Prologue No one had lived in House No. 9 for twelve years.That was the story the neighbors told.They were wrong.Every night, at exactly 3:13 a.m., a light flickered on in the upstairs bedroom.Every morning, it was gone.The police investigated twice.Nothing.The owners changed.Nothing.The locks were replaced.Nothing.The house remained empty.Or so everyone believed.On the first day of October, a moving truck pulled into the driveway.A young couple stepped out, smiling as they admired the old Victorian house wrapped in climbing ivy.They laughed.They carried boxes through the front door.They never noticed the curtain on the second floor move.Someone was already inside.Waiting.