The sound had become so repetitive that despite its initial menace, Sineada had blocked it out with the rest of the day’s background noise. The torrential rain, the banshee-like wind, and waves of floodwater breaking against the side of the house had simply incorporated the rhythmic beating of the force below into their clockwork tattoo. When one instrument in the orchestra had fallen out, it made little difference to the cacophony.Mia was huddled in a corner next to a tiny window that looked over the neighbor’s house. Sineada couldn’t tell if she had noticed the cessation of the pounding or not. Her grandmother had once told her that if the wolf at the door was baying, you knew where it was. If it had gone quiet, it was looking for a window.“Where do you think it went?” Mia asked, as if having heard Sineada’s unasked question.“I don’t doubt for a moment it’s still down there,” Sineada sighed, again deciding the girl deserved the truth. “Or would be the moment we set foot on the ladder.”“Are you hearing anything from the spirits?”“Not since this morning,”
