A man in a blue cardigan hovers two inches off the ground, half his body inside the wall. Another wears a black funeral suit, and there’s a gaping hole in his chest. He walks straight through a guest as if he’s nothing but a gust of wind. They’re all outlined in a lustrous silver glow.

“Anna,” I say as calmly as I can. “Are those people…dead?”

She gives me a strained grin. “More or less.”

Definitely more.

“Max!” Nora calls.

The cat leaps from the table, landing soundlessly on the floor. His body ripples like heat distorting air. His shoulders broaden, his paws becoming bigger and longer as his entire body grows. Bulges extend from his back, his tail lengthening as spikes shoot out along it.

Then the little black cat is gone, and standing in its place is a huge creature, its body all lean muscle, with a square muzzle and a thick, angular head. Giant, dragonesque wings spread wide from his back, and jagged teeth protrude from his mouth.

“What in the world?” The question leaps free, and for a second, I wish I could do something other than ask questions. I feel about as useful right now as a wet blanket.

“Jabberwocky,” Anna reminds me, before shooing me out of the way of a translucent man walking through our table. Now that Max is in the mix, her concern seems to have faded.

Max turns a nearly transparent ethereal silver and steps into the man’s path. The spirit walks into him, and Max’s body ripples, absorbing him like a drop of water into a pond.

Then he starts off around the room, gathering spirits.

I expect to be scared. When Anna started explaining her powers, it felt a lot like when you’re in a car and the road dips, making your stomach swoop. Because as absurd as it all sounded, I believed her. The Wish Cider and ghosts flying about the house seal the deal, but rather than feeling nervous or scared, I feel curious.

“When this is over, you owe me so many answers,” I say.

Anna gives me a strange look, a mix of pleasant surprise and excitement. Then her face pales.

I follow her line of sight over my shoulder and freeze.

My parents.

They stumble toward us, silvery and ghostly. My mom’s normally laughing face is colorless and slack, and my dad’s once-bright gray eyes are dull and empty. They both bear vicious purple handprints on their throats.

Anna tries to pull me away, but I don’t budge. She tugs again. “Colin, don’t look!”

But I can’t tear my gaze away. My parents’ heads loll unnaturally, and my stomach turns.

“They’re dead.” My voice splinters.

They stop in front of us. My hand moves on its own, trembling, as I try to touch my dad. My fingers go straight through him with a phantom chill.