Penelope found herself walking down a sterile white hallway, one that felt both familiar and foreign. There was a window at the end and the sun coming through was too bright, making the polished floor underfoot shine like a mirror, blinding her. And though Penelope dreaded what she would find when she made it to the end of that hall, she kept walking.

It was only once she had reached the end, reached the room through the very last door, that she realized her father was with her. It seemed obvious—of course, he was here. His wife was in that room.

Her mother.

She felt her father's hand at the small of her back, gently guiding her through the door. She didn't want to go in, but she had to.

In that room—in that small, terrible little room—her mother was laid in a bed, strung up with wires. So much had already been taken from her. Her cheeks were gaunt and there were deep shadows under her eyes. She was not her usual vibrant, hardy self. She was a shadow of herself, diminished under the harsh fluorescents.

Her mother looked up as they entered. She gave them a weak smile as if to comfort them even though she was the one recovering from surgery—the surgery that was meant to cut out the cancer but instead had only found more.

Penelope went to the far side of the bed, turning her back to the window. She took her mother's hand; she trembled as she felt how loose her wedding ring was on her too-thin fingers.

There were no more ifs, no more buts...

No more hope.

Her mother was going to die.

Something slammed into the window behind her, rattling the glass.

Penelope dropped her mother's hand and spun around.

A sleek black bird was sitting on the sill, shaking its head out. A raven. It paused, like it felt her gaze on it, then raised its head and stared at her with its gleaming black eyes.

"FOLLOW ME," it croaked.

Penelope lurched up with a gasp. She wasn't in a hospital, but in the back room of the cabin, twisted in the sheets of the small bed.

She sighed. It was the same dream again. Well, almost the same, aside from the addition of the raven. Her past and her present had twisted up together to spin out a whole new nightmare.

"Another day in paradise," she muttered to herself.

There was a sharp tap-tap at the window next to the bed.

"What the...?" Penelope mumbled, reaching for the cord of the blinds. "Dad?" He had always been an early riser and got impatient if she slept in too long. She didn't often sleep in but she hadn't been sleeping well as of late...

She pulled the cord and the blinds shot up, expecting to see the stubbly smile of her dad.

Instead, she found a fat little raven pressing itself against the glass.

The bird bobbed its little head, tapping at the glass, before croaking out a stilted, "FOLLOW. ME."

Penelope stared at it. If she didn't know any better, she'd think it was the same bird who had harassed her for her donut.

"How long have you been sitting there?" she said, leaning closer. No wonder she was dreaming of ravens with this dummy tap-tap-tapping at her bedroom window.

"FOLLOW ME?" it croaked again, blinking its beady eyes. The way it raised its mimicking little voice at the end made it sound like a question.

Penelope rolled her eyes. "Go away you little bugger," she said before yanking the cord again, dropping the blinds.

She turned her back on the window and threw off the covers, stretching herself out. She was stiff from her muscles clenching up during her nightmare. Pulling on her favourite hoodie and putting her still-silenced phone in her pocket, she padded out into the kitchen to find her dad.

To her surprise, her father wasn't there. Breakfast was, though. On the counter was a full tray of danishes and a carafe of take-out coffee. Penelope helped herself to both, filling the largest mug she could find and selecting a cheese danish, before going to look for her dad. There was no note, so he couldn't have gone far.

He wasn't in the living room—which she could see from the kitchen—and he wasn't in the loft, either. It wasn't until she heard voices outside that she headed that way.

As she stepped out onto the doorstep, she found the truck was still there, but not her dad. As she looked around, she was surprised to find the fat little raven again, now hopping around on the ground near her feet... almost like it had been waiting for her to come out. It looked up at her and her danish, opening its mouth expectantly.

Penelope narrowed her eyes at the bird but tore off an edge of her danish and dropped it.

The bird squawked happily before leaping on the bit of danish. It picked it up in its beak before flying off into the trees to eat it.

Her dad finally appeared, coming around the edge of the cabin. He had a tackle box in one hand and a couple of fishing rods in the other.

"Pen—Peaseblossom!" he called when he saw her. "I was just about to go knock on your window. I see you found the danishes."

"Mm-hm," Penelope said, finally taking a bite of her own. It was good. "What're you doing?"

"We-ell," he said, drawing the word out as he dumped the tackle box and rods into the back of his truck. "Beth and her wife invited us to go fishing on the lake. I mentioned it yesterday."

Did he? If he had, but Penelope didn't remember. "Oh," she said, feeling dumb. "Sorry. I forgot."

"I figured," he said, smiling, not at all angry. He was good for that. "You've been distracted. I also figured you wouldn't know if you wanted to go until day of... So, what do you think? Do you want to go fishing?"

