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Charlie told the family they’d be sleeping in the upstairs study, using sofa cushions for bedding. Really, she was just telling them to leave us the fuck alone. Thomas took the hint. “We’ll stay out of your way,” he said, his face filled with I am so sorry about this. At the very least, they were all grateful, apologetic. Even Kai.

Eve supposed she could handle one night of strangers under the roof. Besides, the weather was set to clear by sunrise. Still, she deserved some kind of medal, or maybe a story in the local paper: “Heroic Pagans Shelter Religious Fanatics from Winter Storm.” Either way, this family would be gone first thing in the morning—

You sure about that?

Eve slapped an imaginary piece of duct tape onto Mo’s mouth, shoved him into a closet, and barricaded the door.

With the family retired upstairs, Eve and Charlie were, once again, “alone” at last. They shared a blanket on the living room couch, Shylo curled up at their feet. Fireplace warmth filled the room, keeping the cold at bay, warding off shadows. Its soft crackling peppered the silence, hypnotic, soothing.

Charlie had leaned forward to grab a bottle of wine off the coffee table when her eyes caught the hammer and bent nails from before. She looked at Eve.

“I took out the nails,” Eve explained.

“From above the fireplace?”

“Yeah.”

“What?” Charlie leaned back. “That’s where I was going to hang our crucifix.”

Eve smiled. “Stop.”

“So…” Charlie twisted a corkscrew into the bottle. “Whatdya think of our new roomies?”

“Uh.” Eve hesitated. “I— something feels off.”

“No shit.” Charlie popped the cork. “Paige is a real saint.”

Eve shook her head. “No, well… yes, but there’s something else.” She fell silent, her mind again running through all the strange events. The ill-timed storm. The trail of ants. The way Thomas had stood in the cellar. The… weird vibes?

“Something else?” Charlie nudged.

Eve sighed, reluctant to say more, but: “I, I just feel like something’s wrong.”

“I need specifics.”

“Okay, fine,” Eve relented. “When you were gone Thomas and I went down to the basement to search for Jenny. We split up, looked around a little. Eventually, I rounded this corner and came across him just… standing there, blocking the only way out. Back turned. I tried calling his name like three times until he finally snapped out of it. He blamed it on bad hearing but…”

Charlie blinked at her, waiting for more. But that was it. She cleared her throat. “He was standing with his back turned, and he didn’t hear you?”

“I know, I know, but… it was the way he was standing. Like, arms straight to his sides, flashlight pointed at the ground. As if…” Eve paused. “As if he was frozen solid.” She tensed up her body to show.

“Uh-huh,” said Charlie. There was more than a hint of skepticism in her tone. Skepticism that Eve had to admit was warranted. After all, when it came to blowing things out of proportion, Eve had a long and storied track record.

Like the “Redwoods Incident”: This time when, during a camping trip, she’d been absolutely convinced a murderous bear was lurking outside their tent. In a panic, she’d shaken awake a half-drunk, sleep-deprived Charlie and urged her to investigate. Turned out the “bear” was just two bushes swaying in a breeze. An optical illusion. And that was only one example of many. In short, Eve was the type to blame a bump in the night on the Zodiac Killer. Vigilant to a fault.

Still, Eve crossed her arms, not finished yet. “Also, just before they were about to leave the first time, Thomas, he started asking me if we’d ever seen anything. Then he got interrupted…”

Palpably underwhelmed, Charlie filled her wine glass. “And… you think he had a ghost story?”

“I don’t know, maybe. He just, whatever it was, it didn’t seem like he wanted to tell me. Like he was embarrassed.”

“So… he looked embarrassed to tell you a ghost story?”

Eve threw up her hands. “I know it sounds stupid out loud, but…” She trailed off, grumpy.

“Hey.” Charlie set a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“What do you think?” Eve asked.

“About the family?”

“Yeah.”

Charlie took a small sip of wine and handed it to Eve—then she grabbed herself a beer off the table, cracked it open. “I mean, Paige aside, they seem pretty unremarkable. Or at the very least, I doubt they’re gonna murder us in our sleep.”

Eve didn’t laugh. She was too busy thinking, searching for an answer to a question she didn’t know. She stared into the fire, as if the solution might be hidden in the embers, conjured up in red, flickering letters. But of course, there was only fire, smoke, and ash. “I just, I never should have invited them in,” she thought aloud.

Charlie scoffed. “You think they’re vampires?”

“No.” Eve paused, tilting her head. “Maybe…?”

Charlie smirked and took a swig of beer.

“Would’ve been a quick night if I answered the door…”

“Hello miss.”Eve pretended to be Thomas. “Can we come in?”

“Nope.”

“Roll credits.” Eve snorted.

Just then, a shiny glint caught her eye—an oval locket, connected to a thin brass chain around Charlie’s neck. How hadn’t she noticed it before?

