I walked the house in the quiet night, checking all the lamps, making sure the nightlights were plugged in and softly glowing. The background hum of the generator soothed my nerves.

“Mommy!”

Poking my head into Carina’s room, I saw her sitting cross-legged on her bed in her favorite pink pajamas. “Time for bed,” I whispered.

She pointed to the closet. I stepped into the room to look. The space was dark, the battery-powered light—the one her father had stuck to one of the shelves less than a month earlier—dead. My heart surged.

“It’s okay,” I said, trying to reassure her as I reassured myself. “Just don’t go in the closet until I replace the batteries.”

“What if they get in the house?”

“The windows are closed. They can’t get in.”

“What if they do?”

“They won’t.” I moved toward her bed, and she scooted back to climb under the covers.

When she was all tucked in, she looked up at me with wide eyes.

“When they got in, Daddy had to leave.” Her chin wobbled. “I don’t want to leave!”

“You won’t have to. That’s why I check the lights every night. They only like the dark.”

“It’s dark under my bed,” she said, her logic impeccable.

“That’s true. But if there are any under there, that’s where they’ll have to stay. It’s too bright out here for them.”

“Check?”

I didn’t want to. Knowing what was under there would just make me worry. But I got down on my knees anyway and pretended to peer under the bed.

“All clear,” I said as I got to my feet. “Time to sleep, all right?”

“Okay.” She snuggled in under the covers, satisfied. If only it were that easy for me. I gave her a quick kiss, helped her adjust her sparkly pink sleep mask, and left the room, leaving the door open so the light from the hallway would keep her safe. Passing Brent’s room, I noticed the lumpy blankets on the bed and came to a quick stop. My heart quickened again as I rushed inside.

“Brent?”

“Shh.” A little hiss issued from the corner of the room. I turned to see a fort of blankets stretched over the desk. When I yanked them away, my pulse bitter with adrenaline, the little boy looked up at me from the kneehole, an innocent smile twisting his face.

“What are you doing? You know you’re not supposed to create dark spaces!”

He just kept smiling at me. My blood ran cold at the familiar expression.

“Come out of there.”

“No.”

I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him from the shadows. He should’ve cried out. He

should’ve tried to twist away. But he just stood there. I took his head and pawed through his hair until I saw it, tucked behind his left ear: a tiny bulb of illumination and wings, quivering with fury as it was exposed to the light.

“Mommy?”

I whirled to see Carina standing in the doorway. Her polyester pajamas clung to her legs with static.

“Go back to bed.” My throat was full of sand and despair.

“Does Brent have to leave now?”