Penelope tilted her head she thought of it. She hadn't been fishing since she was little and she didn't mind it then...

"If you don't want go, you don't have to," her dad added. "Just thought you'd like the option to get out of the cabin."

Yes, Penelope would've liked to get out of the cabin. But the company... Beth and her wife were nice enough, she didn't relish the idea of making awkward small talk and dodging questions.

"I might just hang back today," Penelope said after a moment. "But you should go. Don't sit out on my account."

Her dad smiled, nodding. "I won't," he said, pulling her in for a quick hug. "Not when the fish are calling my name."

"All ready, Craig?" Beth called from over by the front-office-slash-house.

"Almost!" he called back, before turning back to Penelope. "We'll be back before sundown. But if you need me, I've got my cell on me. Just call and I'll come right back."

"Don't worry about me," Penelope said. "I'll be fine."

"Are you coming with us, Peaseblossom?" Beth asked as she walked over to them. She already had her big waders on.

"Not this time," her dad answered for us.

"A shame," Beth said, walking up to them. "You have your cell on you, right Craig? If she needs you?"

"Of course," her dad replied, confidently patting down his pockets... then his smile fell. "Or maybe not. I'll go grab it."

Beth and Penelope chuckled as her dad disappeared into the cabin. "Don't worry about him," she said to Penelope. "We're not going far, just to the other side of the lake. But if you can't reach him, you can call me. Just ask my son or my brother—they both have my number." She pointed over Penelope's shoulder.

Penelope turned, her gaze following Beth's finger.

Just as Beth said, there was Liam and the groundskeeper at the edge of the forest, close to the path. The groundskeeper was Beth's brother, then—Liam's uncle. The two of them were busy at work, cutting down large swathes of greenery. Penelope noticed that there was a large pile of the same nearby.

"Those are pretty," Penelope said, looking closer. Bright purple, bell-shaped flowers that ran along long green stems. "Why are you cutting them down?"

"It's foxglove," Beth said, her mouth tightening into a line. "It's an invasive species. Spreads like wildfire and chokes out everything around it."

"And it's poisonous," Liam said as he approached with a large bundle in his arms. He was wearing long sleeves and thick gloves, despite the heat already thick in the air. "So don't touch it."

"I won't," Penelope said, turning away again. She didn't want to continue any conversation with him. She didn't like how he looked at her—with such an unfriendly gaze.

Fortunately, Liam didn't seem to want to linger, either. He headed back to his uncle's side, ready to gather more foxglove.

"Y'know, you don't have to fish to come with us," Beth said.

"Huh?" Penelope replied.

"You don't have to fish," Beth repeated. "I don't. It's more of Lyla's thing. She's a pescatarian and it's something about knowing where her food comes from. I just like being out on the lake. It's beautiful out there. Peaceful."

"Peaceful," Penelope echoed.

"You seem like you need a bit of peace," Beth said, giving her a gentle smile.

Her dad rushed out of the cabin, waving his ancient little phone in the air. "Got it! I'm good to go!" he called.

"Great," Beth said. "Lyla just texted. She's got the boat all ready." She turned back to Penelope. "Last call, Peaseblossom."

"I'll be okay."

"Next time, then," Beth said, giving her a smile before heading towards the truck.

"Let's go!" Penelope's dad said.

Penelope waved as her dad and Beth climbed into the truck and pulled out.

By the time they were out of sight, Liam was back, along with the groundskeeper. They had amassed a large pile of the offending plant, plus clumps of dirty roots. The groundskeeper pulled out some yard waste bags and the two of them began to bundle up the pretty but toxic flowers. Penelope wasn't particularly interested, but with nothing else to do, she sat on the small doorstep, sipping at her coffee, watching them.

Liam didn't seem to like that. He'd look in her direction every now and again and frown. Penelope didn't care, just kept drinking her coffee. It was nice out here. It was still early enough that the campsite was quiet, and the warm morning air felt nice.

She was thinking she'd go for a walk around the lake when she heard the sound of tires on gravel. She turned, expecting to see her dad's truck pull up. She thought that maybe her father had forgotten something else, but she soon realized that it wasn't her dad at all.

Instead, a brand-new black truck, huge and shiny like it had been freshly washed, pulled up alongside her cabin.

"Sonuvabitch," grumbled Liam's uncle as he caught sight of the truck. He shoved the half-full bag he was holding into Liam's hands. "Can you finish this for me? I've gotta go."

"Sure," Liam said with a shrug.

Penelope watched as Liam's uncle marched towards the house, ripping off his gloves as he went, before slamming the house's door behind him.

What's eating him? Penelope wondered.

But before she could mull it over, the door to the newly arrived truck popped open.

