She stood on tiptoes and pulled the cord. It took some effort, but the attic door finally opened up, and the collapsible ladder unfolded and touched down on the floor with a bang. As Amy’s foot landed on the first step, she looked up at the black opening ahead of her and tried not to think of a grave, deep and dark and meant to swallow you forever and ever.

Just another room, she thought. Jake Diaz and Valerie Starr probably aren’t afraid of attics. You can’t afford to be, either.

She climbed up onto the dusty boards of the attic floor. All around her stood stacked boxes and tarp-covered furniture, looking like ghosts drifting between walls of an old pyramid. Amy chased the idea out of her head and turned on the flashlight, illuminating old cardboard containers and moth-eaten canvas.

Look, see? That box says baby pictures on the side. Not very scary.

She scanned the room, looking for the box with the family treasure of art supplies. She assumed it would be one of the less dusty pieces around her—she used them every year for her presentation board, and Mom and Dad liked to bust them out for rainy days and school projects. But all she could see were old bins, half-broken tables, and piles of coats she and Katie had grown out of. She tried to ignore the feeling that outside her beam of light, the whole room was endless and black, that a million invisible monsters could be sneaking up behind her, ready to grab her—

She turned and saw the silhouette of a person, followed by a blinding glare. Amy felt her breath catch—and then realized it was Mom’s old standing full-length mirror, with the ornate wood border. She exhaled hard, feeling stupid for the tingling in her fingertips and the pounding of her heart. Scared of her own reflection—that was a good look for a young scientist. She pulled an old quilt off some boxes and draped it over the mirror.

She shone her light where the quilt had been and found a plastic bin packed with poster papers and paintbrushes. A piece of tape on the lid read ART SUPPLIES in black marker. Jackpot.

Amy knelt down and picked it up—

—only to encounter the flash of a runny yellow eye and sharp white teeth.

A fierce hiss.

Amy dropped the bin and stumbled back with a shout.

Hutch came bounding out from behind the bin and scrambled down the stairs. Amy cursed the fat gray tabby as she watched him leap from the top stair down to the bottom of the ladder gracefully.

Hutch’s back legs kicked the last stair on the ladder. Amy heard the wheeze of a spring and watched as the attic stairs began folding back up again. As she realized what was happening, she scrambled to try and stop it, but somehow the stairs moved too fast.