The agent didn't tell them the price until the drive home, and she said it like an apology. Sixty-one thousand. Eleven rooms, a wraparound porch. Mara signed before Daniel finished reading. That first night they slept on a mattress in the parlor. Above them, a floorboard creaked. Then again, slow and even, like someone pacing the room overhead. They were alone in the house.

Mara pulled the blanket over her head. "Old houses do that," she whispered. "Go to sleep." Daniel tried. But the pacing matched his own heartbeat, and when he held his breath, it slowed down too. Like whatever it was could feel him listening.

Daniel finally slept. He dreamed of all the people who'd lived here, lined up and pacing, and at the front of the line was an empty space shaped like two people. He woke at dawn to find Mara standing over him, eyes open, swaying gently back and forth. "It's our turn to keep time," she said, not in her own voice.

Daniel shook her hard and Mara blinked awake, herself again, terrified. They grabbed the car keys and didn't even take the mattress. As they backed out of the drive, every window of the house filled with pale watching faces, and one empty pane near the top, still waiting to be filled.