Page 41

Call Failed.

"No."

I try again. Nothing. The signal disappears completely. Of course it does. Because apparently whatever is happening has decided basic communication is optional.

"Morrow."

He studies me with sad eyes.

"Does this happen often?"

"The phone?"

"The disappearing signal."

He nods slowly.

"At the house, yes."

The rain from last night has left everything outside shining beneath the porch lights. The cottage should feel safe. That's why I chose it. That was the entire point.

When I bought this place, everyone told me I was romanticizing it. An old Victorian cottage at the edge of Sleepy Hollow. Wraparound porch. Original hardwood floors. A garden that had probably been neglected for decades before I restored it.

They said it looked like something from a storybook. They weren't wrong. But stories have monsters too.

I never thought I would invite one inside. Or that it would arrive carrying my eyes.

"I need to check something."

Morrow follows me immediately.

"Where are you going?"

"Upstairs."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see if anything has changed."

That isn't the real answer. The real answer is because I need movement. I need to do something. Standing still while something impossible happens is not an option.

I lead him upstairs to the attic door. The old wooden stairs creak beneath my feet. I have always loved that about this house. The sounds. The personality. The feeling that every room has a history.

Now every creak feels like a warning. The attic light flickers when I pull the string.

I freeze. Morrow notices.

"You saw that."

"I did."

"You believe me now?"

The question isn't accusing. It's sad.

"I believed you before."

He looks surprised.