We’d been walking for an hour or two. The streets were empty, perfectly silent, as even our footsteps were muted by the moss. The week was over, and I would not miss it. I looked at Cherub and noticed that somewhere in the night, he’d discarded his sword.

“I’ll wake Bex Red and ask her for breakfast,” I said.

“I’d rather you come with me.”

“Where?”

“You’ve lost your house. I’ve lost my gang. Wouldn’t it be fine to start somewhere new?”

“I’m not cut out for life in the Upper West.”

“There are other cities, you know. We could be anyone. We could be adults.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“It sounds like an adventure.”

I looked up and saw we had turned onto Washington Square. The park was a jungle, the trees were mammoth, and the arch was as filthy as it was meant to be. Dawn was flaring up in the east, but it was still night on the west side of the park, and the shadows were hideously thick. They swirled around my empty lot, not level on the ground, but sloping upward, staggered, as though they were standing on—

“My stoop,” I said. I snatched the torch from Cherub and ran across the park. The dark cloud twisted to meet me. I vaulted over my old fence, and stood on my land, and bellowed at the shadows: “Take me! Take me back to her!”

They did not move my way. I pulled out my penknife and dragged it across my palm. The shadows flickered in my direction. They were sluggish, weak, dying. They would require more encouragement. I squeezed my fist, and blood poured from my hand, down my arm, and into my dirt. Now the shadows swarmed.

“Get back,” cried Cherub. He reached for the collar of my dress. I shoved him hard and sent him sprawling.

“Wait,” I said, before the shadows took hold. My body went numb, and the world turned dark.

I opened my eyes and saw Cherub frozen on a white sidewalk. He was shouting, but I couldn’t hear. I turned, and beneath an ivory sky, I saw my house standing proud. A dozen ghouls crowded the stoop, pounding against my father’s great wooden door. When I appeared, they turned to me. They marched down the stoop on flickering, smoky legs, the fire in their eyes dancing in anticipation. I had my key in my pocket. I only had to clear a path. Their smoke reached out to claim me as one of their own.