Titus stared at the ceiling of his room. He wanted desperately to sleep but couldn’t. Shade had retreated inside him for the evening, at least.

There was a tap on his window, followed by another. Titus ignored them, telling himself it was nothing more than a branch hitting the glass of his window. That made sense, and it was a hundred times better than what it would end up being with his luck, a vampire hanging from the roof or a ridiculous possessed tree-monster. The sharp, quick rap tapped twice more, prompting Titus to sigh before turning his head to the window.

A small, porcelain hand touched the glass. As Titus watched, its hand wound backward, like a clockwork spring, before snapping forward and tapping twice more. The creature was small, pale with a hairline crack running up its cheek to...

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