Chapter 6

Ten minutes. Lucky decided to give Maverick ten minutes to come back before she left the library. That seemed fair. Coincidentally, that was about how long she projected it would take her to inspect the room.

There wasn’t much else to it, and she felt fine being in there. She started at the door, walking the right-side perimeter, and touching random places. No cold spots. No change in energy. She passed the windows with her back turned, eyes closed—and immediately felt a pinch between her shoulder blades and at the base of her neck.

Whatever lure the orchard used still had its claws in her. She bit her lip to disguise her gleeful smile as she opened her notes again:

Might be a visual-based compulsion? Also capable of retaining access through proximity.

She’d have to be careful out there, but make no mistake, she was fully prepared to give in to the pressure. Her gut didn’t even disagree.

It had taken her a considerable amount of trial and error to find a balance between her instincts and her reckless desire for knowledge. If a location felt dangerous, but she wanted something that could only be found inside? Eight times out of ten, she’d be in there. Hopefully along with several contingency plans in place including two clear paths for exit.

Hopefully. Almost never always.

Once, she’d needed a quick escape and jumped out of a window on the second floor of a multistory building. She accidentally discovered the trick to not breaking one’s legs when falling—hit the ground at an angle and roll with the momentum.

Getting trapped in an orchard surrounded by neighbors with a production crew nearby wouldn’t be nearly as bad. Probably.

Lucky moved on to browsing the books neatly arranged in the built-in bookcases. The collection had its fair share of literary classics, an entire section of mass-market romance paperbacks, and a few popular titles she recognized that’d been published in the last few years.

At home, every single book in her collection had already been read—her choices curated from borrowing library books first. She always bought physical copies of the ones she loved best. If they had a space on her shelf, then they had a place in her heart. She couldn’t imagine having a whole room dedicated to a personal library full of books she’d never read, waiting for her to choose them.

Like any sensible bookworm, she’d brought her e-reader and a small carry-on bag full of physical books. Gothic manor willing, she was going to be there an entire month. She needed to keep busy! She needed options! She’d already unpacked them upstairs but could use a few more. As she searched reviews online for the titles that caught her eye, a muffled voice stole her attention.

Her entire being went still as a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and searching. The sound was coming from directly in front of her and had a slight echo.

She brought her ear as close as possible to the back panel of the shelf.

Footsteps. Someone was walking around in what sounded like an enclosed space.

Years of discipline had taught her to jump to plausible conclusions before entertaining supernatural ones. Even as her heart hammered with excitement and adrenaline flooded her system, she forced herself to think through the situation rationally.

Someone in the walls leaned toward improbable because there wasn’t another room next to the library…unless it had a false wall with a secret room behind it.

Lucky sprang into action, efficiently measuring by walking heel to toe from the doorway to the shelves, repeating the process in the hall until she hit the dead-end window. The shelves, which were the length of her hand from palm to fingertip, were nowhere near deep enough to take up the extra measured space in the hallway.

A secret room was in fact the likely solution. But who, or what, was inside?

Lucky frowned, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips as she considered her options. Trusty switchblade in her overalls pocket, she walked to the window at the end of the hall again. She didn’t know how the intruder got in, and if they made a break for it, she wanted to watch them do it. After clearing her throat, she shouted, “Whoever is in there, you better come out right now before I call the police.”

She wasn’t going to call the police. If anything, she’d call the private security company number Xander gave her to handle this.

“Right. Now.” She ground her teeth—it better not be a damn ghost. She was promised no ghosts. “You too, Casper! The order still stands. Out here, right now, front and center. I don’t have all day.”

Rapid footsteps. Something knocked against the wall. A tiny whispered “Ow.”

“Don’t make me count to five!”

A loud click sounded from inside the library—Lucky darted back to the room. She pushed past her rattling nerves and the dread crawling up her throat like a scream. Being in tune with her body and her fear kept her alive. Searching for the supernatural came with risks she was willing to take…up to a point.

