We turn on the flashlights from our phones and step over the withered threshold, entering what I believe was once considered the kitchen.

I'm not sure how I know this because there aren't any appliances, but there's an enormous fireplace taking up the entire length of one wall, the mantle above it still holding various jars and containers. A large, rectangular table sits cockeyed off to the side, the surface long hidden under a layer of dirt and time. The chairs, if there ever were any, are nowhere in sight.

"This is intense," Sully whispers. I wait for Nick's belittling comeback, but there isn't one.

My eyes won't stop moving, they're sucking in the scene like a sponge. Paint yellowed with age dangles from the walls in thin strips, while mold and mildew devour the naked wood left behind, and the skeleton of an old chandelier droops from the ceiling.

Not that I'm looking for them, but a new worry enters my mind. "What if we're not the only ones here?"

Hartley flashes her light in my direction and I raise my hand to block eyes. "Of course we're the only ones here. Why wouldn't we be?"

A chill crawls over me for the first time in weeks. "What if there's a homeless person living here or something? Maybe that's why the door was open?"

"Does it look like anyone's living here?" Nick runs an index finger along the edge of the table, leaving a trench of grime in its wake. He cringes and swipes his hand along the side of his expensive-looking shorts. "I'll bet no one's been here in years."

But the graffiti scrawled across some of the walls leaves me unconvinced. "But what if—"

"Hello!" he calls out, interrupting me. Darkness swallows his voice, leaving behind a muffled echo. I strain my ears listening for a response that doesn't come. Nick gives me a smirk. "Satisfied?"

I brush an invisible cobweb from my shirt, determined to hide the fact that his cockiness bothers me, even though it does.

My cover-up doesn't escape Hartley's attention. "Don't be an ass," she scolds her boyfriend. With a huff of indifference, he turns away, obviously in no mood to apologize.

The light from Sully's phone sweeps across the room, casting shadows along the crumbling surfaces. "How did you find out about this place?"

Hartley walks around the corner of the table to investigate the containers above the fireplace. She pinches her phone between her chin and chest and turns a jar over in her hands before setting it back on the mantle. "I've known about it for a while and thought it'd be the perfect location to investigate." Her eyes gleam in the dim glow of our flashlights. "And now that I have a magic potion, I figured why not?"

"Well, what are we standing around here for then?" Nick demands. He waves a hand in the air, shooing away the dust particles that are dancing in the stream of his light. "Let's check out the rest of this dump."

A musty stench devours us as we walk deeper into the residence. The house is mostly empty with the exception of some broken furniture; a three-legged table leaning against one wall; a Victorian-style chair with the seat missing against another. An enormous staircase across from what must be the front door curves its way to the second floor, while frames void of pictures hang crooked against the peeling paint.

"Do you really think this house has been empty since the 1800s?" Sully says. He flashes his light across a black and white image that's lying tattered on the floor. "I'm not sure anything would have survived from when Marshall and Anna lived here."

The hair on my arms rises at the mention of their names. I know that once upon a time this was the Buchanan's home but I don't particularly want to announce it. I don't want their spirits—if there's such a thing in the first place—to overhear and assume we want to see them. Even if we were forced to open our third eyes.

Hartley pulls her hair into a thick ponytail, securing it with a band from around her wrist. "According to my sources, there've been lots residents since Anna, but none of them stayed longer than a few years. Maybe her ghost scared them away?" she suggests after a pause. "Sometimes they're possessive that way."

I want to ask how she knows this but I'm afraid of the answer and decide some things are better left to the unknown.

My hands are trembling. I distract myself by trying to imagine what the inside looked like back in the day, with its magnificent floor-to-ceiling windows and fancy spiral staircase and Anna Buchanan waltzing around with her romantic southern drawl and princess-style dresses. If it weren't so creepy, the place would be beautiful. Even in its neglected state.

"Do you think the stairs are safe?" Sully asks.

"There's only one way to find out." With Hartley leading the way, we climb the steps to the second floor where I'm guessing Anna's bedroom used to be. I take the opportunity to peer over the banister and shine my light over the cobweb-infested foyer below, wishing it were bright enough to take some pictures. Why in the world someone decided to walk out the door one day and never look back is beyond me. It seems selfish that this house has been sitting vacant for so long while who knows how many people have probably dreamed of owning it.

"Did you guys hear that?" Hartley thrusts her arm to the side to keep us from moving forward and I run face-first into Sully's back.

He looks over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

I rub my nose and look up at him. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" His face morphs into a smile.

"Will you two stop flirting back there?" Hartley hisses. "There's something here. I can feel it."

Sully smiles again before turning around. I hold my breath and lean forward, not exactly sure what I'm listening for. But then I hear it—a scratching noise coming from somewhere down the hall. I wonder if they can hear my heart pounding the same way I can. It feels much louder and more insistent than whatever's lurking in the dark.

