in."
"Oh. I was . . . doing research," I said. The words felt odd but good on my tongue. I smiled proudly.
"On what?" Joy asked dubiously.
"Havelock Point."
"Havelock Point?" she repeated, her excitement evident.
"Uh-huh."
"I want to show you something." She dug with renewed vigor through her notebooks and finally handed me one. It was folded back to a page somewhere in the middle. I took it and looked at what she had written.
Havelock Point
-deaths
-isolated, abandoned
-old
-tragic history (fire)
I glanced back up at her. "What's this?"
"I was writing about Victoria's local history once. These are just some leftover notes. So you're interested in the local stuff, too?"
My brows drew together as my gaze wandered down to the page. "Well . . . I'm sort of interested in Havelock Point," I said slowly, wondering how much to reveal. I couldn't tell her about how I'd gone to the house without also telling her about Ahaziel, and I wasn't close enough to her yet to share that secret.
"It's a few miles outside town, by the old lighthouse," she informed me. "There's a house there, where a lightkeeper used to live."
I know. I've been there.
"A lot of people don't know that because no one goes to the old lighthouse anymore," Joy continued. "It's been abandoned for about a hundred years. But a lightkeeper's family used to live there when the lighthouse was still in use. There are a lot of places like that along the coast, you know. Anyway, there was a fire in the house in nineteen-oh-four. The daughter of the family died in it."
Shivers raced up my spine. "How did you find out about that?"
Now Joy narrowed her eyes at me. "I'm going to be a historian, remember?" She flipped her hair. "Besides, anyone can look at this stuff. It's all in the library's basement."
As she packed up her bag, I rose from the couch and walked to the window. It had grown dark outside and the flower-patterned curtains were wide open, showing me a muted reflection of the living room behind me. Brandt was probably on his way home from wherever he'd been. I wondered if he'd bring Chris over for dinner. I wondered if my mom would be too tired to make dinner once she got home from work.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Joy said. "When I was researching this stuff I came across this old photograph of a girl who looked just like you."
"Really?" I said, barely hearing her.
A tap on the window startled me. I faced the black glass, one hand clutching the curtain. I knew the sound was probably only from the branches of the elm tree in the front yard, but I was overcome with the sensation that someone was out there, looking in at me. I felt enshrined by the warm interior light. I was on display for whomever or whatever lurked out there. I imagined a person hiding across the street beneath a neighbor's tree, or perhaps crouched right below the window, less than a foot from me, separated only by glass.
Struck with sudden fright, I yanked the curtains closed and moved quickly away from the window. My skin tingled. Joy didn't seem to notice my odd behavior.
I heard a key in the door and turned from the window to see my mom, graying blonde hair slipping from her bun. It was all I could do not to laugh with relief as she walked in and kicked off her sensible beige heels.
"Hey, Lil," she said, brushing wisps of hair off her face. She turned to Joy. "Oh, hello."
"Hello," Joy chirped pleasantly.
"You're home early," I said. My mom normally didn't show up until well after six.
"I've been working such long hours. I thought I deserved an evening to relax."
"Yeah . . ." I watched as she meandered into the kitchen, where she dropped her purse and started looking in the cabinets for dinner. We'd probably end up having pasta with butter again.
I saw Joy to the door a few minutes later, my smile falsely cheerful. After my experience at the window, I still felt uneasy about something. I wanted to warn her to be careful, that there might have been something lurking in
"Oh. I was . . . doing research," I said. The words felt odd but good on my tongue. I smiled proudly.
"On what?" Joy asked dubiously.
"Havelock Point."
"Havelock Point?" she repeated, her excitement evident.
"Uh-huh."
"I want to show you something." She dug with renewed vigor through her notebooks and finally handed me one. It was folded back to a page somewhere in the middle. I took it and looked at what she had written.
Havelock Point
-deaths
-isolated, abandoned
-old
-tragic history (fire)
I glanced back up at her. "What's this?"
"I was writing about Victoria's local history once. These are just some leftover notes. So you're interested in the local stuff, too?"
My brows drew together as my gaze wandered down to the page. "Well . . . I'm sort of interested in Havelock Point," I said slowly, wondering how much to reveal. I couldn't tell her about how I'd gone to the house without also telling her about Ahaziel, and I wasn't close enough to her yet to share that secret.
"It's a few miles outside town, by the old lighthouse," she informed me. "There's a house there, where a lightkeeper used to live."
I know. I've been there.
"A lot of people don't know that because no one goes to the old lighthouse anymore," Joy continued. "It's been abandoned for about a hundred years. But a lightkeeper's family used to live there when the lighthouse was still in use. There are a lot of places like that along the coast, you know. Anyway, there was a fire in the house in nineteen-oh-four. The daughter of the family died in it."
Shivers raced up my spine. "How did you find out about that?"
Now Joy narrowed her eyes at me. "I'm going to be a historian, remember?" She flipped her hair. "Besides, anyone can look at this stuff. It's all in the library's basement."
As she packed up her bag, I rose from the couch and walked to the window. It had grown dark outside and the flower-patterned curtains were wide open, showing me a muted reflection of the living room behind me. Brandt was probably on his way home from wherever he'd been. I wondered if he'd bring Chris over for dinner. I wondered if my mom would be too tired to make dinner once she got home from work.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Joy said. "When I was researching this stuff I came across this old photograph of a girl who looked just like you."
"Really?" I said, barely hearing her.
A tap on the window startled me. I faced the black glass, one hand clutching the curtain. I knew the sound was probably only from the branches of the elm tree in the front yard, but I was overcome with the sensation that someone was out there, looking in at me. I felt enshrined by the warm interior light. I was on display for whomever or whatever lurked out there. I imagined a person hiding across the street beneath a neighbor's tree, or perhaps crouched right below the window, less than a foot from me, separated only by glass.
Struck with sudden fright, I yanked the curtains closed and moved quickly away from the window. My skin tingled. Joy didn't seem to notice my odd behavior.
I heard a key in the door and turned from the window to see my mom, graying blonde hair slipping from her bun. It was all I could do not to laugh with relief as she walked in and kicked off her sensible beige heels.
"Hey, Lil," she said, brushing wisps of hair off her face. She turned to Joy. "Oh, hello."
"Hello," Joy chirped pleasantly.
"You're home early," I said. My mom normally didn't show up until well after six.
"I've been working such long hours. I thought I deserved an evening to relax."
"Yeah . . ." I watched as she meandered into the kitchen, where she dropped her purse and started looking in the cabinets for dinner. We'd probably end up having pasta with butter again.
I saw Joy to the door a few minutes later, my smile falsely cheerful. After my experience at the window, I still felt uneasy about something. I wanted to warn her to be careful, that there might have been something lurking in
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