“What’s that?” asked Eve.

“It’s a necklace.”

“Ha.”

Charlie held it up and flicked it open. Inside was a photograph. A blurry picture of Eve, hiding her face behind one hand, shooing away the camera with the other. Eve remembered the exact moment it had been taken. When they first started dating, Eve had been notoriously camera-shy. Still was. Charlie often joked that there were “less than zero photos” of her in existence. And, believe it or not, it was almost true. Aside from driver’s licenses and the blurry backgrounds of parties and family get-togethers, Eve had somehow managed to avoid most cameras since her early twenties.

But one day, about six months into their relationship, they went for a hike up Bawlry Mountain. At the top, Charlie, wielding a 35mm Pentax, snuck up from behind. But Eve, seeing her at the last second, turned away, holding up a hand and hiding her face. Close call.

Charlie clicked the locket shut. “The only known photo of Eve Palmer…”

“When did you get it?”

“Today, in town.” She shrugged. “Kinda cheesy, huh?”

“No, I think it’s sweet,” said Eve. Charlie was never the sentimental type, but Eve was always a big sap, so the surprise, cheesy or not, was a welcome one. Their eyes locked for a long moment. Charlie set a hand on the side of Eve’s face, leaned in closer, and then—

Shylo whimpered. The dog stood at the far end of the room, tail straight, nose pointed toward the foyer.

“Shylo?”

The dog let out a low growl, punctuated by another short whine. She slunk away and cowered behind the couch. From the foyer, a gentle knock echoed. Is somebody at the door?

Charlie got up and marched over, Eve in tow. They rounded the corner. The front door was wide open, swaying in the breeze, bumping against the wall. Rhythmic. Knock, knock, knock… Snow was drifting in, collecting on the hardwood, an oblong square. In a huff, Charlie went over and started to shut the door before stopping halfway. She narrowed her eyes, peering out into the wintry black. “The hell?” She motioned Eve over.

Kneeling in the middle of the yard, obscured by shadow, Thomas. Hunched over, shaking. Charlie called out, “Thomas?” But her voice was drowned by the wind. She stepped onto the porch. A motion light snapped on, casting a harsh wedge of fluorescent glow across the yard—over Thomas. He was dressed in nightclothes, a baggy shirt and sweatpants. Snow clung to his hair, pooled on his shoulders, his skin. How long has he been out here?

“Thomas?!” Charlie tried once more.

Again, he didn’t respond, didn’t even look at them. Is he even awake?

Wasting no more time, Charlie pulled on her winter boots and jacket and stomped out toward him. Eve followed suit. As they approached, she could see his face was red, streaked with tears. His hands were clenched over his mouth, as if trying to keep unspeakable horrors from writhing out. And his eyes, bloodshot, wide, were filled with terror. The kind of dread that spread like fire. Contagion. He began to whimper, the words slipping between his fingers, frantic: “No, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I—”

His voice was childlike, high-pitched with fear—

“I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to—”

“THOMAS,” Charlie bellowed.

His head swung toward them. His hands fell to his sides, dangling like the limbs of a marionette. Then, in an instant, he snapped out of it. His terrified expression transformed to bewildered confusion. “Wh-where am—how did I?” He looked around, breath short. “Where’s my—”

“Thomas, you were sleepwalking,” said Charlie, assuming the most rational explanation.

He blinked at her, still catching his breath, still disoriented. “Where—”

“Let’s get you out of the cold—”

“Where’s Alison?” he said, half to himself. “She was just…” He looked back, out toward the dark trees, and fell silent. His breathing began to quicken. It looked like he was about to have a panic attack. That, or he was already in the middle of one. Charlie moved over and gently grabbed his shoulders, looked him in the eyes. “Just breathe in,” she said. “Breathe out, okay? You’re okay. You were only sleepwalking. Just a nightmare. Breathe in.”

He drew in a deep breath.

“Breathe out.”

He exhaled.

“Breathe in,” Charlie repeated. “Breathe out.” She’d done the same thing with Eve many times, pulling her back from the brink of countless panic attacks.

After a few more breaths, Thomas calmed. “I— I’m sorry.” He glanced around, a vague sense of relief filling his eyes: his family hadn’t witnessed the scene. He looked up at Charlie. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re good.” She helped him to his feet and threw her jacket over his shoulders. “Let’s get you inside.” As Charlie led him to the house, Eve stayed behind. Her eyes scanned the trees, the columns of dark between the snow-stained trunks. It was a sight that made her feel watched. Made her feel like something might be waiting out there. Something worse than death.

“Eve?” Charlie called out.

Eve looked over her shoulder.

Thomas and Charlie were shuffling onto the porch, outlined by the glare of the motion light. Charlie tilted her head. “You coming?”