Hunched like a dirty old vulture on an overgrown hill, the crumbling ruins of the abandoned house positively screamed "horror movie cliché". Most of the shutters had fallen off long ago, either victims of rusted nails or decades of harsh New England winters. What few remained clung to the corners of dirty, broken windows by a single nail, swinging ominously with every puff of wind. Green-grey ivy covered the roof and hung over the broken gutters in a sad attempt to mimic a mystical curtain.

"That's the Newman House," Mark whispered conspiratorially in Hannah's ear.

Hannah jumped backwards with a little shriek, the candy in her pumpkin jostling around. Instead of laughing at her reaction, her twelve-year-old cousin solemnly shook his head in silent rebuke.

Swallowing against the thumping of her heart, Hannah took a firm grip on the pumpkin's handle and looked back at the house. "How come no one's torn it down?"

Mark shrugged and adjusted his superhero mask. "Dunno. It's always been there. My dad said that it was like this when he and Aunt Kelly were kids."

Booted feet shuffled down the sidewalk. "Introducing your cousin to the Newman House?" Mark's friend Sam asked with breathless excitement. "So, what'd Marky tell you?" he asked Hannah, eyes dancing with mischief behind an elaborate cardboard mecha mask.

Hannah shrugged. "Just that it's old."

Sam nudged Mark. "You didn't tell her the story?"

Mark shrugged. Sam waved him off in good humor. "Fine, I'll tell her. You wanna hear it?"

Hannah glanced down the street at a pack of trick-or-treaters, then pulled back the ruffled cuff of her witch's costume to check the time. "Sure." Although she had a pumpkin full of candy, her heart just wasn't in it.

"Every year for the last twelve years, someone from this town has gone missing around Halloween. Rumor has it that they've all tried to enter the Newman House and died searching for its secret treasure."

Hannah raised an eyebrow. "There's treasure in there?"

"That's what I heard."

Mark snorted. "My dad said that they were just troubled kids who ran away from home."

Sam jabbed his friend in the shoulder pad. "What else do you think an adult's going to tell you?" he scoffed. "That's why I'm going to go in there tonight."

"You're going to get yourself killed," Mark warned. "It's practically falling down."

"It's been falling down for fifty years!" Sam retorted, undeterred. "You in?"

"Mmm ... maybe."

Sam pivoted towards Hannah. "How about you?"

Hannah bit her lip. On one hand, the thought of exploring an old, abandoned house in search of treasure sounded mighty appealing—but on the other hand, going into other peoples' houses uninvited was what landed her dad in jail in the first place. "No," she replied quietly, eyes fixed on the shadows playing across the sidewalk.

Sam nodded. "Fine." Shaking his ghost bag, he shuffled between the two cousins. "C'mon, I heard from McKinley Fisher that the Reillys are loaded."

Mark tipped his head at Hannah, urging her on. Walking side by side, the trio joined the steady stream of neighborhood kids flowing from doorstep to doorstep.

oOoOo

Later in her makeshift bedroom in the basement, Hannah rubbed at her eyes and rolled over. Why was it so hard to go to sleep?

"Psst—Hannah."

Hannah shot upright on the air mattress with a gasp and twisted to face the "front" of her little enclosure. A small, boy-shaped shadow appeared to levitate against the blankets.

"Mark?" Hannah asked, leaning forward.

"Shh." Mark pulled the curtain back and slid into Hannah's "room". Hannah blinked, then squinted at her cousin.

"What are you wearing?"

Mark glanced at his black hoodie, dark jeans and black sneakers as if noticing them for the first time. "Sam'n'me are headed up to the Newman House. Wanna come?"

"Are you crazy?" Hannah leaned forward. "You know my dad went to jail for breaking into homes, right?"

Mark blinked sheepishly. "Yeah, I know. But no one lives there," he reminded her hastily as Hannah frowned. "And we're not going to steal anything."

"Sam said there's supposed to be treasure," Hannah countered, still not convinced.

"Sam likes to exaggerate. Look, there he is."

Hannah turned around to see Sam's face plastered against the small basement window. The black-clothed boy waved cheerfully at her.

"C'mon, Hannah. It's just an old house. We probably won't get anywhere."

Hannah shifted on the air mattress. On the one hand, having an adventure seemed exciting; on the other, she didn't want to end up like her dad.

