“Yes, yes, I know the stories people tell of the place. It’s abandoned, haunted, a home for orphans who were drowned.” She waved her hand, hauling a large bag onto her shoulder. “All that. It is still the best place to practice on this night.”

Kerrigan shuddered, remembering the last time she’d stepped into Black House. She’d been with Fordham, investigating the weapons that Basem Nix was selling with illegal magical artifacts. Her spirit magic was erratic, and the spirits of the dead swarmed her. Fordham didn’t feel a thing, and Kerrigan was overwhelmed with their presence. And that had been in the middle of the summer. Not on the actual Night of the Dead.

“Come, girl. Nothing is going to reach you with me beside you,” Zina said.

A healthy lot of Fae children prowled around the house, stepping close to it and then screaming at some bump in the night. It was tradition to try to touch the door to prove your mettle to your friends.

Everyone gaped as Zina strode right past the entire lot, up the stairs, and yanked the door open without even a backward glance. The kids all screamed and ran away. Kerrigan bit her lip, her stomach twisting, but she didn’t want Zina to look back for her. It was just a house. A haunted house on the Night of the Dead. But just a house. How many times could she say it to convince herself?

She pushed her shoulders back and strode inside after Zina. The house was musty with signs of disuse everywhere. The old staircase was rickety with missing boards. Cobwebs littered the corners. Dust covered the creaky hardwood floor. The Red Masks had been using the abandoned house to store weapons, so it hadn’t been entirely abandoned, but it looked worse than the last time she’d been in here.

“Help me with this,” Zina said.

She dropped her bag onto the ground, and Kerrigan helped her extract a few dozen candles from inside. Zina directed her to put them in a circle large enough for them both to sit in. Even before she was finished, Kerrigan could feel the house come alive.

She closed her eyes as she felt the brush of little fingers on her hair. She shuddered.

“Leave her be,” Zina commanded. “She’s here with me.”

“You know the spirits?”

“Know them? No. No one can really know the spirits that still inhabit this land, but I can feel them, and they’ve come to respect my presence. They’re not used to you. They’re inquisitive. The circle will keep them at bay.”

Kerrigan gulped and hurriedly put the rest of the candles in the circle. Zina settled into a seated cross-legged position and gestured for Kerrigan to sit, facing her, which she did.

“Now, light the candles,” Zina said.