“Indeed.”

She sips her tea.

“You should probably just stay here tonight,” I offer.

“Oh, I couldn’t.” A slight shake of her head.

“No, I mean it. This isn’t going anywhere.” And, as if to emphasize the fact, a crack of thunder shakes the house.

I smile at her. There’s that clairvoyance. See? I’m developing it already.

She contemplates, looking into her tea.

“It’s not exactly like I can send you out into the pouring rain to fend for yourself. It’s dangerous out there.”

I could think about exactly how dangerous it is. I could think about the danger that is everywhere. I could think all the things I’m not supposed to think about.

Or I could stare into the fire and listen to the sound of the rain on the rooftop and politely drink my cup of tea with Penelope Persephone Crisp.

Chapter 34

There’s nothing strange about this particular night—other than the thunderstorm—until it happens.

Yes, Penelope stays over, in one of the downstairs bedrooms. The nice one. Leave it to her to feel just fine about taking the fancy bedroom.

Perhaps I am too hard on myself.

Perhaps I should tell myself I do deserve the fancy bed.

But I don’t.

I most assuredly don’t.

There’s nothing unusual about bidding her good night, going up the stairs, and brushing my teeth. Nothing unusual about tuning in to Ancient Aliens, with the volume on low so as not to be devastated by embarrassment if anyone knew I was watching something so absurd. Nothing unusual about drifting off to sleep with a mind full of ancient artifacts and magical disks.

In fact, there’s nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever . . .

Except for the moment I awake with Penelope standing over me.

It must be three or four in the morning, the rain has stopped and in its place is silence, exaggerated by the downpour before it. Perhaps the suddenness of the silence is what caused me to wake. Or perhaps it was the body hovering over me by the bed.

I wake with a start to see, there, just next to me, above me, good old Penelope standing there. Just looking down at me. Blank.

There’s nothing menacing about her face, and nothing kind, either. It’s a numb sort of thing.

“What the hell?!” I leap to the other side of the bed, dragging the blanket protectively over myself. A shield.

But she stands there still, seeming to shake her head, just slightly. Muttering something to herself.

I lean in to listen. What is she saying? Who the heck is she talking to?

And her head shakes a bit more, the muttering continues . . . mutter mutter mutter, “No, no no no no no.”

But she’s not even looking at me now. She’s turned and is looking at the bedroom door. She’s looking at the bedroom door as if she’s talking to someone at the bedroom door. But there’s no one there.

“Go away! Go away!” she insists, imploring the air. “Get out of here! Leave her alone!”