Maybe there’s nothing there. Maybe if I go into the light, I really do die.

“You’re already dead.”

No. No, this is ME. I’m here.

“May. I don’t know how to help you. But you can’t stay here trying to steal other people’s lives.”

Don’t leave me here.

Andie stared at the girl helplessly. “May, I’m not even sure you can leave here. I think you’re tied to the house.”

No. No, there’s a lock of my hair in my old jewelry box. My mother braided mine and April’s together.

“Who’s April?”

My sister. Carter and Alice’s mother.

Andie looked around. “Is she here, too?”

No, I don’t think she stayed after she died. I think she just snuffed out like a candle. I was alive then so I don’t know. I didn’t even know this existed.

“Maybe she knew what she was doing.”

Maybe she just gave up. I’m not giving up.

Andie took a deep breath. “Think this through. If you’re tied to that lock of hair, you’re stuck wherever the hair is. I can take you to school with me once I start another job, but then you’re going to be hanging out listening to high school kids murder Shakespeare. You can stay in the house and watch the kids grow up, but somehow, that doesn’t seem like it’s enough for you.”

It’s SOMETHING.

May sounded frantic, which was natural considering what she was facing, but there was an edge there that hadn’t been there before, a savagery under the complaint.

“You sound different.”

I’m scared. I’m angry. What do you expect?

Andie bit her lip. “What if you’re losing your humanity? The others did, they became monsters. You don’t want to become a monster-”

They hung around for two hundred years. You’ll be dead before I start to lose it. Then we can really talk.

“We don’t know that,” Andie said. “We don’t-”

So you’re saying no.

“I’m saying you’re not where you’re supposed to be. You’re not supposed to be stuck between two planes living a shadow life. This is wrong for you. It’s wrong for everybody. And if we don’t fix it, if you don’t move on, I think things could get really bad.”

May was silent, and even worse, Andie couldn’t see her moving. It was as if May had finally stopped dancing. Maybe because she was starting to think.

“May?”

I don’t want to move on.

“Okay.” Andie got up. “It’s your choice. But I can’t take you to Columbus. It’s just wrong, May. You’ll have to stay here.

I hate it here. I’ve been stuck here in this stupid town and then this stupid house all my life.

“And when your life ended, you should have been free.”

You’re taking Dennis back.

“Not necessarily,” Andie said, exasperated, “I’m trying to talk him toward the light, too. You’re both being stubborn. But if he insists, I’ll take him back to his home in Cleveland. He doesn’t belong here, he was just visiting. But first I’m going to try to talk him into going.”

Would you go?

“Yes.”

How can you know?

“Because I wouldn’t ever want to be stuck watching somebody else live. Because if there’s a new adventure ahead of me, I want to go toward it. Because living like a shadow would make me insane.”

So you’d just let go.

“It’s what people who die are supposed to do. Not hang on to the past. Go toward the future.”

What if there isn’t any future?

“I think there’s something in the light. And I think because it’s light, it’s probably good. Or at least interesting and not eternal damnation in some sadist’s idea of an afterlife. That is just something somebody dreamed up to keep other people in line.”

You don’t think there’s a hell.

“I don’t see how a hell makes sense. What’s the point of tormenting souls forever? Where’s the poetry in that, what use is it? If there is a guiding intelligence that created this world, which is amazing, why would it design eternal pain and torment for the next one? It’s just a stupid concept.”

To punish the bad people.

“Forever?” Andie said, getting impatient. “What good is that? That’s just vengeance, it doesn’t accomplish anything. The whole hell thing annoys me, it’s such a power play.”

May was quiet for a long while, and finally Andie said, “May?”

All right.

Andie hesitated, and when May didn’t say anything else, she went to check on Dennis. She’d have to be insane to take May back to Columbus with her. Even thinking about taking Dennis was crazy but at least he belonged up north. Well, no he didn’t. He belonged on the other side. Wherever that was.

“Dennis?” she said at the door of the sitting room.

You got rid of them. Good for you.

“You can tell they’re gone.”

Yes. They’re gone. It’s much better here now.

“It’s still Hell House, Dennis. Now, about you.”

Don’t worry about me, Dennis said. I can stay. I’m not going to kill anybody.

“Right,” Andie said and went back upstairs to the kids, meeting Flo on the first flight of stairs as she went to get bandages for Carter; and Lydia on the second flight, carrying the lunch tray down.

“North’s throwing up in the bathroom,” Lydia said.

“Well, it’s his turn,” Andie said and went up to the nursery.

When she opened the nursery door, the fire was off, and May was there with Alice and Carter.

“Hey!” Andie said, but May said, All right.

“All right what?”

I’ll move on. Alice has the lock of hair.

Alice held out a thick, dark curl, her face sober.

“Did you tell them what it means?” Andie said.

They know. I just need one favor from you.

“All right,” Andie said cautiously.

I want to hug them good-bye.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

No, really hug them. I want to borrow your body.

“No!” Andie took a step back. “No. You did it before and it was horrible. No.”

Andie, I’m never going to see them again. This is the end for us. You don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll go. Even if I didn’t, you’re stronger than I am. You can get rid of me any time you want.

Andie looked back at the kids, standing silent and miserable. They’d never had a chance to say good-bye, she was their last close family member, maybe it would help them-

I just want to hug them.

Andie swallowed. “All right.”

Thank you, May said. Just relax.

“That’s not happening,” Andie said, and felt the cold in her bones again, felt May fill her as she shivered, saw everything go black and white, and then May was lifting her arms over her head, stretching to feel her muscles.

“A body,” May said. “You don’t know how awful it is not to have a body!”

Yes, I do, Andie said. Make this fast. This is horrible.

May turned toward the kids and Andie went with her, feeling her body follow somebody else’s command, the nausea rising again from the sheer wrongness of it. May bent down and hugged Alice, and the little girl hugged her back.

“Keep your promise,” she whispered in Andie’s ear, and May said, “I will.”

Then May straightened and held out Andie’s arms to Carter. “Come say good-bye, Carter!”

Carter turned and walked away.

“Carter!” May called. “It’s me. It’s not Andie, it’s me.”

He turned back at the door. “I’d hug Andie,” he said and walked out.

“He’s just upset,” May said to Alice.

“You promised,” Alice said.

Promised what? Andie said. What’s going on?

“That I wouldn’t keep your body,” May said, and let go, and Andie slumped from the relief of it, the cold leaving her as May went.

She was weak and nauseous but she was the only one in her head again.

Thank you, May said, and then Carter came back in.

“You okay?” he said to Andie.