“I don’t know,” Howard Young said.

“You’re lying. Dr. Fifer found out something, and for that, you fired him. What did he find out?”

The old man just covered his face in his gnarled, veiny hands.

“You claim to want to end all these deaths!” Carolyn said, her voice rising. “But you withhold information! I need to know everything! We may have only a few minutes! But if I could discover who was behind this, maybe we could make some kind of appeal-”

“It doesn’t understand logic,” Howard Young murmured into his hands. “It cannot be reasoned with.”

“Listen to me!” Carolyn shouted. She stooped down beside the chair so that her eyes were level with Howard Young’s. “You must tell me everything! Or else we all will die here in this house. One by one. Including you.”

“I welcome death,” the old man said. “But it will save for me for last. It will make me watch everyone I love die before me. That’s the way it has been for eighty years.”

“We can end it!” Carolyn insisted. “But first you must tell me everything you know!”

Their eyes held.

Then came the banging on the door.

Chapter Thirty-three

Paula stood at the door of the parlor, listening. The house had once again fallen silent. When the screams had come from the direction of the study, Douglas had rushed out, assuming Carolyn was in danger. His passion to help the woman he loved was understandable-but his departure had left them without a rifle. Paula knew that bullets wouldn’t do much to defend them from an undead man. She’d seen that firsthand in the kitchen. But still she wished she were holding that shiny metal in her hands. It provided some comfort, at least.

Karen came up beside her.

“Baby, maybe you ought to come away from the doors,” she said, placing her hand on Paula’s shoulder.

Paula turned to her. In just the last couple of hours, their world had turned upside down, not once, but several times. She had woken up this morning not knowing what had happened in the room. Then she had learned that Douglas and Carolyn had survived, and for a few blessed moments she had thought them free of the terrors that had ruled their lives for so long. Then, wonder of wonders, Karen had shown up-and everything had indeed seemed right and good and hopeful in Paula’s world.

Then all hell had broken loose. Dean was dead. His children were traumatized. And a maniac was trying to kill them all.

“Karen,” Paula said. “You might have a chance to survive. End it with me again. Renounce what you said earlier. Take it all back. Then walk out of this house. It won’t touch you if you aren’t connected to the family.”

She smiled wryly. “I’m still adjusting to finding out about this madness. But from what I sense, it-whatever it is-would know I didn’t mean it. It would know I still loved you. Sorry, Paula. We’re in this together.” She took her hand. “As we should have been from the beginning.”

Paula took her in her arms. It was painful to move; the wound in her side was terribly sore, though she thought they’d stanched the bleeding. Her eyes moved across the room and caught Linda’s. Her sister-in-law gave her a small smile. Paula’s heart broke. She still had Karen, but Linda had lost her love and her soul mate.

The children remained clinging to their mother. Their tears had stopped for the moment, and they were silent. Paula thought if they were all to die, they should at least try to save Zac and Callie.

But another part of her felt hopeless. What would they save them for? They would inherit the curse.

Unless they could somehow end it this day.

Was it possible? Carolyn seemed to still think it was. She seemed to believe that Uncle Howard possessed some information that could be key. Paula wanted to believe she was right. But right now, hope was a fragile option.

Her eyes moved over to Chelsea. The girl was sitting on the sofa with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around herself. She was still wearing her flimsy pink nightgown, and she was barefoot. Paula’s heart broke for her, too, even if she’d been party to a monstrous hoax the night before. She’d found her father’s mutilated body. The whereabouts of her brother were unknown. Chelsea was terrified. Alone among the people in the room, she had no one to console her.

From the foyer came a footstep.

“Douglas?” Paula whispered.

It had to be Douglas.

She and Karen took a step backward from the door. It was locked. If it was Douglas, he’d call to them to open it.

But the doorknob just turned. Whoever turned it grew angry when discovering it was locked. The doorknob began to rattle.

It wasn’t Douglas.

Suddenly fists were beating against the door.

“Oh God!” Chelsea cried out. The children, too, were crying again.

“Paula,” Karen said. “Look! The window!”

Paula turned. A window at the far side of the parlor was open. The frame had opened out. It would be easy to step through it and out onto the backyard.

“It might be a trick,” Paula said.

The banging continued against the parlor door.

“No,” Linda cried, suddenly. “It’s no trick! Look!”

Just beyond the window, standing in the bright sunshine on the grassy lawn, was Beatrice. Her long dark hair and filmy white dress blew in the wind. She was beckoning to them.

“Can we trust her?” Karen asked.

Paula wasn’t sure. Carolyn had seemed to think her spirit was benevolent. But she couldn’t know for sure.

Just then the banging on the door grew in greater intensity, and at last a fist came smashing through the heavy wood. Chelsea let out a scream.

There was no more time for delay. “Take the children out the window,” Paula shouted to Linda. “Go with Beatrice!”

Immediately Linda was pushing the children across the room. Chelsea ran in that direction, too.

“Let the children go first, Chelsea!” Paula commanded.

The girl relented, shaking her hands in frustration. Paula watched as first Callie and then Zac stepped over the windowsill and out onto the lawn. Linda followed, just as the great oak door buckled inward, broken off its hinges, crashing onto the floor.

And standing there was David Cooke, his chest and neck riddled with gaping dry holes made from gunshots. In his hands he held a length of rope.

“Go!” Paula shouted, backing up herself toward the window.

Chelsea was scrambling to get out, but in her terror, she slipped, falling backward on her butt. In that second, David Cooke lunged, grabbing hold of Karen by her right arm. He tackled her onto the ground, quickly and easily wrapping the rope around her neck. He began to strangle her. Karen’s eyes bulged, her mouth open as she tried to breathe. Her small hands clutched at the rope around her neck but to no avail.

Paula jumped onto the maniac’s back and began pummeling him with her fists.

“Help me!” she called over to Chelsea, who was once again attempting to step out of the window.

“Help me get him off of her!” Paula screamed. “Please!”

Chelsea looked back. For a second she hesitated. One foot was outside the window.

Paula was struggling now to push David Cooke off Karen. Her girlfriend’s face was turning blue.

“Help me!” she called again to Chelsea.

The girl lifted her leg back over the sill and ran to her cousin. Both of them shoved. Paula willed every muscle in her body to come to her aid. She let loose with a primal scream and pushed as hard as she could. With Chelsea pushing beside her, they were able to move the brute. It was just the slightest movement, but it was enough for his grip to loosen on the rope, enabling Karen to gulp down some air.

“Once more!” Paula shouted, and they pushed the creature again. This time he moved a fraction of an inch more, and Karen, small and agile, was able to wiggle out from under him.