I made myself smile at David. “We got this,” I said, even though I had no idea what “this” was. But David and I had handled The Weird before and gotten through it. We could do it again.

Turning his head, he smiled down at me. Well, his lips lifted in something that I think was supposed to be a smile, but he was either too tired or too freaked out to give it his best shot.

I’d take it.

From behind me, I thought I heard Ryan blow out a long breath, but I kept my eyes on the house, waiting for... I didn’t even know what.

The three of us approached the building cautiously, like we were afraid we’d be rushed at any second. My Paladin senses weren’t tingling, so that probably wasn’t going to happen, but I still didn’t want to take any chances.

The porch steps didn’t even creak under our feet although the potted ferns by the door rustled slightly in the night wind. Other than that, there was no sign of movement, nothing happening behind the windows or door, and we all stood there for a moment. I didn’t see an intercom button or anything like that, and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to knock. Kick down the door, maybe?

Before I could do either of those things, the door slowly swung open.

“Cool,” Ryan said from behind me. “I was starting to think this crap wasn’t creepy enough.”

David snorted, and when he cut his eyes at Ryan, he looked better. Less pale, for sure. Sharper, almost. “Sorry we got you involved in a Scooby-Doo mystery.”

That made Ryan smile a little bit, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “That is what’s happening, isn’t it? Which obviously makes you Shaggy.” He nodded at David, whose smirk turned into a grin.

“Then you’re Fred,” he told Ryan. “And Pres here”—he bumped me with an elbow—“is for sure Daphne.”

“For sure,” Ryan agreed, and I rolled my eyes at both of them.

“Okay, if y’all are done being boys, can we please go in and see what the heck is going on here?”

We walked inside. The house smelled nice, like furniture polish and expensive candles, with a hint of something warm and spicy underneath. Tea, maybe. And it certainly didn’t look like a lair of evil. Overhead, a chandelier sparkled, and the wooden stairs gleamed. There were vases of fresh flowers on long, narrow tables, and pretty artwork dotted the walls. It looked like the inside of a lot of these old houses: The outside might be all vintage and historical, but there was clearly some twenty-first-century interior decorating going on.

“Maybe we died?” David suggested. “And ended up in Harper’s version of heaven?”