Cue the late-night hours staring at her ceiling fan, afraid that if she closed her eyes, a hand with knives for fingers might pop through her mattress and lead her down to the demonic basement.

“You know, someone at TSC recommended this herbal Sleepytime tea. It’s really helped. I could bring you some,” Samantha offered.

“The Sunshine group? I didn’t realize you were going to meetings.” Vera cut her a look.

Last night, when she’d walked to the basement, she’d been dreaming about Seth Durand, that he caused the explosion on purpose. She watched him slam a silver wrench into the gas meter. She didn’t know if the dream was true, or if it was just her overactive mind inventing scenarios, or if her brush with Maxwell’s mother left a mark on her subconscious, but the Sunshine Crew was started by Seth Durand’s wife and son. And despite the glaring hypocrisy, Vera didn’t feel comfortable with her friend cozying up to that family.

Besides, Maxwell’s mother had been a member and look at her now.

“Mostly I just go in the chat rooms.” Samantha’s voice was nonchalant.

“Well, I wouldn’t get too close,” Vera hedged, trying not to sound judgey.

“Why?” Samantha shrugged. “It’s been helping. I think everything bothering me about Brian’s death stems from a rigid mindset. I’ve been stuck in a cycle of destructive thinking.”

“Ugh.” Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Those are nonsense words.”

“No, they’re helping me find peace,” Samantha huffed, slipping on her hospital sneakers. “My mom is like a new person.”

“Because she’s brainwashed,” Chelsea mocked.

“She is not! Stop it.” Samantha swatted her arm.

“Whatever. Just don’t buy me a yellow hat.” Chelsea shook her blond hair, swinging toward Vera. “By the way, did you hear about Mr. Gonzalez?”

“No. What?” Vera’s brow furrowed.

“He croaked. Late yesterday.” She sounded like it was good news.

Vera’s shoulders caved. She had completely forgotten to mention him to her mother; she was too consumed with sleepwalking and Maxwell’s mom. Now the old man was dead. Before that one horrible experience, Mr. Gonzalez had been a gentle soul who loved, and dearly missed, his wife.

Vera closed her eyes, offering a silent prayer. Mr. Gonzalez, I hope you find peace with your wife….

“What are you doing?” Chelsea asked.

Vera lifted her lashes. “Saying a prayer?” It came out like a question.

“Oh, great.” Chelsea’s face twisted. “First her with the TSC. Now you’re finding Jesus.”

“Well, (a) I was raised Catholic, and (b) the man died.”

“After he threatened you.”

“He was sick and confused and alone.”

“Actually, he wasn’t that alone. His son was here earlier.” Chelsea shifted to one hip. “And he threw that shrine in the trash.”

“Really?” Samantha sounded shocked.

“Yes, really.” Chelsea’s eyes narrowed. “Those shrines are popping up all over the hospital, and they’re freaking people out. A whole group is planning to bring it up at the next staff meeting.”

“Good.” Vera nodded. She didn’t want to reveal how much she knew about the dangers of demons and idol worship, but the less creepiness spreading through town, the better.