Darby adjusted her glasses with shaky fingers, so small and frail like everything in her bedroom. "Are you going to tell Dad about me? About what I did in the attic and that it really worked?"

I studied her for a long moment while the worry behind those words threatened to blow me over. After being possessed by an eyeless, black-cloud-oozing ex-news reporter, that was what made her push her heels into the carpet. Yeah, she remembered none of it, but I remembered every single ...