My grandmother’s fiery glaze darkened as it shot toward Ms. Baker, who only laughed. Corinne starting grunting again, her chest rising and falling with her aggravated breath. “Oh, don’t get yourself worked up in a tizzy over there. Enjoy your visit!”

My gaze shot to my grandmother. Fury poured out of her eyes like lava streams. Before the stroke, had anyone dared say something like that to her? Ms. Baker left the room, but Corinne’s stare remained at the door, her anger reflecting onto someone else other than me. I nibbled at my tray—barely a bite from each except the squash, which was just too rubbery for my stomach to tolerate. After a sip or two of tea, I set the tray aside, rose, and smoothed my suit.

“I should be getting back,” I said quietly, and Corinne’s gaze fell on me once more. Icy blue fire shot forth, and she began to pant. Grunt. Breathe hard. With my hand shaking, I reached for hers and grasped it. It was cold, thin, veiny. “I’ll see you in a few weeks,” I said softly.

Then I lifted my tray and left Corinne Belle’s room.

As I deposited my barely-touched meal to the kitchen, I noticed the staff was cheery and singing carols in the main hall, putting up their artificial Christmas tree. Boxes lay about, some opened with ornaments and red fuzzy bows spilling out the top. Ms. Baker waved goodbye as I headed to the lobby, and I didn’t catch a full breath until I’d stepped outside and closed the doors behind me.

Hurriedly, I crossed the parking lot, but it wasn’t until I’d managed to climb into the Lexus and close the door tightly behind me that I allowed myself to cry. With tears falling, I started the engine, backed out of my space, then left Oakview Nursing Home behind. At least for a few more weeks. One more visit. Then I’d have another break where I could just be at school, pretending I was someone entirely different than who I was.

I made it back to Belle House in record time, set another fire in the hearth, kicked off my pumps and changed into a pair of warm fleece pajamas. Beneath the blanket, I made it halfway through Sense and Sensibility before the last rays of daylight fell across the hall. Then I dug a banana out of my bag, sat cross-legged by the fire, and ate it. The moment my eyes drifted shut, the nightmares returned. I fought them all night. Those demons that hounded me. I woke up sweating, achey. I’d drift back into a restless sleep. By the time light shone through the drapes in the hall, I’d already been awake for an hour. I rose, dressed, and washed my face.

I spent the day preparing for my December visit, which basically included chopping more wood so that I’d have a fire to lay in front of when I came up for Christmas. I chopped for two solid hours. I didn’t even realize blisters had formed on my hands until I stopped—and they’d begun to sting. After I loaded the wood inside, I ran cold water over my palms. I supposed they’d just have to heal on their own.

The Christmas visit would be more lengthy, as we had nearly three weeks before the new semester started back up after New Year’s Day. It was a visit I dreaded, but I’d make sure I had enough to read. Enough to eat. I’d make it through, just like I always did. I called the electric company, deciding to keep the power on since it was just a few weeks away. At least then I wouldn’t have to run through the place, switching on lights. I’d leave them on. Every single one of them.

That night, I laid by the fire on the floor in the gathering hall, and as the wind beat at the walls of Belle House, and the noises of an old decrepit mansion made frightening grunts and groans similar to the lady of the house who once ruled with an iron fist, I pulled the blankets up to my chin, squeezed my eyes shut. Fear stabbed at me—my old room was up there, after all, and the dark room on the third floor, and the memories that came with both chewed and clawed and pawed at the door like some wild beast. But I thought of Kane, the soothing softness of his husky voice, his all-knowing eyes, and his beautiful face. For once, the demons stayed away.

By the time morning cracked through the drapes in the gathering hall, I’d decided it was probably the longest I’d ever slept in Belle House. Ever. I credited it to thoughts of Kane, which had somehow soothed me. It frightened me, how many thoughts of him invaded me now. What would happen when he left? I hated thinking about it and refused to do so. I’d deal with it when it happened. And it would undoubtedly happen.

After stacking more wood by the hearth, and making sure the fire was properly extinguished, I gathered my things, closed the front door and locked it. Dropping the copper key back under the mat, I hurried to my car, climbed in, and left. Driving away from Belle House always felt like a double-edged sword; glad to be leaving, yet feeling as though a rabid dog was bounding after me, chasing me down the lane, down the bluff, until I’d safely reached the highway. Only then did I breathe easy. The drive was long. Quiet. Overcast. The blisters on my palms stung. I tried to fill my thoughts with anything other than my return Christmas visit to Belle House. So I thought of Kane. Of every moment we’d spent together since he first asked me directions to the observatory.

“It’s not possible that Corinne Belle still has spies keeping an eye out on me,” I said out loud. “Is it? She can’t give commands anymore. How can she? She only has her mean cold eyes left.” I watched the scenery pass by, and signs of winter clung to the half-bare limbs and browned grass. “No one stayed behind at the house. The attorney said there was no one else left, except me.” I chewed my lip. “Only me.”

I pulled through Winston’s front gates just before dark. The campus was still quiet; most of the students would start straggling back through the gates late tomorrow afternoon, and that was fine by me. But when I turned down my street I noticed someone sitting on the front porch of Delta House. And it wasn’t a Delta.