Sensing her reluctance, Mark stepped around the air mattress and reached up to unlatch the window. It swung inwards with a slight squeal. Hannah watched as Mark climbed onto one of her suitcases, grabbed Sam's wrists, and was hauled upwards.

"Don't lock it," Mark whispered over his shoulder. "See you later."

Hannah watched them stand up and bit her lower lip. If the house was abandoned, it couldn't be illegal—could it?

"Wait for me!" she hissed as their sneakers began to retreat.

Both boys stooped down to peer at her through the open window. Rummaging around in her suitcases, Hannah pulled out a dark blue hoodie and a pair of baggy sweat pants, which she tugged on over her jammies.

"Okay, lift me up." Standing on the suitcase, she raised both arms.

Sam grabbed one wrist, Mark the other, and pulled Hannah up.

oOoOo

The trio crept towards the Newman House, skirting through back yards and around barren oak trees as a milky mist swirled around their feet.

It was even creepier up close: dark and menacing, rising out of the mist like hellish monster. Swallowing against the dread curling in her belly, Hannah tried to look past the teeth-like broken windows ominously bared against an inky, endless maw.

"This way," Sam urged, waving them towards the back of the house.

Ducking her head, Hannah followed her cousin and his friend up a rickety porch that was missing more than a few boards. They carefully ascended the steps and tip-toed across the porch, balancing on support beams to avoid the massive holes.

Flicking on his cell phone's flashlight, Sam gestured towards the back door. In the bottom half was a hole just large enough to allow three twelve-year-olds to squeeze through.

"After you," Sam said, pointing the light inside the house.

Without hesitation, Mark turned on his flashlight and slipped through. Sam turned to Hannah. Gritting her teeth, she turned on her cell phone, following Mark inside.

A heavy weight settled around her shoulders the instant Hannah stood up. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tilted her head back to peer through the gloom. What manner of creatures lived in here? Spiders? Bats?

Vampires?

"Wow," Mark breathed, shining his light around haphazardly.

Hannah turned to follow the illuminated path: light bounced off of antique broken chairs, some resting on the floor—all with rotted legs and moldy, moth-eaten upholstery. There were tables, lamps, and the shattered carcass of what might have been a great chandelier lying in a divot in the middle of the room.

"Look!" Sam exclaimed, shining his light on a ruined staircase. "I think we can get upstairs that way!"

Oh, no, Hannah thought. Not only was the staircase in worse shape than the porch, but two massive beams had fallen cross-wise halfway near the landing, blocking the way. Before she could voice any protest, Sam scurried to the bottom of the staircase and leaned on the banister, cell phone thrust up and out as far as his scrawny arm could manage.

"There's a space between the beams," he announced. "Light the way for me."

Without waiting for a reply, Sam tucked his cell phone into a pocket and began climbing.

"Geez!" Mark spat out sharply, running towards the bottom of the staircase. His flashlight followed Sam as the other boy picked his way over the rotten boards.

Sam moved quickly, almost squirrel-like as he jumped from board to board. When he reached the fallen beams, he paused briefly before diving between the small gap. There was a slight scuffle of feet, the groan of rotten wood giving away, then Sam called out, "Look up here!"

Hannah pressed up tight against Mark's side as her cousin swept his flashlight up and down. She loosed a breath as the light fell on Sam standing triumphantly atop the second floor. That boy is crazy.

"Okay, Hannah, you're next."

"What?" She tilted her chin up to stare at Sam. "Why me?"

"Do you want to be last?"

Hannah frowned. He had a point. Swallowing her apprehension, she tucked her phone into the waistband of her pants and walked over to the bottom of the stairs. "Where do I go?"

"Right, left, jump ..."

Hannah took a deep breath and watched as Sam's flashlight bounced off each step in turn. She could do this. Her dance teacher always said she was light on her feet.

Mark tapped her on the shoulder; Hannah looked back at him. "Good luck," her cousin said, giving her a thumb's up.

Yeah ... Hannah thought, putting one foot down on the first step. The wood groaned like it had a stomach ache and Hannah jumped back, heart beating. "I ..." She stared up at Sam, frozen.

"You can do it! Right, left, jump ..."

"Right, left, jump ..." she repeated, squared her shoulders and bounded up the ancient staircase. Boards moaned as she raced towards the second floor and a cold wind brushed across the back of her neck, making her shudder.

