Crescendo

Completely unaware of me, he climbed a set of steps to his right and disappeared inside one of the abandoned townhouses.

The hairs on my neck rose. “Dad?”

I broke into an automatic jog. I crossed the street without bothering to look for traffic, knowing there was none. When I made it to the townhouse I was sure he’d entered, I tried the tall double doors. Locked. I shook the handles, rattling the doors, but they didn’t give. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peered through one of the windows flanking the door. The lights were off, but I could make out lumps of furniture covered in pale sheets. My heart was beating all over the place. Was my dad alive? All this time—had he been living here?

“Dad!” I called through the glass. “It’s me—Nora!”

At the top of the staircase inside the townhouse, his shoes vanished down the hall. “Dad!” I yelled, pounding the glass. “I’m out here!”

I backed away, head tilted up, looking at the second-story windows, watching for his shadow to pass by.

The back entrance.

The thought floated to the surface of my mind, and I immediately acted on it. I jogged down the steps, slipping into the narrow passageway cutting between this townhouse and the next. Of course. The back door. If it was unlocked, I could get inside to my dad—

Ice kissed the back of my neck. The chill tiptoed down my spine, momentarily paralyzing me. I stood at the end of the passageway, eyes fastened on the backyard. Bushes swayed docilely in the breeze. The open gate creaked on its hinges. Very slowly I backed away, not about to trust the stillness. Not about to believe I wasn’t alone. I’d felt this way before, and it had always signaled danger.

Nora, we’re not alone. Someone else is here. Go back!

“Dad?” I whispered, my mind darting.

Go find Vee. You need to leave! I’ll find you again. Hurry!

I didn’t care what he said—I wasn’t leaving. Not until I knew what was going on. Not until I saw him. How could he expect me to leave? He was here. A flutter of relief and nervous excitement bubbled up inside me, eclipsing any fear I felt.

“Dad? Where are you?”

Nothing.

“Dad?” I tried again. “I’m not leaving.”

This time there was an answer.

The back door is unlocked.

I touched my head, feeling his words echo there. Something was different about his voice this time, but not noticeably enough to place a finger on it. Slightly colder, maybe? Sharper? “Dad?” I whispered at the faintest volume.

I’m inside.

His voice was louder now, a real sound. Not just in my head this time, but in my ears, too. I turned toward the house, certain he’d spoken through the window. Stepping off the flagstone path, I tentatively laid my palm on the windowpane. I desperately wanted it to be him, but at the same time, the goose bumps popping up all over my skin warned me it could be a trick. A trap.

“Dad?” My voice wavered. “I’m scared.”

On the other side of the glass, a hand mirrored mine, five fingertips aligning with my own. My dad’s gold wedding band was on the ring finger of his left hand. My blood pumped so hard I felt dizzy. It was him. My dad was inches away. Alive.

Come inside. I won’t hurt you. Come, Nora.

The urgency in his words frightened me. I clawed at the window, trying to locate the latch, desperately needing to throw my arms around him and stop him from leaving again. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I thought about running around to the back door, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave him, even for a few seconds. I couldn’t lose him again.

I splayed my hand on the window, harder this time. “I’m right here, Dad!”

This time, the glass frosted at my touch. Tiny fibers of ice branched across the glass with a brittle, crackling noise. I jerked away at the sudden cold that shot up my arm, but my skin was stuck to the glass. Frozen. Crying out, I tried to free myself using my other hand. My dad’s hand melted through the windowpane and closed around mine, holding me so I couldn’t run. He jerked me roughly forward, the bricks snagging my clothes, my arm impossibly vanishing into the window. My terrified reflection stared back, my mouth open in a startled scream. The only thought pounding through my head was that this couldn’t be my dad.

“Help!” I yelled. “Vee! Can you hear me? Help!”

Thrashing my body side to side, I tried to use my weight to break free. A piercing pain sliced into the forearm he held captive, and an image of a knife burst into my mind with such intensity that I thought my head had split in two. Fire licked my forearm— he was cutting me open.

“Stop!” I shrieked. “You’re hurting me!”

I felt his presence flex across my mind, his own sight eclipsing mine. There was blood everywhere. Black and slippery … and mine. Bile rose in my throat.

“Patch!” I screamed into the night with nothing short of terror and absolute desperation.

The hand dissolved from around mine, and I dropped backward to the ground. Instinctively I clutched my wounded arm against my shirt to stop the bleeding, but to my amazement, there was no blood. No cut.

Gulping air, I stared up at the window. Perfectly intact, it reflected the tree behind me, which swung back and forth in the night air. I scurried to my feet and stumbled out to the sidewalk. I ran in the direction of the Devil’s Handbag, turning to glance over my shoulder every few steps. I expected to see my dad—or his doppelgänger—appear from one of the townhouses, holding a knife, but the sidewalk stayed empty.

I faced forward to cross the street and saw the person a half blink before I slammed into her.

“There you are,” Vee said, reaching out to steady me as I choked back a scream. “I think we missed each other. I made it to the Devil’s Handbag and backtracked to find you. Are you okay? You look ready to throw up.”

I didn’t want to stand on the street corner any longer. Reflecting on what had just happened at the townhouse, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the time I’d hit Chauncey with the Neon. Moments later, the car had returned to normal, leaving no evidence of an accident. But this time it was personal. This time it was my dad. My eyes burned, and my jaw quivered as I spoke. “I—I thought I saw my dad again.”

Vee folded her arms around me. “Babe.”

“I know. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real,” I repeated, trying to reassure myself. I blinked several times in succession, tears staining my vision. But it had felt real. So very real …

“Do you want to talk about it?”

What was there to talk about? I was being haunted. Someone was messing with my mind. Toying with me. A fallen angel? A Nephil? My dad’s ghost? Or was it my own mind betraying me? It wasn’t like this was the first time I’d imagined seeing my dad. I’d thought he was trying to communicate with me, but maybe this was a self- defense mechanism. Maybe my mind was making me see things I refused to accept were gone forever. It was filling the void, because that was easier than letting go.

Whatever had happened back there, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t my dad. He would never hurt me. He loved me.

“Let’s go back to the Devil’s Handbag,” I said, exhaling shakily. I wanted to distance myself from the townhouse as quickly as possible. Once more I told myself that whoever I’d seen back there, he wasn’t my dad.

The echoing clash, clang, and whine of drums and guitars warming up for the show grew louder, and while my panic was slow to subside, I felt my heartbeat slowing down. There was something reassuring about the idea of losing myself inside the swarm of hundreds of bodies packed inside the warehouse. Despite what had happened, I didn’t want to go home, and I didn’t want to be alone; I wanted to slip into the center of the crowd. There was strength in numbers.