It was the middle of the night and Robert was snoring. Since moving back in with his brothers, Henry was stuck sharing a small room with both Robert and Jacob. Sleeping no a thin mattress on the floor didn't help Henry's normally restless sleeping habits. 

There wasn't a night since the fire that Henry didn't have nightmares.

This night was no different as he awoke in a jolt, covered in sweat and panting for air. It was the dream about the fire again.

When Henry was fourteen years old, their family home burned to the ground in the middle of the night. He remembered his father waking him in the dead of the night, telling him to take Robert and Jacob to the neighbor's farm.

"But the McCallister's are so far away?" he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His father, always a calm and patient man, grabbed Henry roughly by the shirt.

"You do what I say right now, you got that?"

"Yes, papa," Henry whimpered.

Rousting Robert and Jacob, the three brothers put on their shoes and jackets and headed down the stairs. Even in his dream, Robert could smell the fire. Feel the heat. But worst of all, hear the sounds of his mother screaming from the kitchen. 

"I want mama," cried Jacob, then only nine years old. Their father pushed the boys toward the door and saw them down the stairs. By now Henry could  see the amber glow of the flames and hear the cracking roar. Once he'd walked the three boys our into the front yard, he kissed them each on the forehead and grabbed Henry by the shoulder. It was the only time Henry ever saw his father cry.

"Get your bothers out of here and you don't come back, you got that?"

Henry tearfully obeyed, dragging Robert and Jacob through the wilderness in the darkness. When they arrived at the McCallister's home, Henry remembered bagging on the door and screaming for help until Mr. McCallister flung open the door with his gun at the ready.

"You boys'll catch the death of cold out here!" Mrs. McCallister cried when she pushed past her husband. She ushering the three frightened boys into the kitchen. While Robert and Jacob drank the glasses of milk Mrs. McCallister handed them, Henry did his best to faithfully retell the events of the evening to Mr. McCallister.

"Mary, you stay here with the boys. I'm going to check on John. Something doesn't sound right about all this," Mr. McCallister said, fastening his coat and securing his hat. Henry noticed that he took his gun with him.

Mr. McCallister did not return until dawn.

The fire consumed the Glass home completely, leaving behind little more than ash. No sign of Henry's parents were ever found.

The only surviving structure were the naked stones of the fireplace like a black, misshapen spine. Henry and his two brothers remained at the McCallister home until word was sent to their lone relative up in Baltimore; a bachelor uncle whom the boys had never met nor heard their parents mention. While they waited for their new guardian to figure out how to transport the brothers north to their new home, Henry determined to satisfy his curiosity and returned to the site where his home once stood.

He hoped there would be something that would help it all make sense, something that would explain why his father went back and while his mother was screaming. Henry spied the piles of upturned ash with curiosity, the places where people dug through the home's remains for artifacts or remains. 

Hot tears tumbled down Henry's cheeks as he surveyed the devastation on his face and did not fight them. As he stood in the wreckage where their front porch once stood, he was glad he didn't bring Robert and Jacob with him. They were too young, it would have been too much. It was almost too much for Henry.

He was just about to head back to the McCallister's when he noticed something protruding from the ash near the fireplace. Henry went over to investigate. He leaned down and plucked the object up from the ash. His dirty, curious fingers explored it's edges and wiped it clean.

It was a book, but not one Henry ever saw in their home before.

Growing up, Henry knew the only book in their home was the Bible. This book was not the Bible.

As Henry sat up in bed, catching his breath. He knew he had to make sure it was secure. Careful not to wake Robert, he crept out of the bedroom and into the small kitchen area. The room housed a porcelain sink and a potbelly stove with barely room for the table and chairs where the brothers ate their meals.

Henry carefully slid the chairs aside to access the pair of floorboards. Concealed below the floor was the book Henry found as a child. Laying on his stomach with an arm crooked under the floorboards, Henry didn't remove the book from its hiding space. Just the touch of its worn cover gave him reassurance that it was still there. He'd kept it secret from both Robert and Jacob all these years, and he hoped one day he could find a way to destroy it. 

Until then, it remained hidden.

Henry carefully replaced the boards and returned the chairs to their proper place when he heard a commotion at the front of the shop. The brother's small apartment was located at the rear of the building, with the large front room set-up as an office space. Featuring a large window facing Pratt Street, the office area boasted desks and chairs for each of the brothers and a small couch for clients. 