Reaching the beams, Hannah dove through the black hole and popped out on the other side. Sam waited for her at the top, arms outstretched. As the cold wind tickled her ear, Hannah jumped towards the boy, grabbing onto his wrists. With a grunt, Sam jerked her onto the landing.

"See?" Sam said as she stumbled against him. "You did it!"

Blushing furiously, Hannah was grateful for the darkness as she extricated herself from the boy's arms and turned back towards the staircase. We won't speak of this again, she decided firmly. Pulling out her cell phone, she flicked on the flashlight and waited for Mark to climb up.

Her cousin wasn't as graceful, but he managed to get to the top without hesitation. He and Sam high-fived then chest-bumped each other, stumbling backwards with breathless laughter.

"Hey—look at all the stuff ... !" Sam exclaimed, illuminating something in a corner. "Mark, come here!"

And just like that, the boys left Hannah alone at the top of the stairs. She opened her mouth to yell at them, but shut it with a click of her teeth. Best not to draw any attention to the house, she realized.

A trickle of cold touched the back of her arm, sending goosebumps dancing over her skin. What the heck ...? Hannah wondered, slowly turning. Was the place ... haunted?

Hugging her arms tightly around her, Hannah shook her head in denial. Ghosts were as real as the Tooth Faerie and Santa Claus. She'd stopped believing in both last year, around the same time as her dad's trial.

// You shouldn't be here ... //

// You should leave ... //

Hannah's shriek of alarm was cut off by the abrupt appearance of a small, blob-shaped ball of light. Frozen with fear, she could only watch as the blob slowly resolved itself into a cutesy depiction of a ghost—rounded, clothlike head; dark, oval-shaped eyes; a slash for a mouth; and a ragged, tattered bottom, like an old bed sheet. A little knob, like a ponytail, popped out of the back of the ghost's head.

// You need to leave before she gets back, // the ghost whispered, mouth fluttering slightly.

Hannah stumbled backwards and banged up against the banister. "D-don't hurt me," she plead, holding up both hands.

A second ghost floated across the landing, this one slightly taller than the first. // We can't hurt you, but she can, // it told her.

"She?" Gripping the rickety banister, Hannah twisted around, peering into the gloom. Distantly, she could hear the boys' feet shuffle across the floor. Turn around, turn around—please, she silently chanted.

// The soul-stealer, // the ponytailed ghost told her sadly, oblivious to Hannah's distress.

// The spider, // a third ghost corrected firmly, drifting through a wall. This one was round, like an old video game character. The three ghosts gathered around Hannah, bobbing at eye-level.

"Sp-spider?" Hannah repeated, fingers tightening on the banister until the old wood moaned in protest.

// She who keeps us here, // the first ghost explained, its "voice" trembling.

// To be the first meal for her children, // the round ghost practically snarled.

Their mournful tone and general non-confrontational manner began to relax Hannah's nerves. If she were being honest, they were rather cute.

"Wait ..." Slowly, Hannah loosened her grip on the wood. "None of this is making any sense," she said, looking around at the three spectres. Ghosts and soul-eating spiders—how was any of this possible?

// If you tell her the story, it will only lead to their demise, // a fourth ghost announced dryly, rising up from the first floor. This one was longer and thinner than the second ghost. // We just have to resign ourselves to our fates as spider-food. //

// And what if they can help us? // the round ghost retorted.

// You forget—I was the first. I've tried everything possible under the sun to break free. But, suit yourselves. // The long ghost fluttered, which looked oddly like a shrug, and descended into darkness.

Hannah carefully leaned over the banister, but no trace of the long ghost remained. "What does he mean?" she asked the original trio.

"Hannah! Hey, Hannah—oh, sh-shit!"

Sam and Mark slid to a stop, their shocked expressions visible through the ghosts' transparent bodies. "Are those what I think they are?" Sam hissed, all wide eyes and freckles.

// Come with us, // the round ghost said. // It is better to show you. //

The three ghosts slowly turned around and began floating down a wide hallway. Hannah locked eyes with her cousin and his friend. "Might as well, right?"

oOoOo

// We don't know where she comes from, // the round ghost, who Hannah started calling "Bob", began. He was the most forward of the three and the one who seemed to have his wits about him. // She rarely speaks, but over the years, she's mentioned a few things. // Bob paused, fluttering.

"Like, how to kill her?" Sam interjected cheerily. All three ghosts turned in unison to stare at him with those sightless eyes. "Sorry," he whispered, color rising in his cheeks.

