Susannah helps me put an extra comforter on one of the four-poster beds while Alice works on the other one. My dad comes into the spare bedroom carrying a pitcher of water and four glasses on a silver tray. He sets it down on a round table between two armchairs.

“Silver tray, huh? I can see why Mom called you ‘Charles the fancy.’ ”

He suppresses a grin. “Hmmm. Maybe you’re right. And maaaybe I should just take this box of homemade Meriwether éclairs down with me when I go. They might be too fancy.”

“What?” I stop tucking in the comforter and look at him.

Mary comes into the room, freshly changed into maroon plaid pajamas.

My dad pulls out a pink pastry box tied with string from behind the pitcher. “It’s a real shame I’m going to have to eat these fancy éclairs by myself. We’ll just tell Mary that you didn’t want them.”

“Um, no. Sam, whatever you did, I need you to fix it stat,” Mary says with such a serious face that even Alice smiles.

I put both hands up in the air and do my best surrendering voice. “Okay, okay. I concede. You’re not fancy. Not even a little. Éclairs are an everyman’s food.”

He chuckles and puts the box back down on the table. “You girls sure you’ll have enough space in here? We have more bedrooms if you want them.”

“Two queen-sized beds are more than enough. And besides, we work better as a unit,” Alice says, and I warm. I’m part of a unit.

“Fair enough,” my dad says. “I’m headed to bed now, but just let Sam know if you need anything.”

“Night, Dad. Love you.”

He closes the door behind him, and it takes Mary all of two seconds to grab the éclair box.

She pulls the string and opens the lid. “Wow. Just, wow. They’re decorated with rosebuds. They look like little works of art.” Mary tilts the box so we can see. In her plaid pajamas, with her dark curls piled on top of her head, she looks just like a little kid.

Alice raises an eyebrow. “If you even think about eating mine, I will push you out of bed while you’re sleeping.”

Mary curls up in an armchair with a mouth full of éclair. “What? I can’t hear you; I’m busy.”

Alice takes the other armchair, and Susannah and I sit on the bed near them. Mary hands us the pastry box. There is a meow behind me.

“Really?” I turn around, and sure enough, the black cat is sitting on the bed, staring at me from under its Neanderthal brow.

“What?” Mary asks.

“That cat I told you about. For unknown reasons, this black behemoth slept in my bed last night. And by the way it’s all spread out now, I think it might be here to stay with us tonight.”

Susannah turns around and scans the bed. “Where?”

Alice leans forward in her black silk pajamas to get a better look. “Just to be clear, you’re saying there’s a black ghost cat on that bed with you?”

“Yeah, right here.” I put my hand out behind me, and it rubs its head against my fingers.

Alice smirks. “Leave it to you to become a witch cliché in less than a week.”

Mary claps her hands together and lets out a little squeal. “I love this. Spirit cats I can totally deal with, spirit humans…not so much.”

“Actually, speaking of spirits, I have a suggestion,” Alice says.

“Oh no.” Mary frowns. “Don’t ruin my happy moment.”

Alice looks at Mary. “You haven’t even heard it yet.”

“I don’t have to. If you were sure about it, you would just tell us we’re doing it. If you’re suggesting it, that means it’s either super uncomfortable or risky.”

“Hear, hear,” Susannah says.

“Everyone just untwist your panties for a second,” says Alice. “Nothing we’re doing right now isn’t risky. If we wanted to be safe, we would’ve locked ourselves up in my protected room all weekend. We’re at Sam’s house, which is clearly a hot spot for weird shit. And we need information.”

Alice swallows her last bite and wipes her hands on a napkin before continuing. “Tomorrow we’ll research Myra and the weird objects that have been showing up to see if we can connect the dots. But what if we go a step further than research and try to talk to her in person? Maybe she can tell us what the deal is with the hat and why all these objects are appearing.”

“Like try to summon her spirit?” Mary pulls her knees a little closer to her body.