Out stepped the town's mayor—Gunnar. He was wearing expensive shades that he pushed back into his blonde hair. His icy blue eyes grazed over Liam and the pile of foliage before finally landing on Penelope.

"Well, hello there!" he said, walking right up to her. "Just the gal I wanted to see."

"M-Me?" Penelope sputtered, leaving her coffee mug on the stoop and getting to her feet. Despite the warmth of the day, she felt a chill move over her skin. Something about the way he spoke put her on edge.

"Y'know, I figured it out," Gunnar said, his blue eyes sparkling with something mischievous. "I figured out what I recognized you from! You're that ghost-hunter!"

Penelope froze. It felt like she had been dropped into ice water. Her chest seized, refusing to let a breath through.

"W-What?" she gasped. Her gaze shot over to Liam, wondering if he'd heard; he was close and the mayor was loud.

But Liam didn't react. It was his turn to watch her.

"Come on, now," Gunnar continued. "You're Paranelope, right?"

Her heartbeat rang in her head like a bell. She couldn't think of how to respond. "I-I..."

The mayor didn't need her to. "I was confused at first, when your father introduced you as Peaseblossom—such a weird name—but I guess that's what you do when you want to lay low, huh?" He laughed, a loud, booming sound. "You must be pretty famous if you have to use fake names and disguises." His gaze roved to her new black hair.

Infamous, maybe, Penelope thought. "How did you...?"

"I've been researching paranormal investigators to invite to the festival," he waved his hand like it obvious, though his smile was smug. "And you came up. How lucky is that?"

Penelope didn't consider it lucky at all.

"So, is this how you vacation?" Gunnar babbled on, laughing again. "We're glad to have you. Like I said, you've got good timing. We'd love to have you at the festival—"

"You sure about that?" Liam chimed in, calling over the pile of greenery.

"Huh?" Gunnar said, turning to Liam like he only just now realized he was there. As he caught sight of him, he scowled. "What are you on about?"

"Haven't you done your research?" Liam replied. "She's a fake."

Another icy shock ran through Penelope. So Liam knew her, too.

That would explain his dirty looks.

Gunnar rolled his eyes at Liam. "I don't really care. She's a big name and it'd look good on the ads. Besides," He shot a wink at Penelope like he was in on the joke, "it's always fake, isn't it?"

Penelope stayed frozen and couldn't bring herself an answer.

This was every horrible thing she imagined coming true.

"Usually, but she was caught faking," Liam said, his voice strangely hard, "so I don't think you want her associated with the festival. Might bring bad press."

"Is that so?" the mayor said, though he didn't look too bothered. "Well, there's no such thing as bad press. All publicity is good publicity." He turned back to Penelope.

"Besides, all the better. Maybe you can help me make a video of our dear Raven."

That pulled Penelope out of her shock. "Excuse me?"

"Your videos looked pretty damn convincing," the mayor continued. "So, if you're that good at faking, then maybe you could use some of that magic," he wiggled his fingers like a cartoon wizard, "for us."

Penelope just stared at him. Just when she was starting to get excited about the mystery of the Raven... the mayor had to come along and reveal that it was all a lie, too.

Was there an honest person left in this world?

"We don't have to attach your name to it, if you want to stay under the radar" Gunnar added, tapping at his nose. "And I would happily pay."

"No, no. I don't," Penelope sputtered, staggering back, away from him. "I didn't... I don't do that..."

"Sure you do," Liam chimed in, his tone mocking now. "People have lied about a lot more to get three million subscribers."

"Mind your own damn business, Liam!" Gunnar spat.

But it was too late. Penelope couldn't stop the tears now. They slid down her face before she could catch them.

"I have to go," she sputtered, then turned and ran.

She ran blindly for the forest—she didn't know where she was going, but she wasn't going to stay here.

"Oh, well done," she heard the mayor snap at Liam say as she fled. Liam said something in return, but she was already too far to hear it.

The next few moments were a blur, but when she came to, she had ended up at the small private beach. She vaguely remembered stepping off the path, running through the forest, but not much else. She dropped onto the nearest log. It was perfectly quiet here, too, just the sounds of the lake and her own rough sobs.

She pulled out her phone. She hated to interrupt her dad's fishing trip before it even began, but she needed him. She wanted to get out of this damned town as soon as possible.

Her phone was still in airplane mode, so she switched it off, bracing for the wave of messages. She hurried, swiping instead to the phone screen, intending to call her Dad. But before she could, her phone began to ring in her hand. Startled, Penelope dropped the phone and it clattered onto the rocks.

She expected some unknown number, some internet troll looking to deliver their hateful message in person.

But she knew the number that appeared on the screen. Her blood ran cold as she saw the name attached: Daevon.