Becky Bray held the knife poised above a pie, her gaze fixed on the crust. The aroma of cinnamon and something…else…filled the kitchen. Steam curled from the large pot, where a pale form stirred the contents gently. It seemed to be helping with the sauce, its movements surprisingly deft. She glanced at it briefly, then back to her work, readying herself for the first cut. A strange guest had arrived unexpectedly, but dinner needed finishing. There were guests arriving soon, after all. The pumpkins glowed warmly in the candlelight, a festive backdrop for this unusual gathering.