Bob led them down a long hallway, their way illuminated by flashlights and the ghosts' preternatural glow. Doors dotted the hall, some open. Every now and then, a ghost would emerge, stare at them silently, then drift away.

"How many you are there?" Hannah asked.

// Twelve ... soon to be thirteen, // Larry, the lanky ghost, reported mournfully. // Thirteen souls for thirteen children. //

"Wait." Mark held up a finger as Bob looked at him over his "shoulder". "You mean that you guys are the kids who've gone missing every year?"

// Yes, // Bonnie, the ponytailed ghost, whispered sadly.

"Holy shit."

At the end of the hall was a twisted metal staircase. Sam and Mark walked up to it and shined their lights into the gloom. Long strands of white silk curled over the edge and blew gently in the breeze coming through the broken windows.

"Is that ... is that what I think it is?" Mark asked, looking to Bob.

// Yes, // the ghost reported grimly. // Spider silk. //

"She's not here, right?" Hannah asked fearfully as the boys studied the giant cobwebs stretching across the opening.

// No, but she will return soon. She must release the final soul before midnight. //

A slight snick caught Hannah's attention. Light flashed off of a thin switchblade in Sam's hand.

"You have a knife?" Hannah exclaimed.

Sam shrugged. "It's useful, isn't it?" Without looking back, he ascended the stairs, slashing at the spider silk with relative ease.

"What else do you have?" Mark asked as they climbed, the ghosts slowly rising next to them.

"A lighter."

Hannah blinked. "What!?"

"Hey, I was planning on lighting a few candles and having a séance, okay?" Sam retorted. "I don't set things on fire for fun."

With a loud ripping sound, Sam broke through the final layer and shimmied into the attic. Mark boosted Hannah up, then followed behind.

"Oh. My. God," Hannah breathed, stopping dead in her tracks.

The entire attic was a massive spider's web, the silk shimmering gently in the moonlight. It would have been beautiful if not for the fact that all of this was created by a massive, soul-sucking spider.

A spider that would soon be returning with its last victim.

In the direct center, beneath a large hole in the roof, was a bowl-shaped nest. Barely visible over the edge of the silk nest were the tops of thirteen mottled eggs. To Hannah's horror, they moved ever so slightly, tiny shadows pressing against the pliable shells.

The ghosts were right—they were ready to hatch.

// Look up, // Bob instructed.

Although she was dearly afraid to, Hannah tilted her chin up. Hanging from the rafters were twelve cocoons of various shapes and sizes. They gently swung back and forth like macabre piñatas in the night breeze.

// That's us, // Bonnie reported, drifting upwards towards one of the smaller cocoons.

// Still alive, // Larry rumbled darkly.

"You're still alive?" Mark repeated as Sam slowly rounded the nest. "Why? I mean—that's good, but why keep the bodies alive if your souls are just going to be eaten?"

Bob stared at the cocoons. // If our bodies were dead, our souls would flee to the afterlife, // he replied slowly. // Not much use for hungry spiderlings. //

"No disrespect," Hannah said, "but how come you're still here? Can't you leave to—I dunno—get help?"

The air around the three ghosts shimmered and coalesced into three thin, glowing strands that flowed upwards and connected to three of the twelve cocoons.

// We're bound here, // Larry reported. // Couldn't leave if we wanted to. //

// When she takes a victim, // Bob explained, // she removes the soul from the body and then wraps the shell in a cocoon so the soul cannot return. //

It was subtle, but Larry's expression darkened. // Baby spiders can't pull souls from a living body, so the mother has to do it for them. //

Hannah pressed her knuckles to her mouth, biting down on them as the ghosts spoke. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. How awful!

"What happens to a soul?" Mark asked carefully.

// When it's eaten? // Larry replied dryly. He turned to Bob to answer.

// Over time, it becomes part of the spider, // the round ghost told them, rippling in anger. // We cease to be. //

Bonnie floated down from the hole in the roof. // She comes ... //

The kids froze, staring at each other. She was here? Hannah spun around, desperately seeking a hiding spot as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

// Quick! // Bob exclaimed, breezing past their pale faces. // You need to hide. This way! //

Hannah followed the round ghost without hesitation, the two boys hot on her heels. Bob led them into a little alcove in the wall where no silk covered the floor.

// Cover yourselves! // Bob urged as a hollow, skittering sound echoed across the roof.

