From A Thief in the House of Memory:
They rounded the final curve and the big house sprang fully into view. Light glinted off the glass of the conservatory. The newly budding maples shhhhhed in the breeze. There was always wind up here.
Steeple Hall. The words were carved in stone above the entranceway with a shamrock on either side. Sunny broke into a run. Her yellow boots made galumphing noise on the wide stone pathway.
She waited for him by the door, wiggling like a puppy back from a walk. Dec dug out the long brass key. The tumblers turned. Sunny pushed open the door.
He smelled it before he saw it, a disturbing scent on the dry, old air. The frosted-glass vestibule door was slightly ajar. Sunny slithered out of her boots, pushed open the door, and stopped dead.
"Uh-oh," she said.
A glass-paneled bookcase had fallen. The spacious front hallway was lined on the eastern wall with bookcases, ten feet tall and the three feet wide. One of those cases lay before them. Books were strewn everywhere. A bronze bust of Plato lay at Sunny's feet. She stepped back into her brother's arms.
Then they saw the hand.