Chapter 7Haunting, amber shapes from candles glowing inside ornamentally-cut paper bags jumped across the otherwise dark pathway that lead up to the Tuestad's house. A steeply gabled roof with a turret on one corner gave their house a Gothic look. It sat alone at the end of the street, which came to an abrupt end just passed the house. There was no curb here. The road simply ended and emptied into a wooded lot a few yards beyond the Tuestad's immaculate yard. The deep woods cast a perfect setting behind the house for a séance. As Zofia and Dorian strode up the walk strains from a Celtic harp and other medieval instruments streamed through the screen door in muted notes.
“How soothing,” she said.
“Intriguing. Like back home, isn't it?” Dorian observed wistfully.
“Mmmm,” Zofia agreed as s
