“Abi?” I call again. Is there audio surveillance, too?

“Ms. Lowan, everything all right?” It’s Abi’s disembodied voice, coming from an unseen speaker.

“The lights went out.”

“Oh, the circuit box. I’ll be right down. Stay put.”

So audio and visual surveillance. Good to know.

After sliding the box back, then shining the phone light in front of me, I leave the storage unit and lock it behind me.

A noise from behind causes me to spin. I expect to see Abi.

But instead, the beam of my flashlight catches a small, slim figure slipping around the corner.

“Hello?” I call, following. “Hello?”

Ahead of me, there is the light pattering of footsteps. But every corner I turn, there’s nothing, just blackness that dissipates in the beam of my light. My heart starts to thump.

When we were little, I used to chase Sarah into the woods, where she would hide until I found her. She was impossibly fast and could make herself invisible, snuggling into the crooks of trees, crouching behind rocks. She was like a fairy or an elf, one with the forest, where I always felt like an interloper crashing and tripping, getting whipped by branches.

Around the next corner there’s a crouched form. I almost say her name.Sarah.It’s not Sarah, of course, but a little boy, in a smart school uniform, crisp white shirt and black leather shoes. He’s on the ground, his arms wrapped around his legs, resting his forehead on his knees. I can see the rise and fall of his breath. The blond of his hair glints in the light from my phone.

He must be scared, maybe playing in the basement when the lights went out.

“Hey,” I say. I didn’t think there were any children in this building. Must be a visiting grandchild. He could have come down the service elevator or the stairs. “It’s okay. The lights will come back on and Abi’s on his way.”

I move in closer, reach out a hand to gently touch his back, but as I do, he turns. I reel back in horror.

His eyes are gouged out, and his throat is a hideous blue-black. He opens his mouth wide and it’s a maw, its darkness swirling and endless. He issues a horrible shriek that electrifies every nerve ending in my body.

I back up into the concrete wall, hitting my head hard against an exposed pipe. My own scream is an echo of his. He moves closer, closer, and I turn to run from him.

But the lights come on as suddenly as they went off, and I run right straight into Abi, who comes fast around the corner looking as scared as I feel.

“Ms. Lowan,” he says. “Are you hurt? You were screaming.”

“There’s a boy,” I say.

But I spin and there’s nothing there. “He was right here.”

I follow the path of the blood that must be dripping from my own head. But the hallway dead ends at the laundry room—which in the light, looks about as crisp and white and unscary as a place can look.

I put a hand to the side of my head. When I draw my fingers back, they’re wet with blood. More blood—the accident, my period, my sister’s warning of a monster drinking from my jugular.

“There was a boy,” I say again.

“There are no children in this building, Ms. Lowan. Not anymore.”

“Someone’s grandchild?”

“No, no one visiting at the moment.”

Abi’s face is a mask of concern. “Let me help,” he says. “Please. You must have just given yourself a fright in the dark. I promise you there’s no one down here.”

I know what I saw. “Abi,” I say more firmly, “there was a boy. I saw him.”

“Let me take you to the Aldridges’ and I’ll go back to check,” he says with a nod. Is there the slightest tone of condescension?