Gwynn shuddered. 

The house hungered. If this didn't stop, they would lose someone.

Sophia crossed the entrance. With every step, the darkness ate at her, swallowing her before Gwynn's eyes. The moonlight played across the threshold, battling with the darkness beyond. In the dim light, he still could see her blond sea of curls. The house had her now— far enough the dark obscured her like a blackened veil. Sophia didn't move any further. A wind picked up, kicking dust and years of trash into the air. It stung his eyes, but Gwynn wouldn't turn away. Out of the corners of his eyes, his classmates turned and shielded their own eyes, yet none protested or said a word, shock and a creeping horror having stolen their voices. When most were no longer looking, the door of the house swung shut. As it closed, Sophia spun, and for the briefest moment, Gwynn caught her terror–filled eyes. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed across the fields surrounding them and the wind dropped. Everyone stood staring at the house. Time crawled for Gwynn. He fought against the invisible restraints binding him. He prayed Sophia would come strolling out of the house, giggling, unscathed.

A scream shattered the silence.

The sound sent a lightning bolt through Gwynn. Despite the ill feeling in his stomach, the pressure on his chest, the strangling feeling in his throat, he surged forward. He reached the door and yanked on the knob. It refused to turn. He used both hands. He yelled at it, kicked it, and swore— the swearing giving way to a strangled sob.

"Somebody help me," he cried. His classmates gawked in mute silence. "At least use your cell phones to call for help." Someone might have made a move for a phone. Meanwhile, his head worked on getting into the house.

"Sophia!" He kept calling her name, waiting between to listen for any reply. Nothing came.

Gwynn stalked the perimeter of the house. A door at the back refused his attempts at entry as much as the front. He found a large rock and moved to the front of the house. He hurled it with all his might at the front window, rewarded with a resounding crash. Gwynn pulled off his coat and found the night had lost all its warmth. He wrapped it around his arm and punched away at the remaining shards of the window. When he widened the gap enough, he crawled into the house.

Though his stupefied classmates were a wall away, they might as well have been in another world. The house creaked and groaned— a beast awakening from slumber. After ten years of silence, the Cameron House hungered again. Gwynn crouched on the floor, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom. He found himself in the front sitting room. The paint on the walls was the color of old blood. A thick blanket of dust covered the cracked leather furniture. The dark wood floors showed recent movement in the trails of dust.

Gwynn's insides were a town–destroying twister. A sharp pain stabbed up the length of his right arm. An invisible line hooked into his core and dragged him upstairs.

Sophia will be there, some alien instinct told him.

He moved cautiously. Deserted for years, the Cameron house could be a death trap of rotted boards. The last thing Gwynn needed now was to go through a floor and break something.

Gwynn shifted toward the door that led to the main entrance hall where Sophia entered. Beyond the door sounded a sporadic, heavy, Thump, Thump. He edged the door open and peered into the hall. A chill ran up his spine, and the taste of bile filled the back of his throat.

A body hung in the hall, swinging back and forth, hitting the stair railing. Gwynn looked for any other sign of movement but noticed nothing. He eased out and moved toward the body. A rope extended from the second-floor banister and wrapped around the body's neck.

"Not Sophia. Please, please not Sophia."

He got closer. Not only was the body not Sophia, it wasn't even a person. Someone created a life–sized doll out of clothes stuffed with newspaper. Being closer to the door, he noticed a bucket suspended above it. He didn't want to know what the bucket contained. The full extent of the plan became apparent. Eric intended for Gwynn to come in the house all along. He'd been counting on it. Someone, maybe the two or three members of the football team who were missing from the coffee shop gathering, came ahead and prepared to scare Gwynn. But Sophia entered first. Did one of the football team's pranks scare her? Maybe they were keeping her quiet, hoping to get a shot at their intended target.

Above him, something sighed, and a floorboard creaked. At the second floor landing, a dark mass darted to the left— fluid and fast. Gwynn blinked several times, trying to focus on what he'd seen. From the direction where it fled floorboards groaned. He tried to convince himself it was one of the football team.

He started up the stairs. They gave a loud moan with each step. The third gave way, his leg crashing through the wood. Gwynn eased it free. Bloody scrapes covered his leg, and his pants were garbage. The dim light made it difficult to see any embedded slivers in his leg. It stung like hell. He gritted his teeth and moved up the remaining steps— a slow and tedious endeavor as he tested each step before putting his weight on it. Above, the sound of something heavy dragging across the floor joined the noises of complaining floorboards.

Gasping, Gwynn reached the top of the stairs. His feet slipped. A dark liquid covered the ground. He bent down and dipped a finger into it. It was tacky and smelled metallic. His stomach lurched, and acid burned his throat. His right arm screamed. Gwynn crept left where the shadow disappeared. In one of the rooms, a set of steps led upward into the attic. The dark liquid he tried to convince himself wasn't blood, trailed upward.