Now here I was kicking myself like I’d done every hour since the morning she’d failed to show up to school. Not to mention officially groveling for help from my own paranormal investigative team. And if I couldn’t talk them into joining me on an admittedly insane-sounding interdimensional rescue mission? What then?

“Mr. Armand’s looking pretty bad right now,” Patrick said. “And if we get involved, we’re bound to also. That’s all I’m saying.”

I sighed. Because I couldn’t argue with that logic.

So far, I’d been able to talk myself out of going into Moldavia and facing whatever dark figure I’d glimpsed behind that door alone. With the house under investigation, I couldn’t have approached the grounds anyway. Today, though, marked the first day since Stephanie’s now six-day disappearance that Moldavia wasn’t crawling with cops. We knew this because, after Stephanie’s father had been arrested, we’d set up one of Patrick’s trail cameras on a tree beside the entrance. That was the main reason behind why I’d called us all here. Because tonight, the house would officially be empty.

Well. One side of it would be.

It was true I hadn’t believed Stephanie about there being another house inside of hers. But now that she was missing, it stood to reason that perhaps there really was another side to Moldavia.

“Let’s just say you actually have it right this time,” Patrick added. “Say there is an alternate side of the house in which something or some things physically dwell, like Stephanie said. Before we go barging back into a situation like that—one that has obviously been out of our league from the start—shouldn’t we at least consider other options?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” said Charlotte.

“Like what?” I challenged.

“Like we could approach the church,” said Wes predictably.

“Or bring in one of the local clairvoyants we know,” offered Patrick. “Someone who can give us something solid to go on.”

I pulled my glasses off to rub at eyes that had gotten virtually no sleep since Stephanie’s vanishing. “If I can’t get any of you to believe me that she’s been taken by this . . . thing, then how am I supposed to get anyone else to?”

I certainly hadn’t dared to tell the police my suspicions when they’d questioned me. The last thing I wanted was for them to think me unstable. I’d admitted to the truth, that I’d been in Stephanie’s house that morning, though I’d left out the precise reasons why. When they’d asked me if I was her boyfriend, knowing they would have read my last text exchange with Stephanie, I gave the only answer I could.

Yeah, I was.

“You tell me, then,” said Patrick. “What are we supposed to do when we get in there? Start knocking on doors hoping Steph’s behind one of them? I don’t think I need to remind anyone how the sage—which is still all we’ve got—didn’t work.”

“Regretfully,” added Wes, “the Saint Michael prayer didn’t seem to have the desired effect either.”