With that, he hurried to catch up with Charlotte, leaving me with Patrick and Wes, both of whom eyed me as though I were a witch marked for burning.

“Is it really that bad?” I asked. “The house?”

“Since this seems like it’s heading toward being an official SPOoKy investigation,” said Patrick, “I get why Lucas doesn’t want you to be influenced by any outside information or history yet. So, for now, I apologize, but mum’s the word.”

“But, for the record,” Wes interjected, those storm-gray eyes alight with quiet foreboding. “Yeah . . . it’s that bad.”

TEN

Zedok

The camera bag that the boy carried told me exactly what he was, if not who.

From my second-story perch, through the window of the turret, I marked the young man’s approach as he made his way to the porch.

He was as tall as I was, though broader, of course, in the shoulders.

Beneath his attire, I imagined he must possess a muscular form, for he stood quite straight. The lightness of his step betrayed his engagement in some regular physical activity, too.

I sneered, despising him straightaway, as I did any and all who dared to carry the hated title of “paranormal investigator.”

Normally, it took loud announcements and flashy appearances before inhabitants called in reinforcements. Researchers, shamans, members of the clergy, and certain meddlesome mediums had all encroached upon these grounds before, each harboring the futile hope of eradicating the blight that plagued Moldavia. That was to say, me.

The trespassers nearly always bore the same array of useless equipment. And always wreaked more destruction than good. On themselves as well as on me . . .

So far, the only thing setting this creature apart from the others was his age.

My guess was that he could not yet be eighteen. And so no more than a year younger than I had been at the time the curse had decimated my world.

Reason dictated he must be a schoolmate of Stephanie’s. An acquaintance. She had not resided in the area long enough to acquire any more meaningful relationships. At least I did not think so. Regardless, he was here, and thus represented a complication I cared not for.

What did he know of Moldavia? What had he told her? Or what had she told him?

Had Stephanie spoken of Erik?

Perhaps I should have warned her not to.

The boy knocked, the noise rankling me to the bones.

If Stephanie had told this boy about her encounter with Erik, did not his presence on these grounds suggest that he believed her?

His status as an investigator aside, was that not on its own enough to make him officially my enemy?

ELEVEN

Stephanie

“Hey, come on in.”

Standing beneath the porch’s stone portico, Lucas gripped tightly with both hands the shoulder-slung strap of a camera bag. While I stepped back to make room for him to enter, he gave me a tight and apprehensive smile.