“No, Lucas,” argued the girl. “You actually didn’t. You basically told everyone that we were dealing with a demon.”

“Because that’s what it has to be,” he said. “Erik can’t be real.”

“Except you just told me that’s not what Stephanie believes.”

“Because she’s in the first stage of oppression!”

“You don’t know that.”

“She admitted to caring about him.”

“So. What. You’re jealous? Is that what this is really about?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re the one who is being stupid, Lucas. What if there really is a spirit stuck here?”

“That’s just it, Charlotte. We’re not talking about a spirit. She said he was tangible—a person. But you and I both know that’s not possible. The legend isn’t real. It can’t be. So the only other explanation is that it’s playing her. There is no Erik. Nothing else makes sense.”

Sneering, I tightened a fist.

“Okay, fine,” said the girl, Charlotte. “Say there is a dark entity here. That doesn’t necessarily make it demonic.”

“It melted metal,” replied the boy. “It almost killed her dad. Besides, this thing’s been coming to her in dreams. It told her not to have investigators to the house. She said Erik was why she wanted to come back here. Name one thing about any of that that doesn’t scream demonic activity.”

So, Stephanie had told him quite a bit. Had she truly said she cared for me, though? Whether she had or not, was not her return to Moldavia proof enough that she did care?

“I knew I should have asked her why she wasn’t saying anything,” said Charlotte. “It wasn’t because she didn’t want to. It was because you told her not to.”

“Because we would have all sat there wasting time, debating about what this thing really was when the answer was obvious.”

“You know,” said the girl, “you’re starting to sound just like Wes.”

“I do not sound like Wes.”

“You do. And while we’re on the subject, what is going on between you two?”

“Nothing,” snapped the boy.

“Clearly it’s not nothing. Lately, he’s been trying to get a reaction out of you any chance he gets. Why?”

“He likes Stephanie, okay?”

“He said that?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes. Actually. He did.”

She laughed. “And you believed him?”

“Hey,” said the boy suddenly, his voice at once clearer than before. “The basement door. Look. It’s open.”

The scuff of a shoe on the tile warned me of his approach. If he looked beyond the door, though, there could be little doubt now that he would see me.

“Lucas, stop. Stephanie said not to—”

Quickly, I yanked the door shut. The resulting bang resounded through the house, inciting a scream from the girl.

FORTY-SEVEN

Stephanie

“You stay there!” I shouted at Patrick as I darted past him, bolting into the back hall with Wes on my heels.

Patrick’s instinct had been to rush toward the source of the scream. But we’d all be screaming soon if he didn’t keep his watch over the doorway.