“Actually . . . I opened it last night,” I said. “Looking for Charlie. I’m pretty sure I left it that way . . .”

He swung toward me. “You might not have?”

“It matters?”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “At any rate, I think something just came through here. C’mon.”

Lucas took up my hand again and tugged me out of my room and down the rear hallway, like he knew the lay of the land as well as I did. But then, my house was all over a documentary.

“Lucas, where are we going?”

“Up,” he said. “To the attic. Like Wes said, we stick to the plan.”

Trailing sage smoke in our wake, Lucas and I climbed up, around one tight bend and then the next, our feet creating a hollow racket on the stairs that everyone had to be hearing. Everyone and everything.

I’d never seen Lucas this hell-bent. Until now, I’d have wagered that aggravation wasn’t an emotion he possessed.

We cleared the final steps, emerging into the dusty and antique-filled attic. Above us, rain pounded the roof, the storm issuing a low groan of thunder.

Then Lucas did something that shocked me. He slung me gently out into the center clearing of the room, releasing me in the same motion. I stumbled backward a step into the weak patches of light straining to stream through the rear windows. He scowled at me, ready, it seemed, to start yelling.

He didn’t, though. Instead, his steps hit the floorboards hard and fast as, with determination, he closed the distance between us, dropping his sage bundle along the way so that his hands could reach for me.

His palms, warm, took my face.

And then . . . then he kissed me.

FORTY-EIGHT

Zedok

From my side, I had entered Stephanie’s by way of her closet. I’d made a show of pushing her bedroom door open before retreating once more to my Moldavia, taking care to shut the closet door behind me. From there, I went to my old room and exited by way of the closet into Charlie’s. Sequestered there, I eavesdropped on the stir I had purposefully initiated long enough to ascertain that Stephanie would be returning to her room with the boy.

My aim was to continue to cause confusion that would lead to separation.

From there, I would isolate Stephanie at first opportunity and seize my final chance to explain everything.

Through the slit of Charlie’s partially open door, I marked Stephanie’s movements as she, conjoined at the hand with that infernal boy, was forced to follow his every step. Just when I had been sure he would bring her my way, their approach presenting me with the not-altogether-unappealing prospect of my having to incapacitate him, he turned sharply with Stephanie, veering for the rear portion of the second floor.

His conduct toward her, all but forceful, drove me to the window of Charlie’s bedroom. Concern for Stephanie now tearing at me, I climbed out onto the external iron staircase that had been installed two decades prior.