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Now I was sure I must be dreaming. There was no way I was walking barefoot down a road with my friend’s black cat, discussing the date of my last menstrual period. Nonetheless, I answered.

“Um…it’s been over a year,” I admitted. “I’m really going through it, what with the hot flashes and the mood swings…it’s a real pain in the ass!”

“The emergence of magic is not easy when it comes at the change of life,” Bartleby said in his low, purring voice. “But it is necessary to let the power flow through you.”

At that point, I realized that we were walking into the dark forest—how had that happened?—instead of making our way towards the welcoming lights of the town.

“Hey, what are we doing?” I stopped in my tracks, looking mistrustfully into the dark branches which stretched over the road. “I’m not going in there—I need to go to that town and see if I can get some help to get home.”

“This is your home now,” Bartleby told me. “Or it will be, if you can just find the house that fits that key Cordelia gave you. And it’s in this direction.” He pointed his nose in the direction of the forest.

I remembered the odd verse the ghost of Natalie’s grandmother had chanted as I drifted through the doorway.

“Seek the house which haunted be,

Find the lock that fits the key.

Wake the one who sleeps inside

And bring him to the other side.”

I whispered the words to myself, wondering how I had managed to memorize them so perfectly when I had only heard them once. Then I really thought about them.

“Hey, I don’t want to go to a haunted house—especially not in the middle of the night,” I protested to Bartleby, who was winding himself impatiently around my ankles again.

“It’s not the middle of the night—it’s just after nine,” he sniffed and I had an idea if a cat could scowl, he would be scowling. “Look, I can’t rest until I bring you to the house—Cordelia ordered me to do it.”

“Why, so I can get eaten by a monster?” I asked, but nevertheless, I found myself walking again, following the road into the dark forest.

“Naturally not—you can’t break the curse if you’re eaten by a monster. Besides, we’re still within the bubble that surrounds Hidden Hollow. You’ll be safe enough,” he said.

“Hidden Hollow?” I frowned down at him. “Is that the town at the other end of the road?”

“Of course. You can visit it tomorrow. For now, let’s find that house.”

He scurried ahead of me, and I hurried to catch him.

“What curse are you talking about? And how do I break it?”

But it seemed that Bartleby was tired of talking. He just kept running ahead, as though he expected me to follow him.

Which of course, I did. I was wholly convinced I was in the middle of a dream now—the most elaborate and realistic dream I’d ever had. I could see the full moon through the branches of the trees overhead—they formed a kind of tunnel around the road. I could hear the dry leaves rustling around me and feel the cold, rough road under my bare feet—which were also getting quite cold. And I could smell the Autumn scents that had swirled around me when the magical doorway opened.

I shivered as I hurried after the cat. Where was he leading me? Wherever it was, I hoped it was nice and not frightening. Despite the dark woods we were walking through, this particular dream didn’t seem like a nightmare. I had no sense of foreboding—I suppose that was the reason I was willing to follow the cat into the forest in the first place.

At last, after walking for what felt like a mile but was probably only a quarter of that, we came to a metal gate on the side of the road. It was higher than my head and didn’t appear to be locked. But what caught my eye was the stern-looking gryphon that had been worked into the metal at the top. The icy moonlight skated over it, picking out every detail from the fierce eyes to the lashing lion’s tail.

“Oh,” I breathed, stopping in front of it. “It’s like the top of the key!”

Looking down, I saw that I was still clutching it in my hand. I held it up and saw that it was identical to the one on the gate. Could this really be the house this key was meant for?

“Yes, this is the house the key is meant for,” Bartleby said and I realized I must have spoken my last thought aloud. “Why else would I bring you here?” he demanded.

I looked past the metal gate and saw the house in question—it was a big, spooky Victorian mansion that looked like it ought to have a neon sign flashing “HAUNTED.” And in fact, it was supposed to be haunted—the weird rhyme that Nana Cordelia had spoken guaranteed it. Plus, I could feel that itching between my shoulder blades and the pricking in my thumbs again.

“Huh-uh, nope. Not going in there.” I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head. “That’s way too creepy for me.”

“You have to go!” Bartleby insisted. He nudged the tall metal gates with his nose and they swung silently open. “See? The house is waiting for you.”