Anything known is not mine.

I turned on my heel and marched out the door, not seeing anyone in the room as I left. By the time I got down the front steps, my eyes were burning and stinging, the tears behind them flowing freely. I wiped my eyes on my dress sleeve and breathed deeply, trying to make the tears stop. When I got to the street by the front of the house, I turned around to look toward the front doors again, thinking that maybe Michael had changed his mind at the last minute, and would run out to join me.

When he didn't come, I sighed, and then dematerialized to the train station that would take me home. It occurred to me that I didn't actually have to go since Michael wasn't coming, but it had been a while since I'd seen Mama, and my mansion needed me. I got on the train with no trouble, and ended up sitting alone, which was both a gift and a curse. The good part was that I didn't have to worry about watching myself around strange men. Just because Michael wasn't here didn't mean that his rules about behavior didn't stick to my brain like peanut butter to a knife.

The bad part was that sitting alone meant all I could think about was the many scenarios that could be going on at home. Each image that ran through my brain was more horrible then the one before it.

After what seemed like an eternity, the train finally stopped at the station, and I got off and dematerialized home.

I landed on the grounds and my initial impression was that nothing seemed amiss. There was nothing taken out of, or added to the house. Feeling content, I walked jovially to the front doors, my two valises and two suitcases swinging on my arms. It seemed like Daddy had kept his end of the bargain and that all my worries had been for nothing.

Once inside, I saw that Mama was there to greet me. She looked wonderful and as she held out her arms to embrace me, I realized how much I had missed her.

"It's wonderful to have you back home, Chrissy-Lily," she said.

I grinned up at her. "I'm glad to be at home. It looks like the roof is still on, and it doesn't seem like anything unusual happened."

Gently, she pushed me away from herself, and for a second, I saw worry and uncertainty in her brown eyes. Then, as quickly as it had come, it melted away, and she smiled again.

"Yes honey, nothing exciting or out of the ordinary happened while you were gone. Now tell me: what did Granny and Granddaddy have to say?"

I grinned and shook my head. "They still think I'm too skinny," I informed her. "I ate enough pecan pie and peach cobbler to keep me content for years."

She laughed. "That's what they used to say to me too, but eventually they figured out that the skinniness was natural, and that it just gave them an excuse to feed me more food."

Then, she looked behind me. I knew who she was looking for. "Michael didn't come with me, Mama. He and Jack decided that now would be the best time to try and get their house back since they're both home now."

Mama rolled her eyes. "Men. What fools they are. Michael and Jack aren't going to get the house back until the final Malrooney dies. That's the long and the short of it. And from what I've heard, the final Malrooney is still a young man. He won't be dying anytime soon."

"What happens when the last Malrooney dies?" I was curious.

"Well, the stories say that after the death of the last Malrooney, Frank will disappear into the depths of hell where he belongs, and he will leave a key to where the deed is hidden."

I looked hard at my mother. "So are you saying that I was abandoned so that Michael and Jack could conduct a fruitless mission?"

She looked at me sorrowfully. "I'm afraid so darlin'."

Then, she brightened up. "Why don't you go 'round and see everyone. They've all missed you, especially your Daddy."

I nodded and Mama and I parted. I walked through each individual room. I have to admit that it was nice to see everyone, and that everyone seemed happy. Aunt Vickie was throwing another party, and when I got to the attic, there wasn't anyone there. That is, I thought there wasn't. until I heard a steady thumping that sounded like it was coming from towards the end of the attic. I proceeded to walk through, and I immediately was struck by horror and revulsion. Every few minutes, little fake heads would pop up from the bric-a-brac and scream. That had never been there before. Then, finally, I saw the most horrible thing of all: a figure standing towards the end of the attic that was supposed to resemble a woman in a bridal costume. Her dress and veil were made out of a transparent, raincoat-type material, and the hair that was attached to the headdress was snow white and stuck out at odd angles. The figure itself was green with glowing yellow eyes and it beckoned to me with a dying candle. In the chest of the figure, I located the sound of the thumping. It was supposed to be a heart, thumping in misery for all eternity.

Through my rage and shock, I couldn't help but laugh a little. What a pathetic concept. Though it was strange to find such a repulsive figure in my attic, I resolved to go back to my own room and try to forget I saw it. After all, it was probably just something my parents had picked up on their travels. It would be moved or thrown out eventually.

The weeks went by, and I noticed nothing else unusual, and I even forgot about the figure in the attic, until one day I heard voices in the foyer. They didn't sound like the voices of anyone we knew, so I put my book down and went to investigate.

There is part of a hallway above the foyer where one can stand and see without being seen themselves. I saw a group of people talking to themselves. The group was rather sizeable: An African-American man and three others I took to be his wife, son and daughter. There was another couple, an aristocratic man who reminded me so much of my father, and his female companion, and still one more, though I couldn't make them out very well. The whole group was trespassing on private property. Perhaps they didn't know. I would have to be as discreet and kind as possible. I stepped out into the hallway above so that the group could hear and see me.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

The young boy nudged his father and said "Dad, is this part of the show?"

The man patted his boy on the head. "I've never seen it before. Usually, the ride starts with the Ghost Host saying 'Welcome, foolish mortals,' and all that, but maybe they've added a pre-show."

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me," I said again. "Who are all of you?"

The man who reminded me of Daddy stepped forward. "Miss, I'm Edward Gracey, this is my wife Elizabeth, and our friends, the Evers family, Jim, Sara, Megan, and Michael."

For a moment, I forgot I was upset. Edward Gracey? The only Edward Gracey I knew of was Grandpa George's brother, my great-uncle Eddy, but he was so busy being a diplomat to foreign countries that we hardly ever saw him.

"And this," Michael said, proffering something towards me, "Is Madame Leota."

Finally, I saw the other person in the group, and I wondered how in the world she'd gotten back here. Without meaning to, I let out a scream, and tried to run away. But in my eagerness, I tripped over my skirt and fell tail over teakettle down the stairs, landing on the hardwood floor of the foyer with a loud crack.

Immediately, Edward's worried face was hovering above mine. "Miss? Are you all right? Do you need any sort of medical attention? What's your name?"

I sat up feeling dazed and woozy. Instead of looking at Edward, I looked at the face in the crystal ball that Michael held in his hands.

"Daddy fired you years ago. Why do you torment us? Why can't you just leave us be?" I began to cry, and Elizabeth and Sara both put comforting hands on my shoulders while Edward picked me up. I looked up at him, sniffling. "My name is Christine Lillian O'Malley Gracey."

Leota looked at me, then at Edward, who was looking stunned."I knew it," she told him looking grave. "I knew Leona was here."