Years ago, Dracula did the same, concealed among boxes of earth aboard the Demeter. The only difference is Dracula got a schooner, and Renfield got Pan Am. I imagine him hidden behind towering stacks of Samsonite luggage, tucked away in the womb of a Boeing 707. It probably wasn’t even hard for him to hide. He looks like a bundle of cobwebs and shadows, something that could disappear in plain sight. After all, people always peer straight through the forgotten.

Voices seep up through the floorboards, rattling in my bones, but Bee doesn’t mind the company. Next to me, she’s already asleep.

I tell myself I shouldn’t stay here. I should get out before these heartbeats eat me up alive and then I do the same to everyone else. But last night still sits heavy inside me, and with my body numb, I close my eyes as the morning falls away.

seven

It’s nearly sundown when my hunger jolts me awake.

Through a gap in the curtains, the last bit of daylight spills golden across the horizon. Dracula must be getting closer now, his own ashes calling out to him.

My head heavy, I reach behind me to check on the urn, but it’s gone. Nothing next to Bee, either. I’m on my feet now, searching the room, searching everywhere.

It doesn’t take long to find them. The two urns have made it all the way to the door. With a quick lunge, I scoop them both up into my arms. Obstinate as children, they try to slither away, but I hold them tight.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I seethe, but that’s not true. Another few minutes, and they could have gotten to the top of the staircase, and then god only knows who would have found them. Maybe one of those doe-eyed girls downstairs, come to play rescuer to the man who’d murder her.

“They’re getting more restless, aren’t they?” Bee’s standing next to me, her arms crossed over her.

“It’ll be okay,” I say, and wish it were true.

Voices float up the stairs like ghosts. Daisy and the others, their laughter lilting through the smoke-drenched air. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a house with this much mirth, this much possibility. How lovely it all sounds. How quickly I could spoil it.

They’re downstairs in the living room, only about a dozen of them now, all long legs and bare feet. Daisy looks up when Bee and I creep in.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” she says, creaking back and forth in the rocking chair. “I’m heading out soon. You should come too. Maybe we’ll find your Jane tonight.”

Then Daisy glances down at our tattered dresses, a whiff of soot and decay in the air. She crinkles her nose. “You might want to change first.”