Jezebeth curled up in her bed, clutching her knees to her chest. The house felt colder than usual, and the night stretched endlessly. Sarah Jane’s absence didn’t seem to bother their parents. Jezebeth couldn’t understand how they hadn’t noticed.

“She’s probably hiding,” their mother had said dismissively over supper. “You know how she loves her little games.”

Their father had barely looked up from his plate. “She’ll turn up when she’s hungry enough.”

But Jezebeth couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Sarah Jane hadn’t been in her room. She hadn’t been outside by the creek, or under the willow tree where she liked to read. Jezebeth had checked everywhere she could think of—except the barn.

Her stomach tightened at the thought. The warlocks.

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Sarah Jane wouldn’t have actually gone there... would she? Jezebeth buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. “It’s my fault,” she whispered to herself.

The words replayed in her mind, the teasing dare she hadn’t meant for Sarah Jane to take seriously: “I bet they’ll think you’re perfect for it.”

She hadn’t really believed her little sister would go. Sarah Jane was such a baby, always running to their mother when things got too scary. But what if this time had been different? What if...

Jezebeth shook her head, her heart racing. “No. She’s just hiding,” she told herself, her voice cracking.

But another thought crept in, one she didn’t want to believe: the warlocks. They must have done something to Sarah Jane. The warlocks—and maybe the doll, too.

Her gaze darted to the vanity. There sat Sarah Lee Wonder, still and silent as always, but something about it felt wrong. The painted eyes seemed to glint faintly in the moonlight, mocking her.

Jezebeth shivered. “This is stupid,” she muttered, hugging her knees tighter. But she didn’t look away from the doll. She couldn’t.

The faintest sound—a giggle, high-pitched and sharp—drifted through the room. Jezebeth froze.

“Sarah?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The doll didn’t move, but Jezebeth’s heart pounded like a drum. She bit her lip, her breath quickening. Maybe she’d been wrong to tease Sarah. Maybe she’d been wrong about a lot of things.

And maybe, just maybe, the warlocks hadn’t killed Sarah Jane.

Not yet.