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Alice’s reflection shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

“If Hugo is still here, then why didn’t he answer?” Alice asked.

“Stop. Don’t. Don’t ruin this for us.”

“Why didn’t he answer?”

Alice’s reflection dragged her hands across her jaw, her fingertips ensnaring her chin. She exhaled a deep breath. “Please don’t do this to us. He was screaming. It might have been for help.”

Alice lowered the hockey stick. Tears welled in her eyes. “What if he was screaming to leave him alone? Why else wouldn’t he answer?”

“What if he’s in trouble?”

“What ifwe’rethe trouble?” Alice asked.

Alice’s reflection shook her head. “Try again. Please. For me.”

Alice struggled to hold back the tears. She slumped her shoulders and bowed her head. The thought of Hugo not wanting to return weighed heavy on her. She needed a hug.

“Please,” Alice’s reflection said, her voice cracking as she begged. “Please try once more for me. You have too.”

Alice wiped away a tear. “I-I need supplies for extra protection. I’ll get some tomorrow and try again.”

“Thank you,” Alice’s reflection whispered.

Hugo’s hockey stick dragged on the black and white tiled floor as Alice left the bathroom.

Chapter 5

The First Trial

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound repeated over and over. A relentless onslaught of the ears. The sound of someone or something trying to escape from one of the mismatched houses. The knocks drowned out the sound of the tormented wails emanating from the various ghouls shambling around. The black carriage and the Rider stood guard at the end of the walkway.

Hugo studied the various street paths and houses surrounding the purple Folk Victorian imitation of his home. Countless houses and paths. A maze set before him, and he had no idea if he was at the center or on the edge. The sky was a swirling gray of eternal dusk. He paced back and forth on the gray, octagon shaped porch, with his arms folded and a stern gaze.

Time had lost all meaning. It could have been an hour, a day, or a year. He lost track of it all. The only thing he could track was the constant knocking.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“What’s the noise?” Hugo asked.

“You will have to be a little more specific,” Thaddeus responded.

The howls of the ghastly ghouls wailed throughout the landscape like the sound of a death rattle.

“The knocks. What are the knocks?”

“Ah.” Thaddeus stood up from leaning on the porch railing. “A good question. They started shortly after you arrived. I do not know yet. My guess is someone has been driven to the point of madness and is trying to escape. Funny. I would have thought the transformation process would take hold first.”

Hugo stopped. “You keep mentioning transition and transformation. To what? Will I become like them?”

Thaddeus shrugged. “Depends.”

“Depends onwhat?” Hugo shouted.

“I told you. How strong-willed you are.” Thaddeus touched his hands to his chest, his fingertips holding them aloft. “I am here to help you. I am rooting for you. I want to see you succeed.”