I hug myself with one arm and flash my light in front of me, counting the number of open doors that lie ahead. Three rooms line each side of the hallway, but the one on the left at the very end is closed. Even though we're far away, I already dread walking toward it, not wanting to know what might be hiding on the other side. We tiptoe toward door number one and pause when the scratching resumes.

Sully says what I'm still thinking. "What if there is someone here?"

Hartley lets out a shaky breath, the light from her phone illuminating her slender face. "There's no one here. No one living anyway," she adds like an afterthought.

I'm not sure if it's intended to, but her declaration doesn't calm my nerves.

"Nick," she says, "go make sure it's safe."

His eyes flare in her direction. "Why me?"

"Because you won the All-State Wrestling Championship! If there is someone here, you can take them down in, like, two seconds flat."

"Fuck that, Sullivan can check. This wasn't my idea."

Our gazes move to Sully, who's looking more than a little uncomfortable. "It wasn't my idea either," he finally says. "But whatever."

"By all means." Hartley gestures grandly to the empty space in front of her.

Sully glances back at me and his shoulders sag. His expression reminds me of a little kid who's just been served a dare. I want to save him from whatever potential monster is waiting up ahead, but not enough to volunteer. As he shuffles past Nick, he shines his light in his face. "If I call for help you better come running."

"You got it." He doesn't sound convincing.

Beads of sweat collect along my hairline as the darkness gobbles Sully up. He shines his poor excuse of a light into the first room, his posture teetering at an odd angle as if he's ready to race down the stairs. But instead of bolting in the opposite direction, he disappears beyond the doorway.

My breath quickens. "Sully ..?"

"He's fine," Hartley insists. But her expression betrays her statement.

The scratching noise continues. Both Hartley and Nick remain fixated, anxiety pouring off of them in waves, while I fiddle with the hem of my shorts wishing we were anywhere but there. It takes forever before Sully finally reappears.

He looks relieved. "It's just a branch rubbing against a broken window."

A long breath leaks from my lungs like a deflating balloon.

"Come on." He waves us closer. "You guys need to check this out."

We creep forward, the three of us huddled tight together until our beams of light connect with Sully's in the center of the empty bedroom. My eyes dart to every corner, searching for movement that shouldn't be there, but I'm distracted by the scratch scratch scratching at the window.

There's no furniture in the room, but the floor is covered in brownish-yellow newspapers, some dating back to the early 1920s. They're so old I can't believe they're not dust.

"This is lame as fuck," Nick snaps. "We should have done something else."

Hartley nudges him with her shoulder. "We just got here. The party's still getting started."

A lecherous smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. "A party? Is that what you're looking for?" He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in for a long kiss, the slurping noise making me turn to the floor in disgust.

"Hey." I lift my eyes and find Sully watching me. "Let's get out of here," he whispers.

A quick glance at my friend confirms she'll be busy for a while. I follow Sully out the same door we just walked through, leaving behind the sound of Hartley giggling idiotically. We cross the hall and enter the second bedroom. Unlike the first, there's a bed in this one, minus a mattress. The frame is barely holding the antique pieces together. Cobwebs connect the ceiling to the walls and the window is covered with a thin sheet of plywood. Sully pulls at one corner trying to peek outside. It's nailed shut.

I get the strange sensation that someone is watching us. I turn around, expecting to find Hartley and Nick, but their lights are still flashing in the room across the hall. "Sully, do you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

The words swell in my throat. "Like there's someone here."

He lets out a loud breath. "Oh, no. Not you too."

"I'm serious." Hairs prickle the back of my neck as I move my light around the room. "I don't think we're alone."

The air thickens. Judging by the look on Sully's face I think he can feel a presence too, but doesn't want to admit it out loud. My muscles tense as I wait for something to happen.

"What are you guys doing?" I jump at the sound of Hartley's voice. She and Nick are in the doorway, studying us closely. She doesn't give me time to answer. "Let's look for the master bedroom. It's supposed to be at the end of the hall."

Of course, it is. "The one with the closed door?"

"Probably." She grins. "Come on."

I take a deep breath and follow them down the hallway which stretches like a runway in front of us. My nerves are shot at this point and I keep my gaze steady on the floor, not wanting to risk peeking inside the open rooms. Unease churns in my stomach as I imagine ghosts from long ago watching our every movement. It doesn't feel evil exactly, just unwanted. Like someone—or something—doesn't like us being here. And who can blame them? I wouldn't be happy if thrill-seekers broke into my house either.

Finally, we're standing in front of the closed door.

"Who wants to open it?" Hartley's gaze travels over each of us and then she shakes her head. "I should have known. Some brave men you are," she says to Nick and Sully.

Panic clutches at my insides, twisting and tangling until I'm one giant knot. I cling to Sully's arm like my life depends on it. From the corner of my eye, I see him looking at me, but I'm too freaked out to care.

"Alright," she says. "Let's do this."

I bury my face in Sully's sleeve and press into him tighter, wishing there was some way he could absorb my entire body into his. The door creaks open excruciatingly slow.

