A chill ran up my spine, and I darted a nervous glance over my shoulder. I began to speak, but was cut off by a sudden, deafening clamor of crashes and thuds from the floor above. The detective and I exchanged wide-eyed looks, and then he snatched a gnarled, wooden club from the shelf behind the desk and hurried into the hall to investigate. I scanned the office frantically, finding nothing intimidating to wield, and settled for a particularly heavy book. I carried it like a shot-putter, hefting the clumsy thing by my ear. My wrist was shaking, but I remained tensed to launch it fiercely at any ne’er-do-wells.

My nerves vibrated like a plucked harp, and I silently cursed the spiral stairwell as I crept upward in a cold sweat. The last turn revealed a massive heap of artifacts splayed across the passageway. They had clearly tumbled from the cluttered room on the right, and out into the hall. A china plate with gold inlay was still wobbling to a stop, and the feathers drifting slowly downward suggested that a ruptured pillow was probably somewhere in the mound.

Jenny stood in the doorway, her knees vanishing into the side of the upturned phonograph, which lay toppled and propped on its bell. The ghost’s expression was difficult to read. Her face, a study in silver, seemed flushed, her cheeks and nose darkening to an iron gray. Behind her, Douglas flapped to a landing on the curved headboard of the bed, which had been half unearthed since my last visit. He had two silk neckties draped across his neck like ceremonial vestments.

“What—?” Jackaby began.

“Oh, hello,” said Jenny, smiling sheepishly. She wore a pair of lacy silk gloves, whose substantiality stood out in odd contrast to her translucent figure. “Just helping you get started. Got a lot to move. You’d be surprised how tricky it can be to stay solid while you’re trying to maneuver the big, awkward stuff.”

Douglas quacked and wobbled on his perch.

“Oh, like you were any help!” Jenny jabbed a silky white finger in his direction, then turned back to us. “I knew you would say yes, of course, Jackaby. So Douglas agreed to help me find space in the attic.” She looked from the detective to me, reading expressions. “You are staying here, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t—,” I started, but Jackaby burst in at the same moment.

“Of course she’s staying here! Where else would she stay? That’s no reason to go throwing my things across the house!”

And with that it was settled. Jenny clapped her hands together and smiled brightly, and Jackaby turned to look at me. “What in heaven’s name are you doing with my copy of Historia Lycanthropis?”

“I—what?” I answered eloquently.

“That book. What on earth are you doing with it?”

“Well, you had the stick.”