An old, red, beat-up car pulled through the black iron gates of Shoreside Manor, gravel crunching beneath the threadbare tires.

The manor loomed over them grandly, proud, with its eaves held high. Even with the water-warped planks and bare patches of dead ivy, Shoreside was grand. The purple shutters blinked mysteriously in the wind, wisteria twisting around dark grey planks, dangling into the open spaces of a wraparound porch. A circular princess tower sent rays of sparkling rainbow onto the wild lawn in the front, light refracting through stained glass windows.

"It's perfect," Summer-Lynn --best known as Fitz-- Fitzpatrick beamed, pulling her beanie off her close-cropped hair. She leaned forward in the front seat to look closer at the house. "I love the purple roof."

"It's horrendous," Kiernan Williams said, wrinkling his nose. He stretched his arms, taking up space and shoving Andy Green into the window. They shoved him back, hard.

"Either way, it's a good find," Greyson Sallow said warmly, turning the car off and pocketing the key.

"I don't get why we don't just crash at Grey's place," Rosé LaFey sighed languorously. "It's like, ten minutes away."

"I dunno, crashing at Grey's makes me feel like Jean Valjean in that priest's house," Andy teased over their shoulder, opening the car door. The sun streamed in behind them, filling the car with a warm buttery yellow.

Greyson laughed, pushing open his door too. "Well, you're just as welcome as he."

"I think your grandma would disagree," Kiernan snarked with a grin. "She hates us."

"Correction: she hates you," Rosé preened, sliding from the car, her Louis Vuitton heels hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. "Grandmére loves me."

"That's because you're a walking designer handbag," Kiernan rolled his eyes with a grin.

"And what if I am?" she pouted. "I'm still eternally more fabulous than you."

Fitz threw her muscled arms around both of them, ruffling Kiernan's hair. All of the Occupants had learned long ago not to touch Rosé's hair after it was meticulously curled, or suffer the consequences. "Stop bickering, kids. Let's unpack the car."

"Yes Mom," Rosé and Kiernan singsonged in harmony.

At the trunk, Andy and Grey were already unloading their luggage onto the floor.

"Rosé, you have twice the amount of bags Grey does," Andy grunted in her direction, legs buckling under the weight of a shiny, polished trunk. "And Grey has a billion."

"I'm high maintenance, darling," Rosé looped the heavy trunk in her grasp and lifted it effortlessly. Andy gawped at her. "I also go to the gym."

Fitz had a simple duffle bag, which she slung over a shoulder, then picked up Rosé's remaining three bags. She hoisted them into the house, whistling cheerily.

Andy looked at their arms, pretending to make them sag. "I think I need to hit the gym too."

Grey chuckled, tossing them their bag. "Don't worry, Andy. What you lack in strength, you make up for in brains." He tipped his chin to the door.

Fitz and Rosé were bickering at the front entrance, inside the purple porch. Rosé's bag was so large she couldn't get it through. Fitz was instructing her to turn the damn bag but Rosé kept turning it the wrong way. Fitz groaned, leaned forward to help, and got stuck in the doorframe, jammed between Rosé's extra luggage.

Andy clapped a horrified hand over their mouth, then burst out laughing.

Kiernan, eyes glued to his phone, pushed Fitz's back, and both Rosé and Fitz went tumbling through the door, landing flat on their faces. Kiernan stepped over them, still reading whatever article he'd found.

Rosé swore at him loudly. "I just cleaned these clothes you little--"

"Rosé, your armpit is in my face."

"You should be grateful!"

"Dad, the girls are fighting," Kiernan called back.

Greyson sighed. "That's my cue. C'mon, Andy."

They shut the trunk, and Grey clicked the lock button on his keys. Andy slipped their backpack over their shoulders, stepped through the doorway, then bent down to help Fitz up.

Rosé, who was crouched furiously in her heels, muttering to herself as she sorted the contents of her now-spilled bag, glared up at them and hissed. She looked like a very pretty Gollum.

The house was massive, as big on the inside as it looked on the outside. The foyer led right into a grand staircase. To the right was the living room, where Andy could see Kiernan curled up on the couch, his face illuminated by blue phone lighting. To the left was the kitchen; presumably, they connected in the back.

