Chapter 10
A grayish light filters through the hallway. It’s not the blackness of before, but it’s not natural, either. We’ve only been inside for half an hour, at most, and I acutely miss the sunlight. I’m starving for something natural and warm. I grip Malcolm’s hand tighter since he must be the warmest thing in this house.
“Our presence is draining some of its power,” he whispers. “If the ghost doesn’t keep its guard up, Reginald will be able to capture it.”
“Even while it’s still possessing Tara’s father?”
“It’s ... messy, but possible.”
We pause near the kitchen. The space is a disaster of pink-tinged puddles and splatters of red everywhere that make me think of crime scenes and serial killers. A light fog remains, clogging the skylights, barring the sun from entrance.
Malcolm s
