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The Grinner moved closer, its painted smile widening. It opened its mouth and spoke in Zinnia’s voice. “I want to stay.”

Zinnia spun around. “I didn’t say that.”

“The House doesn’t care what you said.” Grabbing the Grinner by the throat, I shoved it back into the shadows. It hissed and retreated, but I could still hear it whispering in the dark, practicing her voice. “It cares what it can prove you said. And the Grinners are very good at making recordings.”

“What was she looking for?” Zinnia turned back to me, her hands clenched into fists.

“A way to keep you out.” Leaning back, I crossed my arms. “Dahlia discovered that the House had selected you as Evangeline Vale’s last living descendant. She knew what that meant. So she made a deal. She’d take your place as the temporary vessel if the House agreed to leave you alone until it was ready to complete the original contract.”

“What original contract?”

“The one Evangeline signed when she created this place.” Pulling another file from the drawer, I opened it to reveal a single page written in faded ink. The paper was older than the building, older than the city, and it smelled like smoke and blood. “Evangeline Vale made a bargain with the accumulated hunger of every audience that had ever watched someone suffer for entertainment. She wanted power. Control. The ability to turn cruelty into currency. And the entity that answered her gave her exactly what she asked for.”

“In exchange for what?”

“In exchange for a Keeper. Someone to feed it. Someone to bring it people and make them want to stay.” Tapping the clause at the bottom, I kept my voice flat. “Evangeline was the first Keeper. But the contract says the House can claim any direct descendant of the original bloodline if they willingly perform a witnessed act of submission with a bound Freak.”

Zinnia’s breath caught. “Malachi.”

“Malachi.” Closing the file, I set it aside. “He recognized you the moment you walked through the front door. He knew what you were. And he used your desperation to trap you into a performance that would accelerate the House’s timeline.”

Behind us, something scraped against the floor.

I turned and saw the Crawling Ushers emerging from beneath the shelves. Three of them, their bodies bent at unnatural angles, their white gloves pristine despite the filth they moved through. They were collecting the scattered photographs and contracts, organizing the evidence, preparing the archive for whatever the House had planned next.

One of them picked up the photograph of Zinnia on the stage and held it up to the light, studying it with eyeless attention.

“Why?” Zinnia said, her voice tight.

“Because he’s been planning something.” Standing, I moved to the glass case near the far wall and pulled out a small black ledger. Inside the case, I could see other objects: a lock of hair tied with red thread, a bloodstained handkerchief, a silver ring that looked like the one Malachi had given Zinnia in another life. “Malachi’s been using Rook’s real name for months. Calling him Rook instead of Hound. He’s been altering his own contracts. And he’s been asking me questions about how the House turns promises into ownership.”

“What kind of questions?”

“The kind that suggests he’s looking for a loophole.” Opening the ledger, I found the page I wanted and turned it toward her. The text was written in multiple hands, as if different people had contributed to the same entry. “The House can claim anyone who makes a witnessed promise and then fulfills it. But it can’t claim someone who gives something freely without asking for anything in return.”

“A gift.”

“Exactly—a gift.” Snapping the ledger shut, I tossed it onto the table. “Malachi thinks he can turn the sacrifice into a gift and take the debt onto himself. But he can’t do that if you don’t understand what you’re agreeing to.”

“Rook already told me that.”

“Rook told you part of it.” Circling the table, I stopped in front of her. “But he didn’t tell you the rest.”

“What rest?”

“The part where Malachi knew you in another life. The part where he betrayed you for power and got himself bound to this place as punishment. The part where the House has been waiting for you to come back so it can finish what Evangeline started.”

Zinnia stared at me, her hands clenched into fists. “You’re lying.”

“I’m really not.” Pulling another photograph from the file, I held it up. The image showed a young woman in an early-1900s dress standing beside a man whose face had been deliberately scratched out. But I could see the tattoos on his hands. The same tattoos Malachi wore now. “This is you. Or it was you. Before the House. Before Malachi became the Devil. Before Evangeline made her bargain.”

“That’s not possible.”

“The House doesn’t care about possible. It cares about patterns.” Setting the photograph down, I leaned closer. “You and Malachi have been caught in the same cycle for over a century. He betrays you. You die. The House waits. And then you come back, and it starts all over again.”

A door opened in the far corner of the archive.

The Mouth-Bearer stepped through, his chest exposed, the second mouth sewn into his sternum already moving. It whispered something I couldn’t hear, but the contracts on the shelves began to rustle in response, their pages turning to specific entries.