Kelly couldn't sleep.

  It wasn't unusual. Sleep had been complicated since Mom died. Some nights she crashed hard, exhausted from crying—or pretending not to. Other nights, her brain refused to shut off, cycling through memories and what-ifs and the crushing weight of everything that had changed.

  Tonight was different. She kept hearing whispers.

  She sat up in bed, listening. The penthouse was quiet; her Dad was out saving the world, Zebra and Zoar had retired to their chambers hours ago, and the city noise from far below was just white noise at this point. But the whispers persisted. Soft. Insistent. Coming from somewhere in the apartment.

  Kelly threw off her covers and shivered. The night air had a bite to it, even inside, and the heating system was still adjusting after the dragon's rampage earlier. Losing most of the windows on the southern side of the penthouse didn’t help… letting in the night wind dozens of stories up. She grabbed her mother’s old Stanford hoodie from the chair—still faintly scented with her perfume even after six months—and pulled it on over her pajamas. The fabric was worn soft, the cuffs frayed. She'd probably wear it until it fell apart.

  Thick socks next. Her feet were always cold now. Had been since they moved to New York. California girl problems, Mom would have said with that teasing smile. The thought made Kelly's chest tight.

  She padded out of her room, following the whispers through the debris-strewn hallway. The dragon had done a number on the pce: shattered vases, toppled furniture, scorch marks on the walls. Zebra and Zoar had started cleaning up the worst of it, but plenty remained. Kelly picked her way carefully, avoiding broken gss and splintered wood.

  Her stomach growled; she’d skipped dinner, too wound up after everything with Vera today. The strange girl who'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere, promising adventure. The first friend she had made outside of school but looking for something hidden in the penthouse. Between her and the raging dragon, Kelly couldn’t remember the st time she slept properly.

  Kelly detoured into the kitchen. The marble countertops gleamed even in the dim light from the city outside. She opened the massive refrigerator and grabbed an apple and some cheese. Started assembling a quick snack while the whispers continued in the background.

  "...listening? Can you hear me? Please, if you can hear me..."

  Kelly froze, apple halfway to her mouth. The voice was clearer here. More insistent. And definitely coming from the museum floor.

  She abandoned her snack on the counter and followed the sound.

  It led her to the same corner of the museum, to the antique oil mp on the shelf. She picked her way over the broken gss left over from the dragon's tirade as she approached. Dark bck brass, ornate, gold filigree, probably worth a fortune. And definitely the source of the whispers she no longer could deny, or ignore.

  She approached slowly. The whispers resolved into words as she got closer.

  "...listening? Can you hear me? Please, if you can hear me..."

  "Hello?" Kelly's voice came out smaller than she intended.

  The whispers stopped. Then, clearer now, a voice spoke directly into her head.

  "Oh, thank the stars. You can hear me. Finally, someone can hear me."

  Kelly stepped back. "Who, what are you?"

  "I'm trapped. In the mp. Please, I need your help."

  “Vera?” she whispered. Even as she said the name, she knew it wasn’t right. This voice was different. Older. Male. And coming from inside her skull in a way that made her teeth ache.

  "No. Not Vera. Though I know about her. I know what she's been doing to you."

  Kelly's stomach dropped. "Doing to me? What do you mean?"

  "Your friend. The treasure hunter. She's not what she seems. She's not even alive, Kelly. She's a ghost. A spirit bound to this world, trapped by unfinished business."

  Kelly's mind raced back through the day. The way Vera had appeared so suddenly. The way she'd known about hidden passages, about her father's collection. The way her hand had felt when they'd shaken…present, but not quite solid. Not quite real.

  "A ghost," Kelly repeated slowly. "She's a ghost."

  "And she's using you. Maniputing you to get what she wants."

  "The treasure. The Gentleman Bandits' loot."

  "Not just any treasure. Something specific. Something powerful. And she's been lying about why she wants it."

  Kelly looked at the mp. It sat under a gss dispy case, the kind museums used for valuable artifacts. Sealed. Untouchable.

  "If you're trapped in there," she said slowly, "and you're warning me about Vera... what do you get out of it?"

  A pause. Then, with what sounded like approval: "Smart girl. Your father raised you well."

  "Answer the question."

  "I get the satisfaction of preventing someone from being used. Of stopping Vera from taking advantage of a grieving teenager who doesn't know what she's gotten into." The voice softened. "I know what it's like to be trapped, Kelly. To be used. I don't want that for you."

