The stairs leading down onto the ballroom floor are ablaze with ghostly light when I arrive. Strains of orchestral music float up the staircase, a dark waltz that mixes with the sounds of laughter and the beating of wings. From where I stand on the stairs, I see imps flitting through the air, chasing pixies and witches on their brooms. On the dance floor, ghostly couples swirl together.

The stairs come out of the ceiling with a dusty thud, and each step creaks as I ascend. Yellow sunlight, coming through a round window that hasn’t been cleaned in far too long, illuminates crates, boxes, old furniture, discarded knickknacks, and forgotten clothes. Dress forms with sheets draped over them like simulacra ghosts peek out of the shadows.

I pause on the threshold. Moonlight fills the room through the huge glass windows, edging the plants in silver. A fountain, water trickling out of the mouth of a stone sea serpent, sits in one corner of the room, ringed with wrought-iron furniture that glows black in the dim light. The air in here is thick with moisture and heavy with floral scents. There is only one other door from this room, leading out into the cemetery, and it is padlocked. The Keeper has the only key.

Everyone has different notions of what the dead eat. Fruits and breads, sugar skulls, the souls of the living. Fairy folk are just as enigmatic, with dishes of milk and honey favored as offerings, though many of the fae creatures I’ve met prefer flesh to any dish of warm milk.

Under different circumstances, I would be more precise in my culinary efforts. But All Hallows Eve is coming up, and I don’t know what I’m dealing with. I don’t want this thing—whatever it is—wandering the House any longer than it already has.

The library stands behind an unassuming oak door in far-flung corner of the House. The brass knob is shiny and smooth from years of use—the room is a favorite among the House’s residents. Jack, the Keeper before me, tried at one point to install a television set, but something about the House’s location meant that it never worked. As a result, our primary forms of entertainment here continue to be dances and books. Books are generally easier to come by.

I’ve always quite liked the House’s cemetery. It doesn’t even seem strange to me anymore that the House has one. Of course it does. It sits on the crossroads after all. A cemetery is probably a requirement.