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A few minutes later, August appeared in the doorway, a metal dustpan dangling from his hand. “All right, I think I got them all.”

Uther scrolled more furiously. “Shit. Does anyone have a charger I can borrow?”

“We’re here for a week,” said Esther. “You didn’t pack one?”

“Mine broke like a week ago.”

“How is your phone not dead?”

He held up his phone. “Itisdead.”

“And how have you not bought a new charger in a week?”

Ashley walked past their bickering to the doorway. August had left the door open and she peered cautiously through. She wasn’t as squeamish as Uther, but?—

“Ouch!” Her head bumped something in the doorway.

But there wasn’t anything there. She held her hand up. An all-too-familiar wall blocked her entrance. Esther and Uther were back at the car digging through Esther’s bag.

“Damn it,” Ashley said. “Hey, witch! Let me in.”

August strolled down the hallway with a smirk as he leaned just inside the doorjamb and out of her reach. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

“Don’t be an ass. I’m getting in there one way or another, and the longer it takes, the more you’re going to regret sleeping in the same house as me.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “I would never.” He kicked the door open the rest of the way. “Come on in.”

“Thank yo—” Her face slammed into a still present invisible wall.

August bent over cackling.

“Damn it, witch!” She slammed her fist against the empty doorway, which made no sound and only made her look like an angry mime. “What did you do?”

Between gasps, he answered her. “You have to get Esther. She’s responsible for the house.”

“Freaking hell, August.” She kicked the doorway. “You knew that this whole damn time.”

“What’s going on?” Esther called from the car as she pulled an endless string of charging cords from her bag.

“I’m going to beat up Uther’s boyfriend,” Ashley said. “That’s what’s up.”

“Have I graduated from drowning?” August had finally recovered himself.

“The night is young.”

Ashley helped with the bags, and this time, Esther’s permission did the trick. They all piled into the living room.

It could have used a thorough dusting and run-through with a vacuum, but the space didn’t seem so bad. Or perhaps her bar had lowered so far that, as long as it wasn’t a literal pit or home to a hungry tiger, it was exceeding expectations. To the left was a simple open kitchen including a yellowing fridge, a worrisome-looking gas stove, and overhead cabinets with most of their doors intact. To the right was a sitting area, complete with a lumpy and mildly stained futon and a TV stand with no TV. Straight on from the front door was a hallway that she assumed led to the two promised bedrooms and shared bathroom.

“This isn’t so bad.” Ashley was feeling better and better about their situation. “Give me a night with some cleaning supplies, and I can shine this place up to homey levels.”

“What do you mean by homie?” asked Uther.

“You know, comfy, hygge.”

“Are you speaking Dutch?”

“I think it’s Danish.” August took Uther’s bag for him. “Come on, Uther. I’ve called dibs on our room. Just think of it as our own personal hobbit hole.”