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Hazel rattled the gate.
“Don’t do that,” her little brother scolded. “The bees’ll come.”
“The Beezle?” She mocked back. “Is that a monster?”
“No,” he replied frowning. “The bees in those boxes. They’ll sting us.”
Hazel peered at the cubes standing in the yard. Maybe they were hives. Maybe someone dressed in white coveralls and a mask collected honey every morning. She’d never seen them. Her whole life the place stood empty.
“You better just hush up or the Beezle’s gonna get you!”
*
In the windowless basement of the abandoned mansion, as if manifested by a magic word, something stirred.
