“No.” I’m not actually sure I could give a description. Not terribly tall, though with the lights and the shadows, that could be debatable. I had the impression of jeans and a black parka with the hood drawn tight around the face, which, come to think of it, means I’m not even one hundred percent certain on the gender. “God, I hope it wasn’t one of our neighbors. They don’t need any more reasons to hate me.” Though it seems an odd place for a neighbor to be, actually within the grounds, on the Manse’s driveway. Perhaps the person was walking a dog that went roaming. I look around again and then put the car into first gear and inch gingerly down the drive.

“You must have left the lights on again,” says Carrie in a mildly accusatory tone. I’ve been concentrating so hard on not running over any more neighbors that I haven’t really looked at the house; I’m surprised to see a yellow glow emanating from within the utterly black mass that is the Manse—blacker even than the darkness that it sits within. For a second the light puts me in mind of a dragon: a fire within the belly of the beast. But of course it’s sure to be something far more prosaic. An electric bulb, most likely the ceiling light on the second-floor landing. I must have left it on accidentally. Or perhaps I’m still subconsciously keen to keep the house lit, like last night. Though I thought I had turned everything off . . . I think uneasily of the figure I almost ran down. Then I remind myself that I changed all the locks.

“I guess your key worked fine last night,” I say as I unlock the front door, not an easy thing to do in the darkness. I should install some kind of security light with a sensor, except of course I’m not going to be staying. Though maybe I should do it anyway, in case I rent the place out after all. Finally I have the door open and a draft of air licks over me, like the beast is breathing out. “I thought changing the locks was the safest thing to do,” I add casually. “Who knows how many old keys are knocking around after being rented out all these years. I feel a bit better knowing just you and I have access.”

“You can take the girl out of London . . .” Carrie says. She’s not quite mocking, but it’s not exactly friendly ribbing either. The thawing process is not entirely complete. “Probably sensible, I guess, though I doubt the Highlands of Scotland is fertile ground for intruders.”