In the far left corner, the smallest section of shelving moved away from the wall like a door. A brown face framed by braids appeared in the opening. “Casper?” she chirped hopefully, eyebrows raised.

Lucky continued to frown as her jaw dropped.

There was a little girl in Hennessee House. A little girl walking around inside the walls talking to herself.

Everything about the intruder screamed adorable. From her sweet little voice to her wide brown eyes to the cluster of freckles on her nose and forehead. She reminded Lucky of a strawberry shortcake with her khaki shorts, white shirt, and bright red bandana. It’d been folded into a headband, with the ends sticking up like bunny ears atop her head. She wasn’t scared. Or worried. Or apologetic. Instead, she was bursting with stubborn hope and daring magic in equal measures. Childlike wonder and mischief personified, but not the kind that faded over time. She’d only grow brighter, more inquisitive with each passing year.

Reading children occasionally threw Lucky. For the most part, a person’s core almost never changed. Personality? Yes. Core? Unlikely. People were who they were, whether or not they discovered it yet. However, sometimes children felt a little…soft. All the ingredients were there but hadn’t finished cooking. This girl, however, seemed to be done.

“Well, at least you’re not a sickly Victorian child.” Lucky pointed to one of the armchairs. “Sit down.”

The little girl obliged. Head slightly bowed, she plopped down, sitting all the way back with her feet hovering above the ground.

“Don’t move.”

The room beyond the shelf door was small, rectangular, and exactly the length of the unaccounted-for slice of library. Empty with no direct source of light, it smelled like dust and grass, and didn’t seem to have any other way in besides where she stood. No trap doors in the ceiling. Nothing on or near the floor.

Lucky glanced at her unexpected guest. How in the hell did she get in? Her clothes were clean and pressed—someone had ironed pleats into her shorts. And those suckers were crisp.

Kids, and their clothes, didn’t stay neat like that on their own. The millisecond they got dressed, stains and wrinkles mysteriously appeared out of nowhere. Once while working as a nanny, she had to stop one of her former kids from wearing tights full of runs to church because she “didn’t care” and another from wearing a dirty dress fresh out of the hamper because it was her “favorite.” On the same morning.

Looks could be deceiving, but Lucky felt confident enough to bet that this little girl was well cared for. She wasn’t a missing kid living in the walls of a usually empty house because she had nowhere else to go.

She closed the door. “What’s your name?”

“Rebel.”

“You lying?”

“My dad said he thought I was going to be a boy and he wanted to name me after him, but I’m a girl so he decided to give me my own name that was like his but different.”

“Uh-huh. Are you here by yourself?”

“Umm, well, right now I’m here with you.”

“Don’t be cute. That doesn’t work on me, Shortcake,” she lied. Most regrettably, it did. Her one true nanny-weakness. “Answer my questions. Are you here by yourself and how did you get in there?”

Rebel grimaced, clearly weighing if she should divulge her secrets. “You know that small red square on the side of the house?”

She didn’t but said, “Go on.”

“Well,” Rebel said, dragging out the word and tilting her head. “It’s actually a door. There’s a crawl space thingy and if you go through there it takes you to that room. I saw it on the house pictures but nobody else seemed to, so I thought it’d be okay to check it out for my show.”

“Your show? Why do you have pictures of the house?”

“Well, I don’t have them. I saw them during the meeting this morning. They were talking about ‘external shots.’ That means outside videos.”

Realization clicked into place at light speed—Maverick. Rebel. Now that Lucky connected the dots, she couldn’t unsee it. They had the same eyes and a similar smile. “You must be the young but very talented intern Maverick told me about.”

Rebel nodded enthusiastically. “I get to be the intern instead of going to summer camp in Massachusetts.”

“So, then you must know that part of being an intern means telling your team where you are and not wandering off. I’m pretty sure they’re looking for you right now.”

