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Hand over cracked paint, I look down the hall.

The man’s cane never hits the floor as he floats closer, faceless, nameless; he haunts through the night like it’s his sole mission.

“No. Leave them be.”

“Who are you to command us?” A soft voice from my left, a voice I know all too well, has my heart speeding.

“The master of this estate.” I turn my eyes over her, trying to remember her with rosy cheeks and flesh that wasn’t falling off her bones, and hold firm, chin in the air.

“For now,” she coos, twirling closer, her hands fisting either side of her snow-white dress.

“Lenore. Don’t.” My words are curt.

She stops a few feet from me.

“You once loved to dance with me.”

“That was before.”

She hisses. “Before I died.”

“Before I knew who you really were.”

Her eyes lock on mine, white with death, but even I see them pale a fraction as she realizes I know. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Backing a few paces, she drops her dress, veiling her bare feet. “You could save me.”

“You’re a part of the estate now, Lenore. It’s too late. You don’t belong to me anymore. You never did.”

“No. I don’t want to be.”

“I tried to warn you. Tried to get you to see reason.”

“I know,” she whispers.

If she were real, tears would roll down her cheeks, carving through the plump cream of them still teeming with life.

She backs into the wall, and it ripples to life. Shadowy, decayed hands push out and grab hold of her. “Don’t let it have me.”

“It already owns you, Lenore.”

Her curdled scream sinks into the fabric of the estate as she’s consumed by the house, the wall solidifying before my eyes, the hands gone, and the madness settled.

“She speaks to you,” Kyrin says, his shocked voice sounding from down the hall.

I whip my attention to him. “They all do.”

“Yet, you sound credulous about it.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

He swallows, his throat sliding as if it’s difficult.

“Do you see… them?” His question is one I know he’s wanted to ask me for a very long time, but hasn’t had the nerve.

“No. And I hope I never do.”