Sam whipped a musty tarp off of a large, ornate chest and tossed it over the three of them. A dank smell settled like fog over them; the odor was so bad that Hannah had to clap both hands over her mouth and nose to keep from gagging. They lay flat on the dusty floorboards with only their wide, frightened eyes visible.

Hannah bit down on her hand as the spider crawled down from the roof, all sharp angles and nightmares. It was worse than she had imagined: A human-shaped head poked over the jagged edge; long, scraggly dirty blonde hair fell forward, obscuring the creature's face. It was quickly followed by a woman's naked arms and torso, the skin a putrid combination of purple and grey.

Oh, God, Hannah breathed, body shaking beneath the tarp.

"Shhh ..." Mark hissed, face as white as moonlight. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The rest of the spider emerged: a massive, bulbous body connected to the human torso; eight thick, hairy legs pivoted the creature around, showcasing a large, yellow paint-like splatter marking on her back. The spider descended on a thick cable of silk; clutched in her smooth, bony arms was the limp body of a teenage boy.

"It'sss almossst time," the creature crooned, holding out the boy's unconscious body next to the other cocoons.

To Hannah's horror, the foremost right leg stabbed out, piercing the boy in the chest. But instead of his ribs cracking and exposing blood and bone, the leg glowed a sickly yellow and slid through the body as easy as a hot knife through butter. With a simple flick, the spider tore a silvery, transparent piece of gauze from the boy's chest. The soul hung there, motionless, as the spider tilted her abdomen up; a spray of silk exploded from her spinnerets, rapidly encasing the body in a cocoon. Then, as easy as you please, the spider hung the cocoon from the rafters, completing the circle.

"Come, come now," the spider called, crawling upside down on the ceiling. She made scooping motions with her angular arms, as if gathering something towards her. The air shimmered and the ghosts' tethers appeared.

From all parts of the house, low, mournful howls rose up as all twelve ghosts were reeled in like fish: tall, skinny ones; round ones; tiny ones. They struggled against the tethers in a last-ditch effort to free themselves.

"No!" Sam whispered fiercely, reaching up beneath the tarp to take a swipe at Bob as the ghost was pulled away from them.

"Stay down!" Mark growled, grabbing his friend's hand.

Hannah's breath caught in her chest as the spider jerked, dirty blonde hair falling away to reveal an eyeless face, slit nose, and segmented mouth. Beside her, Mark and Sam went absolutely still as the spider glanced around. Hannah's heart started beating again as the spider appeared to shrug and went about her business, descending all the way to the nest.

"What do we do?" Hannah asked, her voice barely audible.

Sam shifted, drawing something out. He slid one object to Mark. "I know what we do," he replied, jaw set with determination. "I'm going to distract her. Mark, you crawl up there and cut the bodies down and slash open the cocoons. Hannah, you need to take care of the eggs."

"What!?" the cousins exclaimed at the same time, then simultaneously clamped hands over mouths. But this time, the spider didn't even react; she hummed to her eggs, arranging the ghosts over each one like party favors.

"How are you going to do that?" Mark demanded.

"With this." Sam held out a BBQ lighter.

"I don't want to die in a fire!" Hannah protested.

"Do you have a better idea?" Sam countered, staring across Mark at her.

Hannah frowned and sank to the dirty attic floor boards. "No," she admitted. But this wasn't a plan—it was barely an idea.

"Good." Slowly, Sam shifted backwards until he slipped out from beneath the tarp. Hannah twisted around to watch the boy pull a rotten leg from a small end table off and hand it to her. She clutched it with both hands, keeping the rusted nail at the top facing away from her. Sam passed Mark his knife, then grabbed another table leg. "I'll go out first. Once she's fixed on me, Mark, you can climb up on the nest and cut down the bodies. Hannah can pull them out of the way before taking care of the eggs. If Bob's right, once we open the cocoons, the ghosts should go back into their bodies. Then we can all escape."

Before you burn the house down, Hannah finished for him. She didn't like the idea, but it was their only option.

Slowly, Sam stood up. A ball of ice formed in Hannah's belly, twisting up her insides. She gripped the table leg like a lifeline.

Sam lit the table leg with the lighter and crawled out of the hole. "Hey!" he shouted, waving the torch.

The spider snapped around, her segmented jaws parting in a horrible snarl. "C'mon!" Mark shot to his feet, dragging Hannah along with him.

