“Being insufferable is a defense mechanism,” said Wes. “And like I’ve been saying since the very beginning of SPOoKy, what we really need in situations like this are (a) a real actual ordained priest and (b) holy water.”

At this, Patrick raised a finger. “Just want to throw out an impartial observation here, but I thought that involving a priest is what supposedly started this whole mess in the first place.”

“A triviality,” replied Wes.

“Your brain is a triviality,” countered Patrick.

“My brain, I’ll have you know, is the second least trivial thing about me.”

The sage would no doubt leave a smell in the house, which I’d have to conjure up an excuse for when Dad returned. But that was the least of my problems, especially since I’d already successfully concocted excuses for what happened last night.

Back at the hospital, when Dad had finally come to, he’d immediately started haranguing himself over the chandelier, apologizing for not checking the fixture the moment we’d moved in. Of course he would think the fitting had rotted. What would he say when he saw the chain? When he’d asked what had made me panic, I’d explained that I’d suffered from some kind of waking night terror. Which had, in a way, been true. He’d immediately asked about getting me tested for carbon monoxide poisoning, and I’d put him off, promising I’d check the alarms in the home first and call someone if the levels were bad.

Thing was, the levels in the house were bad. And I had called someone. Just not about carbon monoxide. And now, while both Charlie and Dad were away and safe, I had the help of four people who believed I was dealing with the otherworldly.

What no one in SPOoKy—including Lucas—seemed to be grasping, though, was that there was something in the house that wasn’t bad.

Those eyes. The way they’d gazed at me before being dragged back inside the house. His mask might have hidden his features from me, but not those two faraway lights. There had been someone inside those eyes. Behind that mask. There was a person within that empty body I knew to be real because I had held it.

“Hey.” Wes bumped my arm, offering me his elbow like we were about to walk down the homecoming court together. “Let’s go smoke a ghost, shall we?”

“I thought you said it was a demon.”

“And I thought you said you were single,” he said through a wolfish grin.

That’s when Patrick gave Wes a disapproving once-over. “Man. Quit being the creepiest thing in this building and get your weird ass up those stairs. I’m not chaperoning you. I’ve got enough to worry about being down here alone on the set of the Insidious Children of the Conjuring Corn.”

Wes gave me another of his mysterious, conspiratorial winks. Then he dropped his proffered arm and stalked to the base of the steps. Patrick in the meantime moved to take his station by the door, next to a camera, its lens aimed at the parlor doors and the back hall where Lucas had told the group most of last night’s “activity” had taken place. Had Lucas been listening, though, when I’d told him none of it had happened on this side?