He moved in front of the car, checked the ground. “I don’t think we hit her,” he whispered, then gestured toward the sidewalk. He looked back at me, put a finger to his lips. I nodded my agreement. I wanted to hear her coming. Staying quiet was the only chance I’d have for that.

We stepped onto the sidewalk, bricks in a herringbone pattern that no longer lay flat, and trod carefully over the uneven surface. There were two houses with a small strip of grass and rocks in between. Probably where the homeowners had parked their cars. One of the houses was a narrow town house. The other was a white two-story house with Greek columns running down the front, and a triangular roof on top.

Liam crouched down, checked the ground, then gestured toward the columned house. He must have seen footprints.

I followed him to the porch, and he took a careful step onto it. Seven years without maintenance could create a lot of problems. When it held his weight, he gestured for me to follow him.

The door was open. He pushed it open a little more, waited in the doorway for any sign of life—or wraith. There was nothing, so he stepped inside.

The wind was picking up, leaves and debris stirring on the porch as I followed Liam into the house. It was pitch-black and smelled dusty. Musty. The humans who’d stayed behind probably would have cleaned it out of anything valuable. But that didn’t mean a wraith wouldn’t nest here.

We let our eyes adjust to the darkness, until we could tell the house’s central hallway split off into rooms on the left and right.

A sound broke the silence—a warbling moan, definitely female. It seemed to come from every room, and set every hair on my body on end.

Was the wraith calling out to us? Or to more wraiths?

“She’s making noises,” Liam whispered. He was close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body. That comforted me more than it should have.

“Which direction?” he asked quietly.

“I couldn’t tell.” And now I could barely hear over the beating of my own heart. Facing down a wraith on a well-lit street was one thing. Wandering through a dark and abandoned house in a dark and abandoned city was something completely different. I didn’t believe in ghosts; but if I did, I’d have believed they lived here, in this memorial to a different time.

The sound echoed through the house again.

“I’ll go left,” I whispered. “You go right.”

He grabbed my hand. “You’ll stay with me.”

“We don’t have time for that. The house is too big. We go together, we might miss her, and we’ll never find her again in the dark.”

We stood there in silence for a moment. “If you need me, call my name.”

“I will.”

And then he stepped away, letting the chill settle between us again.

I moved to the threshold of the first room, walked inside. I could see the silhouettes of furniture, a mirror above a fireplace that reflected only darkness.

I paused, waited to hear movement, or more sounds, but there was nothing. A breeze blew from a doorway on the other side of the room.

I walked toward it, jumped when I ran into a spiderweb dangling from the ceiling, pushed it away.

The next room was a kitchen. A U-shaped set of cabinets with an island in the middle, a small table and ladder-back chairs on the other side of the room. It still looked clean—no piles of empty cans and bottles. Maybe the looters hadn’t gotten to it.

She came from out of nowhere. Suddenly, she was screaming and lunging as she tried to claw at me, as if she could dig through skin to get to the magic I’d absorbed. She might have run before, but now we were in her territory. We’d cornered her, and she’d protect herself.