Sam waved the torch like a beacon, drawing the creature's attention away from the cousins.

"Good," the spider purred as Mark and Hannah slipped out of their hiding spot. "I'm hungry, too." She extended one leg, then another—and another—and slowly crawled down to the floor.

Gritting his teeth, Sam planted his feet and thrust the torch between them. Hissing, the spider scuttled sideways, keeping her distance.

It was now or never. Mark raced towards the nest as fast as his legs could carry him. He hopped up onto the edge and grabbed the first cocoon—Bob's.

// What are you doing? // the ghost exclaimed, spinning on his tether.

"Shut up," Mark growled, sawing at the thick silk with Sam's switchblade. It parted easily—more than Hannah expected. Surely, a creature like this would produce something far stronger.

The body dropped like a stone, bouncing off the top of the eggs and rolled over the side of the nest. Hannah reached down to rip at the silk with the rusted nail, but a blur of purple and grey knocked her off her feet.

The spider barred her segmented jaws and roared in Hannah's face, spraying her with hot, stinking spit. Hannah screamed and flailed with the rotten wood. With a flick of one hairy leg, the spider batted it away. "Sssnack," she grinned, jaws opening wide.

Hannah thrust her hands up, pushing at the spider's face, nails digging into the tough skin. Saliva dropped onto her cheek as the spider pressed downwards. Terrified, Hannah struggled, but the jaws kept inching closer.

Suddenly, the spider reared back and loosed a shriek that set the cocoons swaying. The scent of burning meat filled Hannah's nostrils. As the spider spun around, Hannah saw a bright red mark on the creature's back where Sam had stuck the torch.

"I'll eat you firssst!" the spider shouted, jumping towards the boy.

"Hannah!"

Tearing her attention away from the spider and Sam, Hannah looked up at Mark. Her cousin had dropped three more cocoons onto the nest.

"Hurry!"

Ghosts swirled around their bodies, all crying out for her to shred the silk. Hannah scrambled to her feet and looked over her shoulder to see Sam sweeping a line of fire across the webbed attic floor. So much silk caught instantly, spreading like wildfire.

Oh, no.

Two more bodies hit the nest.

Urged on by the ghosts, Hannah snatched up her rotted leg, pulled out the nail and went to work as Sam drew another fiery line on the ground.

No sooner had she opened up a thin crack in the cocoon than Bob darted inside. The body within jerked as if electrified and a second later, the whole cocoon shattered as a plump, towheaded teenage boy broke free.

Bob—or whatever his real name was—wasted no time in helping Hannah rip open the other cocoons as Mark cut them free.

The fire grew steadily as the remaining twelve souls were reunited with their bodies. Some helped free their fellow captives, others raced to aid Sam as he battled the spider. One victim, a tall, lanky brown-haired girl with braided black hair, ripped a board free from the wall and began bashing in the canvas shells of the eggs.

Mucus, thick and orangey, poured out from the eggs like pus. Thin, high-pitched wails bounced off of the attic walls as the teenager smashed down with all of her might. Bile surged in Hannah's throat as she watched those tiny, hairy legs scratch at the girl in vain, then immediately go limp.

"HOW DARE YOU!" the spider howled.

Boards—some on fire—beat the spider from all angles. She whirled around, all eight legs flailing, slashing out with clawlike hands. Someone rolled a ball of webbing, lit it on fire and tossed it at the spider's head. Almost instantly, her hair went up in flames.

The screams turned into shrieks of pain as the spider spun around in a wild circle, clawing at her scalp with blistering fingers.

"Let's go!" Mark shouted, grabbing Hannah by one arm. Sam was on her other side.

Limp, she let herself be dragged to the metal staircase and ushered downwards. The last image Hannah had of the spider was it crawling towards its ruined nest as smoke filled the room.

Thirteen teenagers and three twelve-year-olds ran down the crumbling hallway as the fire continued to spread. Boards broke beneath their feet; when someone fell through, two more were there to haul them upright.

As they raced outside, the fire had consumed the entire attic and was spreading downwards at a rapid pace. In the distance, sirens wailed.

"Damn," Mark said, one arm around Hannah's shoulder as all of them huddled together. "What are we gonna tell the cops?"

"I've no idea." Who would believe them, anyway?

Leaning against her cousin, she watched the Newman House burn to the ground with its monster still inside.