Page 100 of Monsters in Love: Lost in the Underworld

HAUNTED HEART

DALIA DAVIES

Rule numberone of a haunted house should probably be “don’t fall in love with the two-hundred-year-old poltergeist.”

But “don’t go into the cellar” is a good one too.

I’ve done my best to make sure no one does.

The house is more than two hundred years old, but the padlock is brand new.

I replaced the lock and chains last month when the old metal finally succumbed to rust.

Grabbing the cold metal, I give it a shake, doing my nightly check that everything is safe and secure.

“No one needs to go down there tonight.” And even though the house isn’t mine, I like to think of myself as its caretaker.

I look up the siding to the window where dim light flickers. The paint is chipped and flaking. Some of the boards have begun to crumble. Maybe I’ll ask her if I can fix them this summer when the air doesn’t hold this sour chill.

There are a few other things on my checklist and the sun has started to set. My time is running out.

I hurry around the side of the house and up the porch, to where I left my bags.

But when I open the door and let it swing wide on creaking hinges, someone behind me shrieks.

“Genevieve, wait!”

A shadowy figure runs toward me, across the field, but as soon as I see her coppery braids flailing, I know it’s not some well-intentioned stranger trying to stop me from going into the house.

It’s just Minnie.

My twin sister bolts up the stairs, her heels thud on the boards, but she stops a good five feet from the open door.

Julia doesn’t let her inside anymore, and Minnie’s smart enough to respect her banishment.

She gulps air and leans forward, hands to knees. “I need a page from the book.”

The book.

Minnie and I have never had a problem sharing, but Ican’tlet her take it. Until I’m done.

“Not a chance.”

“Please? Chad is coming over and I need it.”

Our “boy problems” couldn’t be more different.

“I can’t. If you want it, you’ll either have to wait or memorize what you need in the next five minutes.”

She shakes her head, braids flailing. “There’s a third option.”

She takes another step and I move between her and the bags.

“I swear on everything unholy, I will not take it off this porch.”

I hesitate, but she swore…

I look past her as I pull the green bound book from one of the bags and when I hand it to her, she starts flipping through the pages.

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