"Run!" I scream. "Run, run, run!" It will do no good. She won't make it. She might as well be dead already.
The truth is, Carmel and Thomas were dead people walking the moment they set foot in this house. Or was it before that? Maybe they were dead the instant they acknowledged me. That sounds more like it.
But here's the thing- a lot of people are dead long before I come into their lives- or deaths, whatever you want to call it. That doesn't mean they're gone. In my experience, there is no such thing as 'dead and gone'. You're either one or the other.
Carmel might be dead, but that's no reason to let her go. And it's no reason for me to give up.
I'm done with burying my friends. One way or another, this will end tonight.
So maybe that's why I sprint up the stairs after the Obeahman, screaming like a banshee. And maybe he senses it too, because he pauses and turns to look at me. He flashes me a monstrous smile before vanishing again. Carmel keeps running, up the steps and onto the landing, until she's dragging down the ladder from the attic. Then I'm with her, practically jumping through the trapdoor and into the musty-smelling darkness above. I don't doubt the Obeahman is still here. But for some reason, he has let us through. I'm not about to pass up an opportunity like that.
As I fumble for the light switch, the air grows cold and misty- a sure sign of ghosts. They're here. If only this damn switch would just-
Oh.
In every corner of the room, white lights flicker into life. They line the walls and the ceiling, the floor and the boxes and furniture shoved in here for storage. But they are not just lights. They're people shaped. They are people. Or rather, they are what seems to be their auras.
These are the lights of the dead of the attic.
And Cas- my Cas- is shining the brightest.
Carmel and Thomas are temporarily forgotten as he approaches me, hands outstretched. I walk forwards, mirroring him every step of the way. He stops in front of me, smiling, and there's nothing I can do except grin back. We stand still for what must be hundreds- no, thousands- of years, soundless, staring into each other's eyes. I don't care what happens next. This is all that matters.
"Are you two just going to stand there, or...?" A voice breaks through our bubble of Anna-and-Cas and we turn, startled. I recognise the voice. I turn to see what must be the ghost girl from earlier. "I mean, if you want to wait for the old creep to come back, go ahead, but I think we should get out before he kills us. Again." There's a pause. Then Cas speaks.
"Anna, this is Jestine. She's- she was- a ghost hunter."
"Not anymore, though," Jestine grumbles. "And I was never a proper one, anyway. You lot kept stealing my knife."
"Wha-" I begin, but Cas shakes his head.
"Ignore her. She's pissed off because she's dead." Jestine glares at him.
"Fair enough," I murmur. I'd probably feel similarly, if I'd been killed by the Obeahman. "But we should get out of here. I don't know how long we have."
"Hey, Anna, did you find-" Carmel, poking her head through the trapdoor, breaks off with a gasp. Please, I beg silently, don't freak out now. To her credit, she doesn't. Though her face has drained of colour, she glances around the attic and nods slightly. "Um, anyway, we should get all these people out of here." I think I underestimated her. I didn't realise Queen Bees actually had functioning brains. Or maybe Carmel's the exception to the rule.
"That's what I was about to do," I inform her. "Okay, everyone out of the attic. No more spell. You can all leave." There are murmurs, mutterings, whispers of disbelief that bounce off the walls and echo around the room. Jestine sighs.
"Look!" She says, brushing past Carmel and floating down through the trapdoor. "It's not hard." There are still a few cautious words, but then another ghost, a girl I've never seen before, walks forward and jumps through. The others look encouraged. One by one, they slide out of the darkness and into the bright sunlight that streams into the house through the open windows. Some of them laugh, some cry, and some are silent, just relieved to be free. Finally, it's just me and Cas left.
"What are we going to do with them all?" He muses. He's got a point. We can't just let a bunch of dead people wander off down the street.
"I don't know," I admit. "And there's still the Obeahman to worry about." Cas frowns.
"Where did he go, anyway?"
"He didn't go anywhere. He's always been right here. In fact, I've been waiting for you, children." Frigid air rushes down my neck. Fingers brush teasingly at my hair. No. No. Not now. Give me more time. Let me get downstairs. I'm not ready, not up here. Please, if anyone is listening, give me more time...