Everything was a strange mix of old lady decor and fortune-teller tent. The walls were painted a purple-blue that looked like the midnight sky. Gold mantle and elaborately carved statues dotted every available space, and there was a lot of gauzy, draping fabric in places that didn't need gauzy, draping fabric.

"Looks like a circus," Andy murmured to themselves, glancing around.

"Freaky," Fitz agreed, running her fingers through the tassels of a tapestry, which depicted a golden-haired man being decapitated by several women in faceless armour.

Other relics and decor were similarly creepy, though they shouldn't have been. A stuffed badger sank its teeth into a rabbit, the moon painting on the ceiling gleamed threateningly. It all looked normal, or as normal as an eclectic old lady's house could be, but everything felt chillingly hostile. Even the lampshades, with silhouettes of 1800s women, seemed to burn angrily at them.

Rosé was looking dreamily at a painting of naked women dancing around what was clearly a male sacrifice. "Kiernan, this looks like you!" she beamed.

Fitz and Andy chuckled. Grey felt less inclined to the humour. The problem was, the painting looked eerily like Kiernan: the same serious brows, dark hair, and sharp jawline. Greyson even glimpsed a ragged line on the painting's bicep. It could be a mistake, or a wrinkle of time, but it looked exactly like the scar Kiernan had on his own bicep, from when they went snowboarding down a sand dune. He shivered.

"If only," Rosé sighed whimsically. "I'd love to sacrifice you beneath the moonlight surrounded by pretty women."

Kiernan laughed sarcastically from the living room. "Okay, princess, calm down."

"Geezer."

"Poodle."

"Reddit-user."

Fitz and Andy gasped.

Grey was still uneasy, looking between portraits and tapestries. One woman being strangled, dressed in crimson, looked like Rosé, though much darker in complexion. A knight being stabbed to death had Fitz's wide shoulders and shorn hair.

Worst still: almost every other painting depicted a man with a golden swath of curls. Exactly like his own.

"You're looking a little, well, grey, Grey," Andy joked, nudging him in the ribs. Grey startled. "Are you okay, bud?"

Grey distractedly ran a hand through his curls; a habit his mother had tried to break, but occasionally came back when he was nervous. "No, yeah. Yes. I'm all right. Just a bit cold."

"It's the dead of summer," Rosé shook her head. "Whatever you rich people feed your kids, it clearly doesn't work. Grey, I've said it once, and I'll say it again; you're the best dressed skeleton I've ever met."

"Ha-ha," Grey rolled his eyes with a grin. Andy was still looking at him with worry creasing their brow. Grey softened. "Don't worry, Andy. I'm fine. Just a little... spooked by the art, that's all."

"Oh. Well, it's all right," they smiled at him comfortingly. "It's just an old house, they always have creepy things. It's half the reason why people think they're haunted."

Grey snorted at that. "Imagine if this place was haunted."

Andy laughed. "Now that would be interesting."

"Way more fun than bumming around with the princess of poodles over there," Kiernan jibed.

Rosé chucked one of her shoes at him. "I hope you get possessed, you freak."

Fitz was the only one who gave them a disapproving look. "Don't jinx it, you guys."

"What," Kiernan demanded. "You believe in ghosts?"

"No," Fitz didn't look extremely certain about her answer. "But I'm just saying, don't put that out there. I'm trying to have fun with my best friends, not call the Ghostbusters."

Andy grabbed an old display telephone off the nearest table, putting it to their ear. "Who you gonna call?"

Rosé perked up. "Did you know I know the entire JustDance choreography to that song?"

Andy's jaw dropped. "No. Way."

"I'll show you."

"Please."

Fitz pushed her way through the side tables and dangling decorations, grabbing her bag from the foyer. "I'm gonna get a head start on room pick, if you want to come with me," she whispered conspiratorially to Grey.

Grey grinned. "Let's hurry up, before the clowns over there realise we're gone."

"Race you up the stairs!"

"Challenge accepted, my lady."

They took off sprinting.