  It sounded sincere. It sounded kind. But Kelly had learned in the st six months that sincerity and kindness didn't always mean truth.The hoodie suddenly felt too tight around her throat. She pulled at the colr, trying to breathe normally. Her mom had worn this hoodie all the time. Had kissed Kelly goodbye, wearing it before heading out for groceries. The st normal memory before everything shattered.

  "Can you..." Kelly's voice cracked. She cleared her throat, tried again. "Can you bring people back? From the dead?"

  The silence stretched. Then, gently: "No, child. I'm sorry. That's beyond any power I possess. Beyond any power that should exist."

  "But you're in a mp. Like... like a genie. Genies grant wishes. Three wishes, right? That's how it works?"

  "That's a story humans tell. The reality is more complicated. And more limited. I can't undo death, Kelly. No one can. I'm truly sorry."

  Kelly's eyes burned. She pressed her palms against them, willing herself not to cry. Not now. Not in front of this thing, whatever it was.

  "Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

  "I know it hurts. I know you want her back. But some doors, once closed, can't be reopened. The best we can do is keep living. Keep moving forward. Even when it feels impossible."

  Kelly nodded, not trusting her voice. She wrapped her arms around herself, the hoodie soft and familiar and utterly inadequate against the cold emptiness inside her.

  "How do I know you're not lying?" she finally asked. "About Vera, about any of this?"

  "I can prove it. The thing Vera wants it's not in the basement. It's not hidden in some forgotten corner. It's upstairs. In the ballroom. And if you find it, you'll understand exactly what she's been after all along."

  "The ballroom is on the third floor. That's Dad's private space."

  "It's your home too. You have every right to be there. And you deserve to know the truth."

  Kelly bit her lip. Dad had told her to stay out of certain areas, not because they were forbidden exactly, but because he used them for work sometimes. Business meetings. Private calls. The ballroom was one of those spaces… hadn't been used in years, since her dad wasn't exactly known for throwing vish parties.

  But this was about Vera. About whether her new friend was really her friend, or just another person using her.

  "What am I looking for?" Kelly asked.

  "A golden railway spike. Buried under the floorboards near the center of the room. Vera's been trying to get you to find it for her, but she doesn't want you to know what it really is."

  "What is it really?"

  "Find it first. Then I'll expin. Trust needs to be earned, after all."

  Kelly stared at the mp for a long moment. At the gss case protecting it. At the ornate brass that probably hid something ancient and dangerous and way over her head.

  "Okay," she said. "I'll look. But if you're lying to me…"

  "I'm not. Go. Before your father returns. And Kelly?" The voice grew warmer. "Thank you for listening. Not many people would."

  She left the sitting room and climbed the stairs to the third floor. The ballroom took up most of this level, a ridiculous, beautiful space with high ceilings and chandeliers and windows that looked out over Central Park. Her dad used it maybe twice… ever. The rest of the time, it just sat empty, a monument to excess, sheets covering the furniture.

  Kelly flipped on the lights. The chandeliers bzed, throwing everything into sharp relief. Hardwood floors polished to a mirror shine. Ornate molding along the walls. A space designed for parties and dancing, and people in fancy clothes pretending their problems didn't exist.

  "Center of the room," the voice reminded her. "The floorboards there are older than the rest. Original to the building."

  Kelly walked to the middle of the ballroom. Knelt down. Ran her hands over the wood, feeling for... what? Seams? Loose boards? She had no idea what she was doing.

  "There. Three boards over from where you are. They're fitted tight, but there's a gap if you look closely."

  She looked. He was right, there was a slight variation in the wood grain, a pce where the boards didn't quite match the pattern around them.

  "How am I supposed to get them up? I don't have a crowbar or—"

  "In the closet near the east wall. Your father keeps tools there. Second shelf."

  Kelly found the closet, found the tools. Grabbed a fthead screwdriver and a small pry bar that looked like it might work. Returned to the center of the room and wedged the screwdriver into the gap.

  The wood resisted. She pushed harder, felt something give, and heard a crack that made her wince. If Dad asked about this ter, she'd have to expin. Somehow.

  But she needed to know. Needed to understand what Vera really wanted.

  The first board came up with a splintering protest. Kelly set it aside and started on the next one. This one was easier; once the first was gone, the others had more room to move. She worked methodically, carefully, creating a hole in the pristine floor about two feet square.

  Underneath was darkness. Old wood and dust and the smell of decay.

  "Deeper," the voice urged. "Reach down. It's there."

  Kelly hesitated. This felt wrong. Felt like crossing a line she couldn't uncross. But she'd come this far.

  She reached into the hole.

  Her fingers touched fabric first, old, rotting, disintegrating at her touch. Then something hard beneath it. Cold metal. She wrapped her hand around it and pulled.

