Page 3

“I don’t. Remember you,” I said. “But I’ve seen pictures.” Was that rude? I couldn’t tell. I didn’t exactly have a lot of practice talking to people.

“Well, it’s very good to see you again,” he said, gracefully ignoring my fumbling. His expression was friendly and open.

It wouldn’t last, I reminded myself. It never did.

“And, um. This is my—this is Simon,” Mom said, gesturing. Simon stepped forward. He and Caleb shook hands, nodded at each other, and stepped back. And then we were done with introductions, and there seemed to be nothing else to say.

Caleb cleared his throat. “We’ve got rooms made up if you want to claim a couple before things get started.”

“No,” Mom said immediately. “We’re staying in town. Heading home in the morning.”

“At the Starlight?” Caleb asked skeptically. “You’d be a lot more comfortable here.”

“I’m not spending another night under this roof,” Mom said. “I’m here to pay my respects. Then we’re gone. You can’t ask anything more of me, Caleb. You can’t.”

“I won’t,” he said reassuringly, hands upheld in surrender. “But it’s been a long time, Rachel. It might be time to make peace.”

“When has this family ever been able to let something go?” Mom asked.

He rubbed the back of his head. “Fair point. Change isn’t easy. But it’s possible. At least I have to believe so.”

“We’ll see,” she said tightly.

A young man in a suit vest trotted down the steps. For a moment, I thought he must be family, but then he spoke in a deferential tone. “Ma’am, I’ll take your car around back for you,” he said. Right. This place hadhelp. We didn’t even have a functioning dishwasher.

“Hold on!” I said. I scrambled back to the car and grabbed my backpack, a green canvas bag that had been scuffed, ripped, and patched over the years. It didn’t exactly go with the subdued blue dress and pumps I’d chosen for the funeral, but I didn’t go anywhere without it.

I slipped my hand inside, feeling for the bundle of cloth nestled there and the skull wrapped protectively within it. It was like an anchor, a tiny piece ofmethat I could be certain of.

I walked back over to Mom, wobbling when my foot landed wrong. I was remembering why I never wore heels. This placebetter not be haunted. If a ghost chased me down a long shadowy corridor, I was going to break an ankle.

“Everyone’s inside,” Caleb said as the car pulled away. “But you can take a moment if you need it.”

“Better just get it over with,” Mom said. Her fingers knotted together. “Ready to meet the family?” she asked me.

“Too late to back out now. That guy stole our car,” I said with false bravado. Mom chuckled. And then she leaned close to me and dropped her voice.

“Be careful,” she said. “Our family is not like other families. They will test you, and if they find you wanting, they will make you miserable. If you give them any power over you, any at all, they will carve you up to fit whatever mold they’ve made for you. Don’t let them.”

They were words she’d said to me before. Not all at once, but in bits and pieces—when I asked why we didn’t talk to her parents, why I’d never met my cousins. But now there was a frantic edge to them, as if she were realizing this was her last chance to warn me.

“We’re not staying,” I reminded her. “Besides, I don’t care what these people think of me. I’m here foryou.”

She nodded, but she looked troubled. Her hand on my shoulder gripped hard enough to send little jolts of pain into the joint. Caleb gestured, motioning us to follow. I ignored my fear, every instinct screaming at me to run. I walked forward.

Harrow drew us in.

2

BEYOND THE HUGEoak doors lay a brilliantly lit entryway, a massive chandelier hanging from its vaulted ceiling. A pair of staircases rose at the back of the foyer, leading to a balcony on the second floor.

“This way,” Caleb said, walking straight through toward the hall at the rear. Caleb led us down a thickly carpeted corridor, both expansive and claustrophobic with its wood paneled walls and poor lighting. It smelled of dust, but I couldn’t see a single speck on any surface. Maybe houses this old always smelled of dust.

We came to a set of double doors, and Caleb flung them open, revealing an opulent blue-carpeted room. At the far end, somberly dressed strangers stood in a small clot, talking among themselves—but as soon as the door opened, conversation died. Everyone turned toward us. I resisted the urge to step behind my mom.

“Well. You made it, then,” came a voice, thin with age but with a core of iron. An old woman sat in a wingback chair, one hand resting atop a polished black cane. Her hair was snow white and expertly coiled on top of her head, and a three-stranded string of pearls fell to her sternum.

“Mother,” Mom said uncertainly. She reached over and gripped my shoulder. “Helen, this is your grandmother.”