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The lights came on in the winter white room. Shower. Tub. Sink. Nothing was capable of moaning in the night.

“See,” he reassured himself. “No one here.”

“Mahhh?”

Jon spun toward the claw-footed tub, expecting to see… What?

No…who.

The caldron was empty.

It didn’t matter. He crossed to its side and collapsed to his knees. Pressing his ear to the porcelain, Jon listened intently. He snaked one hand over the side, reaching for the drain. Toward the pipes that traveled down through the sub-floor, between the joists, along a conduit to something he couldn’t see, only hear. Though he knelt there a long time, afraid to move, the call did not come again.