  The golden railway spike gleamed even in the dim light from the hole. About eight inches long, heavy, with ornate designs etched into its surface. Not just decorative, the patterns looked deliberate. Purposeful. Like writing in a nguage she didn't recognize.

  "There," the voice said with satisfaction. "Now you see. That's what she wanted. That's what all of this has been about."

  "What is it?" Kelly turned the spike over in her hands. "What does it do?"

  "It's a key. A focus. Something that can channel and amplify power. In the right hands, or the wrong ones, it could open doors that should stay closed."

  "And Vera wants this? Why?"

  "Because she's not just trying to pass on, Kelly. She's trying to escape. To break free of whatever's been holding her here. And this spike? This could give her the power to do it. But the cost..." The voice trailed off ominously. "Let's just say there's a reason it was hidden."

  Kelly's hands trembled. She looked at the spike, at the hole in the floor, at the destruction she'd caused.

  "You knew exactly where this was," she said slowly. "How?"

  "I've been here a long time. I see things. Hear things. Learn things."

  "That's not an answer."

  "It's the only answer I can give right now. But Kelly, you need to keep that spike away from Vera. Don't let her convince you to give it to her. No matter what she says, no matter what she promises."

  "What should I do with it?"

  "Keep it safe. Hidden. The kind of power that resides in that gold can’t be in just anyone’s hands."

  Kelly started to respond, but footsteps on the stairs cut her off.

  "Miss Kelly?" Zebra's voice echoed up from below. "Are you up here? I heard noises and… oh my lord."

  The maid appeared in the doorway and stopped dead. Her eyes went from Kelly to the hole in the floor to the spike in Kelly's hands."What on earth are you doing?" Zebra's voice pitched up an octave. "Your father is going to worry. Kelly, what is that?"

  Kelly looked down at the golden spike. At the evidence of her destruction that was scattered around her. At Zebra's horrified expression.

  "There's a ghost," Kelly blurted. "A girl named Vera…”

  "You tore up the ballroom floor!" Zebra moved closer, staring at the damage. "This is… Kelly, this is serious. Why would you…"

  "There's a ghost," Kelly blurted. "A girl named Vera. She's been trying to get me to find this." She held up the spike. "And there's something in the mp downstairs that told me she was lying. That she was using me. I had to know the truth."

  Zebra's expression shifted from horror to concern. "Honey, are you feeling alright? Have you been sleeping? Because grief can make people…"

  "I'm not crazy. And I'm not grief-hallucinating or whatever you think is happening." Kelly stood up, still clutching the spike. "There are things in this apartment. Supernatural things. And they've both been trying to use me for something, and I don't know who to trust, but I had to do something."

  The maid studied her for a long moment. Then, quietly: "Your father needs to know about this."

  "He's on a job. Underground." Kelly tried putting some of the wood back over the hole. “Besides, after the mess the dragon made, no one would notice a little more wreckage.”

  "A dragon." Zebra's voice was ft. "And now this." She pulled out her phone. "I’ve been with your father quite some time, young dy, but this? This is... this is beyond my pay grade, Miss Kelly."

  Kelly wanted to argue. Wanted to say she could handle this herself. But standing in the destroyed ballroom, holding a mysterious golden spike, being maniputed by forces she didn't understand, maybe Zebra was right.

  Maybe this was beyond all of them.

  "Don't tell him about me," the voice whispered in her head. "Not yet. Let him think you figured it out on your own. Trust me, Kelly. Please."

  But Kelly was done trusting mysterious voices.

  "There's something else," she said to Zebra. "Something in the mp downstairs. It's been talking to me. Told me where to find this."

  Zebra's expression didn't change. Just pulled up a number on her phone and hit call.

  "Mr. Hunter? It's Zebra. I'm sorry to disturb you, but we have a situation at home. It's Kelly. I suppose you should call once you get this.” Zebra looked around the room. “No one’s hurt, so there is no need to panic, but… It’s concerning.”

  She hung up and looked at Kelly with something between sympathy and exhaustion.

  "We will have to wait to hear back from your father. Until then, how about we go downstairs, you tell me everything, and we figure out what exactly we're dealing with?"

  Kelly nodded. She took one st look at the hole in the floor, at the evidence of how far she'd been willing to go for answers.

  The spike felt heavier now—not physically, but metaphysically. It buzzed in her grip, a faint vibration running up her arm, as if it carried weight beyond mere metal and gold.

  She followed Zebra down the stairs, away from the destruction, toward whatever came next.

  Behind them, in the sitting room, the mp sat silent under its gss case.

  Waiting.