Careful to remain quiet, Henry crept toward the front of the shop to investigate the noise. Holding his lantern out before him, the glow cast hard shadows on a man crouched over in the doorway.

"Jacob?" he asked. His brother nearly fell over as he attempted to remove his boots.

"Henry? What in the dickens are you doing up?"

"I was about to ask you the same?" Henry looked his brother up and down, from bleary eyes to single boot on his foot. "You're drunk again, aren't you?"

"I've had a few drinks. A little harmless fun is all," Jacob replied with a smirk. When he tried to push past Henry toward the apartment door, Henry stopped him.

"We're trying to run a respectable business now. We can't have you gallivanting about at the pubs every night and giving us an even worse reputation."

"We?" Jacob quipped. "You mean you?"

"You know that's not what I mean."

Jacob swayed as he talked, letting the emotion and alcohol in his veins take over. "You know, Robert and I don't really need you here. It's our business, not yours."

"I understand that," Henry replied sternly, "I'm just trying to make sure you don't--"

"Ruin all your great prospects?" Jacob snapped. 

Henry clamped his jaw tight, biting back his anger. He felt his hands form tight fists. Jacob always drew a special kind of pleasure from pushing Henry to lose his temper. After the conversation with Mr. Marshall and the horrible nightmares, Henry knew it wouldn't take much more pushing. He breathed deeply before replying as calmly as possible.

"I think you should go to bed now. We'll talk about this in the morning."

Jacob laughed and shook his head. Nearly a head shorter than Henry, Jacob walked up to his brother and poked him in the chest.

"We're not done here," he slurred.

Henry shoved Jacob away, nearly knocking him to the ground. "Yes we are."

Henry turned to go back to bed when Jacob sprang onto his back with a scream. Henry spun around and hurled Jacob off. Jacob crashed into the desk before thudding to the floor.

"What the hell's gotten into you?" Henry shouted.

Though his lip was split and bleeding down his chin, Jacob came back at Henry with a swift punch to the jaw. The blow knocked Henry off balance and he grabbed at the coat rack to retain his balance. Jacob fell upon Henry again and the two erupted into a full brawl in the middle of the office.

Mercifully, it only took a few minutes before Robert burst into the room. Shouting their names, he frantically ripped the two apart. 

"What on earth are you doing?" Robert cried. He glanced over toward his desk where his own chair lay broken, an unfortunate casualty in the fight. Distraught, he walked over and tried to snap the legs back into the base.

"Everything's fine," Henry said, catching his breath. His right cheek was bright red from being punched and his hair a disheveled mess. Jacob looked worse for the wear with his already previously injured eye and bloodied mouth.

"We were just having a little disagreement. We'll clean everything up," Jacob added.

"Unbelievable!" Robert said, throwing the chair pieces onto the floor and marching back toward the apartment. Henry and Jacob jumped when he slammed the door behind him.

Jacob chuckled briefly. Then Henry joined in as they both pulled up chairs and straightened their shirts. Jacob wiped his mouth and surveyed the long streak of blood on his sleeve with a grin.

"Lovely. So what was that really all about, then?" Jacob asked. When Henry shot him a confused look, Jacob only laughed. "Come out with it already!"

"It's Faye," Henry sighed. "Her father is making me break off our engagement."

Jacob pulled out a handkerchief and lightly dabbed his busted lip. "I see. You know, there are certainly less messy ways to express your emotions."

Henry released a small chuckle.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I just don't know what to do? Rolland wants me to come by tomorrow and personally break it off." Henry closed his eyes and kneaded them with his fingers.

"Shame. I liked Faye," Jacob said, genuine remorse in his voice. Henry leaned back with a sigh

"Her father is strangely fixated on my reputation as of late, which makes me wonder if he maybe has someone else in mind for Faye. Someone more prestigious."

"More prestigious than ghost hunters? Impossible."

"Joke all you'd like, but I have until two o'clock tomorrow to think of something."

"You're the smart one, I'm sure you'll figure it out," Jacob replied with his slightly drunken smile. "What was it father used to say, every storm will soon pass?"

"He was far more optimistic than I am," Henry grumbled, rising to his feet and walking toward the apartment door. "Besides, didn't do him a lot of good in the end, did it?"