Notes: This one was requested by an anon review a few months back; apologies for taking so long, and I hope it was worth the wait…

As he looked out into the darkness of the night that had fallen on Cunningham Island, Mike was beginning to think that he and his bandmates would probably have better chances trying to leave despite the fog rather than stay for the night. Simply put, he didn't trust anyone here, save for Ellie Reynolds—the butler, that writer, and the medium were giving him the chills. And it took a lot to give him chills.

He had tried convincing the butler that he and his friends would be alright, but the man had been most insistent that he and his bandmates stay the night.

This sinister insistence was enough to get Mike contemplating an escape in the middle of the night, despite the storm gathering. The rain had already begun by the time he had changed into his nightclothes.

"Lightning or sinister happenings?" he murmured aloud. "Which is the lesser of the two evils?"

He was so lost in his thoughts, he took someone grabbing at his arm to jolt him back to reality—giving out a yell of fright in the process, which caused the other person to cry out, as well.

Mike looked down to see Davy glancing back up at him in shock as the English boy clutched at the Texan's arm.

"Don't do that," they said, in unison.

Slowly, they both managed a smile as relief sunk in.

"Oh, boy…" Mike said, sighing as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "You alright there, Tiny?"

"'Course I'm alright," Davy said. "I'm just a little upset by something I heard Micky say."

"Yeah? What was that?"

"That this whole situation we're in was like something he'd seen in a movie some time ago."

"What's wrong with that?" the Texan asked.

"It was an adaptation of an Agatha Christie book."

"…Ah. And you're scared—is that it?"

"Scared? Me?" Davy scoffed. "You must be joking! What makes you think I'm scared?!"

"Well, for one thing, you're cutting off the circulation in my arm," Mike drawled, indicating how Davy was still clutching his arm.

Davy loosened his grip, but still didn't let go.

"Well…" he said at last, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Maybe I am… just a little bit…" He sighed. "What gave it away? Besides that, I mean?"

"Well, for one thing, the fact that there's a chick that you've pretty much forgotten about says a lot…"

"Oh. Yeah," Davy said. "I really did forget about Ellie. I hope she'll be alright. …I hope we'll be alright."

He and Mike both jumped as a loud thudding sound echoed from down the corridor. Nervously, they exchanged glances.

"What was that?" Davy asked.

"I dunno; if you find out, fill me in."

"…You're scared, too, aren't you?"

"Eh, well…" he said. "Let's just say that this place doesn't have the most convivial of atmospheres. But maybe we can warm the place up with a few more tunes. What do you think?"

"…I think I'd like to try our chances with this fog and try to make it back to Malibu," Davy said, flatly. "Any chance of us going through this window and making our escape in the dark of night?"

"I considered that already, believe me. And no; it's too high up, and we don't have enough bedsheets to make a ladder. Besides that, it just dawned on me that Peter would want to leave the organ we inherited behind."

"It wasn't worth coming out here for an organ," Davy sighed. "Not on a dark and stormy night like this. I just want to go home."

"On the other hand, if Babbitt locks us out for not paying the rent, there'd be no point in trying to get home," Mike pointed out.

"Oh, yeah…"

"Which is why I think taking the organ is worth it—we can sell it for rent money," the Texan added.

"That's one problem solved, anyway…" Davy said. "Assuming we make it through the night."

Mike sighed.

"We just need to calm down about that," he said. "All we got was the organ; if anyone has any nefarious plans, they'll be after the house and all the valuable stuff. And we don't have anything to do with that."

"Ellie…" Davy realized.

He took a step towards the door, as though ready to rush out and defend her, like he had so gallantly done against Princess Bettina's evil uncle. He stopped in his tracks, however, shivering with some amount of fright.

"You know, on second thoughts…" he said, walking back over to Mike and clutching his arm again. "Even if anyone was after the house, they wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything, right? I mean, not with the four of us here. We'd be witnesses to the whole thing; they're not that dumb."

"Oh, no," Mike agreed. "They'd just involve us in whatever nefarious plans they have to make sure we don't say anything."

Both he and Davy jumped as another thud echoed from down the hall again.

"That… that's just thunder, right?" Davy asked.

"Sure… inside the house," Mike said, taking a moment to find his words. "You… you know what I think, Tiny?"

"What?"

"I think Rio sounds like a great place to be right about now."

"Anywhere but here sounds like a great place to be right now, Mike!" Davy exclaimed. "I say we do what we can with the bedsheets and make a human chain to get the rest of the way down! We could probably pull it off!"

He leaned out of the window and yelped as he nearly fell through; Mike, thankfully, seized him by the shoulders and pulled him back inside.

"Let's not try that again, huh?" he asked.

Davy just nodded, and Mike shut and locked the window.

"Where are Micky and Peter, anyway?" the Texan asked.

"Last I saw of them, they were in the kitchen, trying to see if they could salvage anything to eat," Davy said. "I would've joined them, except that I don't really have much of an appetite right now…"

The English boy trailed off, jumping in alarm as the wind howled outside, rattling the windows. He shivered again, partly out of fear, and partly because the old house was unpleasantly drafty.

"That… that's just the wind," he announced, forcing a smile.

"Yeah," Mike said, with pretty much the same look on his face. "Yep, that's just the old coastal breeze, stirring things up…"

Both he and Davy threw their arms around each other again as a third thump—the loudest one so far—echoed down the corridor.

"And that i-i-isn't th-the wind," the Texan finished, stammering over his words more than he usually did.

"Mike…?"

"What?"

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

Mike didn't get a chance to answer; Micky and Peter chose that moment to return—managing to scare each other and Mike and Davy due to the unexpected, sudden crossing of paths.

In the end, Mike decided, if he had to be stuck in a creepy house for the night, there were no others he'd rather be stuck with.