"Oh my God." Hartley gasps. "Gwen, open your eyes!"

"I don't want to!"

"But you have to. You won't believe this!"

Before I can respond, a soft breath caresses my forehead. "It's okay," Sully whispers, his muscles relaxing in my grip. "I'll keep you safe."

I let out a tortured groan before allowing my eyelids to flutter open and the second I do I have to blink. Cell phone lights flash wildly in front of me, illuminating a room that appears untouched by time. The paint is pale pink and pristine as it shines from the four walls, and not even one scuff marks the dark hardwood floor. A giant wooden canopy bed sits against the center of the right wall and a matching vanity with an oval mirror is situated across from it, a delicate chair pulled out inviting its owner to have a seat.

"Holy shit." Hartley gasps. "It's like we time-traveled to the past. What's that called ... retrocognition? Like, we're witnessing an imprint on the environment from hundreds of years ago!"

"That's bullshit," Nick says. "There's no such thing."

"Then how do you explain this?" Hartley gestures around us.

He doesn't answer.

We wander deeper into the bedroom, which is half the size of my entire house, and I glance into the mirror, wondering how many different faces have stared into it over the years. What do they look like now? Are they bones? Dust?

I shudder and turn away, and for the first time notice two towering windows overlooking the balcony, both glasses still intact.

My finger points all on its own, my stomach curling into a knot. "Is that where they see her?"

All eyes move to me and then the windows. "I think so," Hartley says, her voice unusually quiet.

We stand rooted in place, waiting for Anna to magically appear like some sort of desert oasis.

"Anna, are you here?" Nick asks. It's not a friendly question—it's a taunt. His eyes narrow as they find mine. "Come out, come out wherever you are. Gwen wants to play."

I shake my head, my lips parting to protest when an icy chill races down the center of my back. A scream works its way up my throat but I swallow it.

"You guys ..." Sully shifts nervously from one foot to the next. "Did it just get colder in here?"

"I thought it was me." Hartley scans the room, her face suddenly pinching. "Do you smell that?"

I don't smell anything, but apparently, I've been holding my breath. I inhale and immediately recognize the scent. "Roses," I say.

Sully gives me a funny look. "Like what Abraham used to bring to Anna?"

My thoughts drift back to the story Hartley shared. Every day they were together, Abraham would bring Anna a rose from the garden. Could that actually be what we're smelling? I sniff the air again trying to determine where the fragrance is coming from, but it seems to be everywhere, engulfing us in a cloud.

"This is a trick," Nick says, anger laced in his tone. "You set this up. Didn't you? There's no such thing as ghosts!"

Hartley's face morphs from fear into anger. "I did not! I've never been here before. Cross my heart!"

"Bullshit!"

"Bulltrue!" Her voice is louder now. "When would I have had time to, huh? I'm always with Gwen. I think she'd know if I suddenly went missing." She turns to me. "Have we not spent every single second of every single day together?"

I nod, the scent of roses growing stronger and more suffocating. I clench my fists, the urge to run overwhelming. How can they argue at a time like this?

"I don't know how you managed to—" From out of nowhere, a gust of wind rushes through the room and lifts my hair, cutting Nick off mid-sentence.

Sully grabs my elbow and steers me toward the door. "We need to go."

But Nick's already in the hallway, having pushed past the rest of us to get out first. We race after him, through the corridor, down the stairs, and out the back entrance, adrenaline forcing my feet to move faster than they ever have in my life. We dive into Nick's car and he takes off before we can close the doors, the tires spinning violently against the gravely drive.

"Oh my God," Hartley pants, her eyes wider than I've ever seen them. "I cannot believe that just happened!" She tries to laugh but it comes out a strangled whimper.

Nick swerves around the side of the house and onto the main path, heading toward the canopy of trees like a rocket racing toward space. When I turn around for one final glance, a gasp escapes my lips.

"What?" Sully twists backward to get a better look. "Holy shit!"

The car screeches to a halt, stirring up dust from the road.

On the second floor, the two unbroken windows to the left are illuminated with a golden glow that wasn't there before. It's the very room we just left, the one said to have belonged to Anna. My jaw drops as I try to understand what I'm witnessing, but nothing in my brain allows it to make sense.

I open my mouth to say this but immediately clamp it shut. Before I can get a word out, a dark silhouette appears out of nowhere, staring through one of the windows at the vast lawn below. I can't detect any features but I know it's a woman, her full gown spanning the entire frame.

"Oh, hell no," Hartley says, but her voice sounds a million miles away to my ears.

With a jolt, the car shoots forward and my head snaps back. I secure the seat belt around me, my heart pounding like it wants to break out of my chest. I peek at Sully but he's staring straight ahead, his face unusually pale in the light of the moon.

There are a million things I want to say but instead, I say nothing. And the drive back to the French Quarters is as silent as the ghost of Anna Buchanan, waiting to join her true love.