Time.

Habit prompted me to glance toward the mantel, where I’d set Stephanie’s angel.

And that was when the most insane of impulses overcame me.

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to take the angel from her new perch and return her to the place from which I had taken her. This I wanted to do so that Stephanie might yet pass one more peaceful day doubting the monster existed so that I, as Erik, might spend one more congenial night in her company.

So strong was this urge that, after only one moment more of deliberation, I might have snatched the angel from her place and hurried to undo my trap. And I would have, if the jingling of keys followed by the creaking of the front door had not heralded the arrival of one of the home’s occupants.

Frozen and listening, I waited for Charlie’s voice to signal that it was she and her father who had returned.

Instead, the voice was hers.

“Dad?” Stephanie called, prompting me to turn. “Charlie?”

TWENTY-ONE

Stephanie

The house roared quiet back at me. Instead of entering, I stared up the empty staircase, my hands tightening on the basket of freshly folded bed linens I held.

Still bewitched by the memory of my last dream with Erik and needing also to bring a touch of life into this place, I’d picked up a dozen red-on-the-inside-and-white-on-the-outside “Snowfire” roses from the florist I’d found next to the laundromat.

Just because we couldn’t restore the conservatory didn’t mean we couldn’t have roses.

The plastic-wrapped flowers lay atop the clean sheets, their scent mingling first with the detergent and then, as I crossed the threshold, with the aroma of fresh sawdust and million-year-old wallpaper glue.

Last night, Dad had torn down as much of the old wallpaper as he could in the parlor, leaving the more stubborn patches for today. I should have heard him in there now, scraping away. For some reason, though, he didn’t seem to be home.

“Hello?”

With my back to the still-open front door, I waited another few seconds, not sure why I was holding out for a response when I had already seen that Dad’s red F150 wasn’t in the drive.

I guessed the good news was that I wouldn’t have to explain to him why I was late. Not that I’d get in trouble for joining SPOoKy for after-school ice cream anyway, which Lucas had invited me to while walking me to class.

On a side note, how adorable had it been to watch Lucas power run down the hall after seeing me to American lit? Answer: very.

Still, I didn’t want Dad jumping to conclusions about me and Lucas. At least, not until I came to my own conclusions about us.

The bad news about Dad being out? This officially marked the first time I’d been in the house alone.

Normally, such an event would have been cause for celebration. A reason to crank my music, take a long soak in the clawfoot bathtub, or catch up on my huge to-be-read pile.