The house felt heavier than before, every shadow a whisper of danger. I clutched Marga’s small hand in mine as we moved from the kitchen to the living room, her other hand gripping my shirt like a lifeline. Even with Ezekiel beside us, the memory of Celeste’s cold, deliberate steps lingered in the air, a phantom pressing down on us.

“She’s clever,” Ezekiel muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the windows, the doors, even the corners where shadows pooled. “Too clever. She ...