While the towering staircase rose alone like an ancient monolith in the clearing, there were still faint signs of the home that had once enveloped it. Beneath the blanket of freshly fallen orange and red leaves, a sunken depression outlined the remnants of a large foundation. A cracked and broken front path led to a granite threshold. It was easy to imagine a pair of broad double doors opening onto a large ballroom, the indomitable staircase, clean and new, flowing down from the upper floors.

Lester and his friends had pushed their bikes up the drive and through the trees in silence, trepidation and excitement increasing with every step. Along the way, each had quietly hoped one of the others might suggest they turn around. Now, staring at the staircase that led nowhere, Lester wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or disappointed. What had happened to the people who’d lived here? Why had they painted the symbol on the mailbox? Was it a fire that had destroyed their stately home and caused them to move away, or were they buried under the stones in the nearby cemetery? If no one was left to tell the tale, where would Lester and his friends find the answers they so desperately needed?

“What’s that?” Mae asked, pointing.

Beyond the ruins, at the far edge of the clearing, sat a small cottage. Judging by its location and size, it had once been the caretaker’s quarters for the main house. Weathered and gray, it was nearly invisible beneath a camouflage of twisting vines and branches that reached out from the nearby forest. If not for the thin wisps of smoke rising from the dilapidated dwelling’s small stone chimney, they might not have noticed it.

The steps creaked as the three friends carefully made their way up onto the cottage’s rotting porch, eyeing the dark windows for signs of life.

“It’s not made out of candy if that’s what you’re thinking,” a silky voice said. “But by all means, feel free to give it a lick if you don’t believe me.”

Lester, Mae, and Amanda yelped in surprise, jumping and clutching at each other to keep from toppling over.

In the far corner of the porch, hidden among the shadows, a woman gently swayed back and forth on a wooden rocking chair.

“My apologies,” she said, feigning sympathy. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Well, that’s not entirely true. I did, but I suppose it’s polite to claim that I didn’t.” She leaned forward into the sunlight, and as her face came into view, she winked.

A cold shiver ran down both of Lester’s arms. “I know you,” he said, pulling his coat tighter.

They hadn’t spoken the morning the fog and cows had caused the accident, but the face of the strange old woman peering out from behind a tree had visited more than one of Lester’s nightmares.

“And I know you, Lester North, son of Edward and Patricia, brother to Bernard and Mathis-s-s-s,” she said, extending the name into a snake-like hiss.

“Who’s Mathis?” Mae whispered to Amanda.

“Not now,” Amanda whispered back. She quietly took Lester’s hand in hers.

“Are you a friend of my parents?” Lester asked. Seeing the woman up close for the first time, he realized she wasn’t old at all. Her light blonde hair had appeared almost white in the shade of the forest. But looking at her now, he guessed she was probably about the same age as his mother.

“Friends? No. Are these your friends?” the woman asked, nodding towards Mae and Amanda.

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“We were wondering if we could ask you some questions?” Lester said, abandoning the ruse of selling newspaper subscriptions and cutting straight to the point of their visit. He kept his tone light, as though they were researching a report for school.

“Is that so? A North, a Gray, and a Cambion,” the woman said, eyeing Lester, Mae, and Amanda in turn, “want to ask me questions?” She tapped the end of her chin in fake contemplation.

“Yes,” Lester continued, “about the symbol on your mailbox.”

“Oh — I see.” The woman eyed Lester with a satisfied smile as though he’d just confirmed something she’d been thinking. “In that case, I’ll make you a bargain, son of Patricia. You may ask me questions if I may do the same? Do we have a deal?”

“Do it, Lester, and let’s get out of here,” Amanda whispered.

“What was that, Cambion!” the woman snapped, her placid face hardening into a glare.

Lester felt Amanda stiffen beside him. “She was just saying what a lovely spot you have here,” he said, gesturing to the grounds.

Amanda made a show of brushing dust from her pants and shot the woman a stern look of her own. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s delightful.”

A quiet moment passed as the two stared at each other.

“Why don’t I go first,” Lester suggested before either of them could say anything else. “Can you tell me about the symbol on your mailbox?”

The woman’s attention slowly drifted back to Lester, the smile returning to her face. “No. I cannot.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?” asked Lester.

“Tut, tut,” she replied, wagging a finger at him. “That’s another question. Someone’s not taking turns.”

“Quite right,” Lester said. Biting back his frustration, he took in a slow breath and gestured for her to ask him something.

“How old are you?” the woman asked.

Lester was surprised at the simplicity of the question. Anyone in town could have discovered this without much effort. But then again, he’d never seen her in town.

“Eleven,” he said.

“Very interesting.”

Eager for a second try, Lester quickly asked, “Do you know what the symbol on your mailbox means?”

“No. I do not.”

Lester glanced at Mae, who shrugged. He’d just have to keep going.

“When is your birthday?” the woman asked.

“August twenty-seventh,” said Lester.

She let out a small chirp of excitement and clapped her hands. “Now, this is fun!”

“Who painted the symbol on your mailbox?”

“Ah, better. Maybe you’re smarter than you look.”

“Well?” Lester asked, ignoring the slight.

“Father painted it years ago. Happy?”

“Yes,” Lester said, truthfully, finally feeling like they were getting somewhere.

“Do you have any younger siblings?” the woman asked next.

“No,” answered Lester.

“I see. I see. Last of three,” she mumbled to herself while holding up three fingers.

“Why did he paint the symbol on your mailbox?”

“I don’t know. Father was the linguist. You’d have to ask him.”

“And where is he?”

“Third stone from the gate,” the woman said with a wry smile and pointed in the direction of the cemetery.

“Fine,” Lester said, unable to mask his irritation. “Since you don’t have any useful information, we’ll be going.” He turned to leave, Amanda and Mae already walking down the steps in front of him.

“Wait!” the woman called, getting out of her chair. “You play a good game. Don’t you want your prize?” She shuffled towards him across the creaking boards, her gait unsteady.

As Lester watched her approach, he thought she moved as though she’d been injured. Whether it was an old wound or something more recent, he couldn’t tell. Then her foot slipped, and he found himself reflexively reaching out to catch her as she tumbled forward into him.

“What was unknown is now known,” she whispered in his ear, her warm breath brushing his neck as her hand clamped down on his arm. “Watch yourself, North child. For they are coming.” She pressed something into Lester’s palm and closed his fingers tightly around it. Then she spun to face Mae and Amanda. “Boo!”

Both girls screamed and fled.

Lester, choosing to skip the steps entirely, leaped to the ground and raced to catch up with his running friends.