But I was just looking at another empty room. In the far corner was a rumpled sleeping bag. No sheets. Not even a pillow.

The bathroom counter held the bare essentials of a makeup kit. The shower door was open, revealing a bottle of shampoo, a disposable razor, and a bar of soap. A single towel was slung over the bar. There were no rugs or bath mats.

The closet was open. Except for a neat row of still-price-tagged clothes, a pile of dirty laundry, and a tidy line of shoes, it was empty. I peeked around at the shelves that I knew were behind the door.

On the third one from the bottom, just lying there in its blue wrapper, was the book.

Before I could lose my nerve, I tucked it under my arm and stepped out of the closet. I carried it to the kitchen counter, where I unwrapped it.

I cursed myself for not bringing my camera. Instead, I pulled out my cell phone and flipped the book open, using the edges of the blue velvet to touch the pages. They had an unsettling habit of falling open and staying that way, like they were weighted.

I started taking pictures with my phone. They’d be blurry and low-res, but it was better than nothing.

The end of the book was actually two pages that had been blank once, but were now covered in names—women’s names, handwritten in as many types of ink and styles of print and script as there were names.

Almost like a sign-up sheet.

I raised my phone and took a picture.

One of the names, written in a flowery script, caught my eye: Suzette Skalaski.

I set down my phone and stared at it for a moment, trying to remember why it sounded familiar.

Suddenly, I heard a noise outside and saw the taillights of a car through the frosted glass of the foyer window. The high, happy sound of voices exchanging good-byes hit my ears.

I slammed the book shut, threw the wrap around it, and ran for the hallway, smashing my shoulder into the wall as I went. I dashed into the master bedroom closet, shoved the book back on the shelf and looked around.

Which lights had been on when I got here and which ones had I turned on? I hadn’t even thought to pay attention. The closet—on. The bathroom—on or off?

Finally, I flipped the switch off and raced back out, hoping I could make it through the living room before Tashi came inside. But the key was already turning in the lock.

I dashed back into the closet and shut the light off just as the front door opened with a squeak. I stood helplessly in the dark, trying to plot my next move. Could I sneak out while she took a shower or after she went to sleep? Could I slip into the garage, open the door, and run for cover before she made it outside?

There was a noise from the main room—a sudden, short, high-pitched, tumbling sound. My whole body went ice-cold, but seconds later, I heard a waterfall of notes.

She was playing the piano. She ran through the scales twice and then a few jaunty bars of a march.

I should chance it. I should make a break for it. I could probably even fit out the bedroom window. Any sane person would leave. And I almost did—

But then I heard the song.

It started with a series of high notes, twinkling apart from each other like stars on a cold night. Then they all rushed together and exploded, and the song rose and rose, growing louder and louder. It was like hearing a battle being fought from the other side of a wall, and I couldn’t tear myself away.

The melody came climbing up through the middle, surrounded by violent, dancing, pestering notes, buzzing birds trying to throw it off track. But it pushed through and came out free on the other side, strong and confident, like a soldier marching off of a smoking battlefield.

Then from the shadows came a winding approach, thin and sinister, like a murderous woman hiding in the darkness—and suddenly there was a mighty struggle, and when the chaos cleared, all that was left was a plaintive voice—she killed him but she’s sorry, she just realized she always loved him, and she’s spinning, spinning, driven mad by her loss, wishing she could bring him back…spinning, spinning…but she can’t undo what she’s done.

The notes spun out of existence.

The piano went silent.

I wasn’t even aware that I was standing in a dark closet—I wasn’t aware of anything but the music. I wanted to hear more. Another song, the same song—anything.

She didn’t play anything else. And I’d missed my chance to run.

I stood there for a moment, shivering, then slowly pushed the door open and looked to my left, at the window. I’d have to pop the screen out, but I could fit—

“Sort of a strange place to find you,” said Tashi. She was in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her.

“Yes, definitely,” I said. “So…I should go, I guess.”

“No hurry,” she said. “You can stay for a little while.”

At that point, my courage failed me entirely. “I’m really sorry,” I said. “If you let me go, I won’t tell anyone anything about anything that you do—or have, or—don’t have—”

“Alexis, calm down,” she said. “You’re making me antsy.”

Antsy was never good. Especially in carnivorous supernatural beings.

“Come on out here,” she said, starting down the hall. “Are you hungry?”

As I followed, I thought of the fridge full of raw meat and my stomach turned. “I don’t think so.”

“Sorry there’s nowhere to sit,” she said. “But then, you knew that, didn’t you?”

I nodded quickly and without a trace of dignity. “Yes,” I said. “Sorry again.”

“Relax,” she said, starting to come around the counter. I slid to the floor and shrank back, until I noticed she wasn’t headed for me. She sat down on the piano bench and casually ran through a few scales.

“I heard you play,” I said, half out of a desire to butter her up, and half because I couldn’t help myself. “It was incredible.”

She smiled. “Serenada Schizophrana, first movement. Elfman. I have it almost where I want it.” She moved her hands over the keys. It was almost like the notes followed her fingers, charmed like a snake out of a basket.

I dared to speak. “How long have you been playing?”

“A hundred and sixty-seven years,” she said.

“Oh,” I said, like that was a totally normal answer.

Her fingers meandered through the beginning of a song.

“So…do you know Farrin?” I asked.

“Of course.”

Something occurred to me. “Was it a coincidence that I ended up entering the contest and meeting her?”

For that, Tashi gave me an approving smile. “Not exactly,” she said. “I sent the flyer to your principal and suggested she give it to you.”

“Suggested how?” As soon as I asked it, I knew the answer. The same way we suggested anything to anyone. “But…that was before we even met.”

Tashi gave me a veiled smile. “I’d heard about you.”

“Who…? I don’t understand.”

She looked at me again, and her fingers paused on the piano keys. Her eyes weren’t smiling anymore. “I’m glad you came, Alexis. I need to talk to you.”

As she spoke, she touched the keys absently, playing scraps of different songs and melodies, adding chords every once in a while for emphasis.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said. “But I feel I can trust you.”

I had no idea what I’d done to earn her trust, but I kept silent.

“I’m not like the rest of you, obviously. I came with the book. With Aralt.”

I stared at her. “Are you the gypsy? The one who was with him when he died?”

The one who took his heart?

Her lip quirked up. “You can call me that, if you like.”

“And you…made the book?”

“Yes,” she said. “I was seventeen and in love, so I formed the book and joined my energy with Aralt’s. I thought it was a way we could be together forever.”

“I guess you were right,” I said.

She shot me a look out of the corner of her eye.