Harpo was cold, and the dark forest smelled smoky, and he couldn’t find the ghost anywhere. He’d been wandering for what felt like hours when he found the pale little oak trees that meant the lodgehouse was near. And there it was, the big sprawling house lit and glinting like a diamond tiara.
He walked closer and saw a man bent at the waist, peering in a window. Harpo crept closer. Then he recognized William. He was standing beside the window, next to a shining thing, a bucket, it looked like. Why did he have a bucket filled with water?
Harpo ran toward him. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said.
“I’ve been looking for you too.” William pulled him into a hug. “How are you feeling?”
“What?”
“Have you been a help to our Ayala?”
“I tried to make a passageway in their house, so the room o