“I didn’t wander. It sounds bad when you say it like that.” Rebel shrugged, beginning to resemble a flower in mid-wilt, drooping and gloomy. “I asked Georgia if we could go see the red door together and she said no, that I should wait in the gazebo, so I did that and then I got bored. I was working, not wandering.”

“Ah, Shortcake, you might be too much for me.” Lucky smiled gently. “Come on, let’s go put them out of their misery.”

In one of the front rooms, Lucky and Rebel peeked around the curtains to spy on the adults through the window. They all stood by the van, no doubt panicked out of their minds. “Okay, Shortcake. We’re gonna play it cool. They’re mad but you’re fine so we’re going to try distracting them, okay?”

“Oh, okay,” Rebel said, brightening.

“Be happy. Excited. Jubilant. Follow my lead.” Lucky put her sunglasses on before opening the front door and calling out, “Hey, you’ll never guess who I found safe and sound inside the house.”

Rebel helped by yelling “Hi, Dad!” and waving. “I met Lucky! You’re right, she’s really nice!”

“Did any of you know there was a secret room in the library? Because she did!”

“And there’s a ghost! Lucky said so!”

She stared at Rebel. “Whoa, whoa, I never said anything about a ghost.”

“You said ‘Casper.’ He’s a ghost.”

Man, this kid was quick. “Again, I never said ghost. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Rebel giggled. “My grandma says that to me too.”

“I bet she does.” She grinned.

By then, Maverick had reached the top of the porch. “Lucky.” He breathed her name as if it were an enraptured, thankful prayer.

Meeting him felt like the thrill of a lifetime. Hearing him say her name like that threatened to send her gasping into the afterlife. So strange. So bizarre. So dangerously against her nature that she felt a little lightheaded from the emerging dynamic.

But his grateful smile vanished as his gaze drifted from her to Rebel. His entire body deflated with relief-tinged disappointment. She’d seen that look dozens of times. Rebel was safe. She wasn’t hurt. Still, ten minutes might as well have been an eternity.

Maverick asked, “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

The situation was worse than Lucky had initially thought. Rebel had turned on airplane mode. Once reconnected, an avalanche of messages pinged one after another.

Rebel shrugged. “I didn’t want my video to get messed up.”

Maverick’s expression slid into a passive mask, but she read the tension in his eyes with ease. A speechless parent who mastered self-control out of sheer determination to be better.

“Not cool, little miss.” A young woman, presumably Georgia, stood next to Maverick. She was only a little bit taller than Rebel, with golden skin, bone-straight black hair, sharp features, and dark eyes that dominated her face. She crossed her arms while glowering. “Rule number one?”

Rebel mumbled, “We don’t go no contact.”

“No radio silence. No airplane mode. And number two?”

“Answer when called and always call for backup.”

“Oh, so you do know what you’re not supposed to do.”

“Sorry, Georgia.”

Stephen said, “Chase, why don’t you and Georgia go inside? We’ll be in shortly.”

Chase guided the still-brooding Georgia toward the open front door. Average height and stocky, his immaculately styled curly red hair matched the freckles on his fair-skinned face. As he passed, he said to Rebel, “Thanks for the heart attack. Been wondering what one of those felt like.”

“Sorry, Chase.”

Stephen clasped his hands together and addressed Rebel directly. “You obviously have to stay here but are hereby being symbolically sent home with no pay.” He gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze on his way inside. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Watching them each talk to Rebel was fascinating. Under the hurt and disappointment, Lucky realized they were taking Rebel seriously. Being an intern wasn’t some fun, honorary title because Maverick couldn’t find a sitter. She really was a part of their team, held to the same standards as everyone else. Progressive discipline and all.

She respected them for it instantly. Anyone who saw fit to treat tiny humans as such were all right in her book.

“Lucky, can you give us a minute?” Maverick asked.

“Of course.” She turned to Rebel, saying, “See you on the other side, Shortcake.”