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Silence again.

Nate pressed play. On screen, the seal rocked twice, gathered itself, and lunged a minuscule distance. They watched it together, all the way to the quivering stop.

Leo muttered a curse and then, very indignantly, he said, “I’d like to see you cross a counter with no arms and no legs.”

“It was a good plan,” Nate said, feeling generous. “You didn’t succeed, though.”

The seal seemed briefly unsure what to do with that. Then: “Your viewers will see the moving stuffed toy and then they’ll know this house is cursed and no one will come here again.”

“I cut you out.”

“What?”

“I cut you out of the video. It’s already uploaded.” Nate closed the laptop. “As far as my viewers know, this is a normal house with ugly cabinets.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I edit everything. That’s part of the job.”

“I worked all morning!” The seal rocked with outrage. “You had no right to — that was my — I don’t care about your stupid video.”

“Uh-huh.”

Nate stood, tucked the laptop under his arm, and, on a whim, picked up the seal with his free hand.

“What are you doing. Put me down. Nate. Where are we going?”

“To the sitting room. It’s midnight.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me!”

“Would you rather stay by yourself in the kitchen all night?”

“Of course I would!”

“Uh-huh.” Nate crossed into the sitting room. “Too bad for you I don’t sleep well without my seal and you’re currently inhabiting it.” Nate set the laptop by the paint bucket, climbed into the sleeping bag, and tucked the seal into the crook of his arm, where Bartholomew had slept for twenty years.

The seal went rigid. “You’re doing this to punish me!”

“It’s not a punishment.”

“I hate this,” Leo claimed. “I hate you. I hate your face and your videos and your stupidly strong arms.”

“Goodnight, Leo.”

No answer.

Nate was nearly asleep when he felt it — the seal, very slowly, going soft against his side.

Settling.

He knew better than to say anything.

Chapter

Eight

The next afternoon, the medium decided to film in the kitchen again.