“You’d be surprised,” she said lighting the final candle.

“I don’t think so,” a man in a velour tracksuit said. The dining room of a Victorian house still fighting to evoke prestige flickered with the dancing lights of thirteen candles. “I’m only here because my Nona told me to come. I don’t brook with all this-“ the man twirled his hand is a dismissive gesture, “nonsense.”

A fey smile crept across the woman’s face. “I’ve heard that before.”

The next couple hours the surrounding houses didn’t notice the eldritch screams or swirling vortex of clouds over the Drasvlin House. The statues in the front changed faces as creeping vines slithered through the yard. Still, no one noticed.