CHAPTER 28: THE SISTER TALK
"Start talking."
Sam's eyes hadn't left his face. The kitchen was quiet except for the coffee maker's judgment-free humming — even it seemed to sense the gravity of the moment.
Logan set down his mug.
"Where do you want me to start?"
"The wreath." Sam leaned forward. "Last night. It followed Marcus's head every time he turned. Like it was tracking him."
"It was."
"The rocking chair at the Peterson dinner. It didn't just rock — it slammed against the wall. Objects don't do that."
"No. They don't."
"The coffee maker." She gestured at the machine on the counter. "It talks, Logan. It has opinions about people's caffeine intake. That's not normal appliance behavior."
The coffee maker's light blinked once. Not helpful.
"And the fork," Sam continued. "At that first big dinner, when the guest was about to see the TV change channels on its own. A fork fell off the table at exactly the right moment to distract her." She shook her head. "I've been living with ghosts for months. I know what ghost activity looks like. This is different. This is deliberate. This is..." She paused, searching for words. "This is you."
Logan was quiet for a long moment.
"How much do I tell her?"
"Enough to satisfy. Not enough to explain."
"Yes," he said finally. "It's me."
Sam's breath caught. Whatever she'd expected him to say, actual confirmation wasn't it.
"You can move things?"
"Some things. Small things, mostly. Objects in the house."
"Since when?"
"Since I got here." He met her eyes. "I don't know why. Something about this place — the ghost energy, maybe. The history. I started feeling it a few days after I arrived. Like I could... reach out and touch things without using my hands."
"Reach out and—" Sam stood up, paced to the window, turned back. "You're telling me you developed telekinesis?"
"I don't know what to call it. But yes. I can nudge things. Make them move."
"The coffee maker?"
"That's... more complicated." He chose his words carefully. "Some objects in this house have absorbed enough energy over the years that they've developed... personalities. I figured out how to help them express that."
"You gave the coffee maker a personality?"
"I helped it find the one it already had."
Sam stared at him. Then she laughed — a sharp, incredulous sound.
"Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?"
"You can see ghosts, Sam. Your husband makes breakfast for dead people every morning. Is this really that much weirder?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Sat back down.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because the full truth would destroy everything you think you know about me."
"Because I didn't understand it myself," Logan said. "I still don't, really. It's been trial and error. Mostly error." He thought about the Peterson disaster. "Very messy error."
"The reunion dinner."
"Yeah. I tried to do too much at once. It... didn't work."
"The family asked for a refund."
"I know."
Sam was quiet, processing. The coffee maker gurgled sympathetically.
"So the things that keep happening around here — the doors that close on their own, the objects that fall at convenient moments, the general weirdness—"
"Some of it's ghosts. Some of it's the house. And some of it..." He spread his hands. "Is me learning how this works."
"And you didn't think I should know?"
"I thought I should figure it out first. Before I scared you with something I couldn't explain."
"Logan." Sam's voice was tired now, not angry. "We share a house with eight dead people. One of them has an arrow through his neck. One of them is a Viking. You can't scare me."
"I can try."
She punched his arm. Hard.
"Ow—"
"Next time you develop telekinesis, LEAD with that." But she was almost smiling. "God. Okay. Object-moving powers. Ghost-sensing. Talking appliances." She rubbed her temples. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"I'm not your brother. I'm a stranger wearing his face. I have a game system in my head that tracks comedy points. I know how everyone in this house is going to die, including the ones who haven't died yet."
"Not that I can think of."
Sam studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded.
"Okay. I believe you. Or at least I believe you believe it." She stood. "But Logan — no more surprises. If something weird happens, you tell me. If you figure out something new, you tell me. We're partners in this haunted-house-turned-business thing. That means no secrets."
"No secrets."
The lie tasted familiar.
Sam walked to the door, then paused.
"Can you make the coffee maker stop judging Jay's caffeine intake? It's giving him a complex."
"I'll talk to it."
"You'll talk to... you know what? I'm going to go process this in a hot bath. Don't animate anything while I'm gone."
She left.
Logan sat alone in the kitchen, the weight of partial truth heavy on his shoulders.
[STATUS: PARTIAL TRUTH ACCEPTED. SAM KNOWS ABOUT OBJECT ANIMATION. REMAINING SECRETS: SYSTEM, CORPOREALITY, VISIBILITY, TRANSMIGRATION, META-KNOWLEDGE.]
[ASSESSMENT: BOUGHT TIME. NOT FOREVER.]
The coffee maker blinked.
"Decaf?" it offered.
"Not now."
"Stress. Is bad. For you."
"I'm aware."
His phone buzzed. Email notification from an address he didn't recognize.
From: [email protected] To: [email protected] (CC: logan) Subject: HAYNES — I FOUND SOMETHING
Sam — I found something about Alberta Haynes. You need to see this. Can I come by this weekend?
The coffee maker hummed.
The investigation was accelerating.