Sunlight through the thinning atmosphere beat down on him like an interrogator's spotlight. It was a long, sticky wait. Locals told him Vermont summers were getting hotter, and he never doubted them.

The ride Wyn had promised him was late.

This was crazy.

Not much crazier than living in a hostel when family and friends would have him, but Ari knew he was trading one crazy decision for another.

He was flipping that particular thought around in his brain, trying to spin it in a way that felt reasonable, when a Ford Aerostar turned in to the lot and gargled alongside the curb Ari had chosen to wait on. It was painted in a deep navy blue, and the windows were tinted. Ari took a reflexive step back from the curb. And another when the side panel chunked and rattled open.

The man - no, the kid, from the video of Wyn dropping dead in the field was waiting inside. Viewed face to face, he was very clearly just old enough work an overnight job like this. He was skinny and gawky with bright red hair worn in a messy ponytail, and a complexion that reminded Ari of the whipped cream running off strawberry shortcake. 

"You're Ariel, right?" The kid with the berries and cream face pronounced it like they did in The Fish Movie.

"It's Ari, but yeah." Ari tried to crane his neck and shoulders around the kid to see into the van. There was a driver, obviously, but all Ari could make out was a great amount of glossy black hair obscuring their head and face. Not Wyn or Caleb, then. "Is Wyn with you?"

At the mention of Wyn, the kid cringed. "He's asleep in the back. Try not to squish him when you throw your stuff in. It's unlocked."

The interior Ari found when he swung the back doors of the van open wasn't what he expected from an Aerostar: It was mostly storage space, and much of that was occupied by solid black storage boxes Ari assumed contained audio-visual equipment. Wyn was in one of two passenger seats that remained, slumped sideways against the window like a little kid on a long roadtrip.

His duffle bag thudded on the floor of the van. He'd stuffed it very full, keeping in mind two things: Wyn's terse, unpunctuated text to him late the night before had warned him to prepare for at least two overnight stays. And for the fact he probably wouldn't have a job when they got back. 

Whatever. Ari pushed his bags between the two seats and climbed into the van by way of the back doors, then claimed his de facto spot across from Wyn. 

"That's Graham, by the way," the driver spoke up as she shifted the van back into drive and started piloting them out of the lot. "I'm Ellie."

"It's short for Elvira," the kid, Graham, put in.

"It's definitely not."

The seatbelt scratched into Ari's clavicle when he twisted to try and get what felt like one final look at the hostel's back end. He felt obligated to do it. Like that was how you make the feeling of a meaningful leaving happen.

It didn’t.

"Where's Caleb?"

"Our good lord has ridden out before us," Graham said, performing an extravagant gesture in the air above his head. Ellie tipped her head toward the window to avoid his flailing. "Meaning he's already done the two hour drive and he's waiting for us."

"Two hours?" Ari tried not to sound panicked. ”Where are we even going?"

"Someplace around White River Junction," Ellie said. She tapped the grainy readout on the GPS unit suction cupped to the Aerostar's dash.

"A dump," Graham added. Then he turned around in his seat to face Ari. "You read the brief, right?"

"No." He'd skimmed the papers from Wyn, but he hadn't read closely enough to risk dissuading himself from something he'd already decided to do. 

"Caleb's gonna love you." Graham gestured at Wyn, who was still deeply asleep. "How much did the ghoul tell you?"

"That some old lady died and her family can't sell the house." Ari's brain was still stuck on the fact that if anyone called he'd be two hours away. "How much more do I need to know?"

"For starters, the house itself is a big issue," Ellie said. She was taking them onto the highway at this point. "It's an old place, and totally packed with junk."

"Caleb sent me photos. It's brutal." There was a little shudder running underneath Graham's voice, which he immediately undercut by asking, "Wanna see?"

"I'm good."