“Yeah. With Sam’s abilities, it makes a lot of sense,” Alice says.

Susannah’s eyebrows push together. “We have no idea what side of this Myra’s on. Yes, we need information. But we could be walking straight into a huge problem. And Samantha can see spirits, but they can also hurt her. We’re specifically putting her at risk. Or maybe setting ourselves up for a trap.”

“It’s less risky than using that potion on the dress,” I say. “And Myra is the common denominator in most of these clues. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is see more spirits, but I’m fully with Alice on this one.”

Mary frowns. “But that spell’s in the gray area.”

“Gray area?” Do I want to know?

“It’s not good or bad magic, but somewhere in between,” Susannah says. “Gray spells leave lots of room for error. You can’t exactly control them, and you don’t know what you’re gonna get. Not everyone can do gray spells. Alice is banking on your natural ability, I think. And since you’re untrained, a world of things could go wrong.”

“You are certainly not doing that spell. Is this the type of nonsense you have been discussing all day in that room where I cannot watch you?” Elijah stands by the door, his jaw set.

I jump. “You do not just get to pop in here and criticize like that. If you wanted to be included, you should never have let me believe you left!” Even as the words leave my mouth, I’m surprised by how raw they sound.

For a split second Elijah seems unsure. “Samantha, this is not the time for that discussion.”

I slide off the bed. “Because you chose to blink in while my friends were here? Not my fault.”

“Um, what’s going on?” Mary’s eyes are wide, and her voice is high-pitched.

Elijah looks flustered. “This is not any more comfortable for me than it is for you.”

“Samantha?” Susannah says, and looks back and forth between me and the door I appear to be yelling at.

I lift my chin. “We’re doing the spell. And I don’t need your input.”

Alice’s mouth opens. “So, not the drowned man, then.”

Elijah’s stubborn expression intensifies. “You are not doing that spell and that is the end of it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Indeed.” Elijah blinks out.

I’m left standing there with my hands clenched and my chest rising and falling emphatically. The girls stare at me.

“That”—I wave angrily at the door—“was Elijah. Alice, set up the spell,” I say with force.

Alice heads for her overnight bag and digs around in it for a moment. She pulls out a black cloth pouch. “Sam, I really think—” The cloth pouch disappears from her hand. Alice’s eyes widen. “What the hell?”

I shake my hands in the air. “Give that back!”

Nothing.

“Alice, is there another way to do the spell without whatever was in that bag?”

The lights go out. Mary screams.

“Damn it, Elijah!” I march over to the light switch and flick it up and down. Nothing. I open the door. The dim light from the hallway floods in. I peer inside my floor lamp. He didn’t just turn the light off. He took the bulb.

“Sam?” My dad comes to the door, concern written all over him. “What happened? I heard someone scream.”

I steady my voice. “Lightbulb blew.”

He examines the lamp. “You mean gone?” He sounds unsure.

“We took it out.”

“Oh. Well, let me get you another one. You girls get in bed.”

“Okay, thanks, Dad.”

Mary doesn’t hesitate. She looks all kinds of relieved we’re not doing that spell and jumps under one of the comforters.

My dad leaves the door open and makes his way down the hall.

I pull the covers up over my shoulders.

“So Elijah’s back?” Susannah asks.

“Apparently,” I say.

“Wasn’t he a pretty important part of figuring out what was going on with your stepmother?” Susannah asks.

Damn it. “Yes.”

“Screw Susannah’s gentle approach. I don’t know what happened between you two, but are you really that stubborn?” Alice asks. “You know we’re already in the danger zone with this. Weren’t you the one just saying you’re all in?”

“Point taken,” I say begrudgingly. The black cat curls up against my side and blinks at me. “Move over, cat.”

“Maybe you should call the cat Spirit,” Mary suggests.

“Or bed hog,” I say, rubbing its head between the ears.

“His name is Broome,” Elijah says.

I scowl into the blackness.