHT.

ASHES TO ASHES, DUST TO DUST. BUT DON’T THINK THIS IS THE END OF OUR FRIEND BLOODY MARY. SHE’S A HARD LADY TO KEEP DOWN, BECAUSE MARY’S GOT A WAY OF RISING FROM THE ASHES. EVEN NOW, SHE WAITS BENEATH FLOORBOARDS … IN COOL BASEMENTS … BEHIND BATHROOM MIRRORS.

MAYBE IN A HOME NEAR YOU.

GIVE IT A TRY SOME DARK AND LONELY NIGHT. MARY WON’T BITE (SHE SCRATCHES). FLIP OFF THE LIGHTS, TURN THIRTEEN TIMES, WHISPERING IN AN EVER-LOUDER VOICE, “BLOODY MARY, BLOODY MARY, BLOODY MARY.”

YOU NEVER KNOW WHO MIGHT SHOW UP.

Teaser

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