She was momentarily overcome, convinced that would be the last time she’d ever see him. Jeanette moved closer to her, touching her shoulder in support.

Then Carolyn summoned all her strength and took a deep breath. She turned her eyes once again to Howard Young. “Let us begin,” she said. “We have work to do.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

Douglas moved stealthily down the hall, holding the rifle in front of him. He’d loaded up with more ammunition in the library, knowing it might take several shots to bring David Cooke down. He could hear the commotion in the foyer. Leaning his back up against the wall, he peered around the corner.

Ryan was crumpled at the other side of the room. David Cooke stood in the middle of the floor. He had clearly just hurled Ryan against the wall. And from somewhere above-or below, or maybe from everywhere-came Malcolm’s laughter. The child was delighted with the show.

The zombie was now beginning to lumber toward Ryan once again. Douglas lifted the rifle and looked through the finder. He steadied his grip, focused his aim. David Cooke stopped walking, seeming to sense he was being watched. He began to turn. Douglas pulled the trigger.

Cooke took a direct hit just above his left ear. A chunk of his head tore away, exposing gray brain matter. But once again, there was no blood.

But still the zombie walked. He turned, facing Douglas now. Douglas fired again. This time the bullet tore into Cooke’s neck. He staggered, but kept approaching. Douglas fired a third time. This time, blowing yet another hole into the undead man’s chest, Douglas accomplished what he had set out to do. David Cooke fell over backward with a loud thud, his mutilated head cracking against the marble floor. Malcolm’s laughter abruptly ended.

Douglas rushed over to Ryan, who was woozy and confused from the thrashing he’d endured.

“Get up!” Douglas ordered. “Get up before he revives!”

Ryan looked at him. “Did you…did you just save my life?”

“Yeah,” Douglas said sullenly. “I just did.”

He helped his cousin to his feet.

“Hurry up,” Douglas said. “I’ll take you to the library.”

“Is it safe there?”

“It’s not safe anywhere until we can unplug the power that keeps that zombie walking,” Douglas said.

Even as he said the words, he saw Cooke stirring. The creature was trying to stand. Its right arm flexed as it tried to leverage its body off the floor.

“Hurry!” Douglas urged, pushing Ryan along.

They were crossing the floor of the foyer when Cooke sat up. Ryan screamed.

“Move!” Douglas shouted, and they began to run.

Cooke was on his feet in seconds. With his long legs and extraordinary speed, he was able to sprint across the foyer, blocking their access to the corridor that led to the library. The zombie growled like a bear, its dead eyes fixed on them.

“Quick!” Douglas yelled, grabbing Ryan’s arm. “In here!”

He shoved him into the dining room, then turned to aim his rifle at Cooke from the double doors. He fired. He missed. His hands were trembling. He fired again. He barely nicked Cooke’s shoulder. The zombie was no more than two feet away from them.

“Goddamn you!” Douglas screamed and fired directly into the creature’s chest.

The impact was enough to stop Cooke’s approach, but he didn’t fall. He swayed for a moment, then regained his balance. Reaching out with a sudden move, he grabbed the rifle from Douglas’s hands and snapped it in half.

Ryan screamed. Behind Douglas, he slammed the doors of the dining room closed, leaving his cousin outside. Douglas spun around, banging on the doors.

“Let me in, Ryan!” he called. “Let me in.”

But it was too late.

The cold hands of the zombie were around his throat.

Chapter Forty

Inside the dining room, Ryan could hear the maniac banging his cousin’s head against the doors. He cowered under the table.

That’s when he realized he wasn’t alone in the room.

From under the table, he saw the bare feet of a woman wearing a long white dress. She moved across the room almost as if she were gliding. She reached the doors and made a motion to open them.

“No!” Ryan cried, leaping out from under the table. “Don’t let him in here!”

But Beatrice paid him no mind. She pulled open the doors, and Douglas tumbled inside. David Cooke, upon seeing her, backed off.

Douglas was on the floor, blood gushing from his nose. He wasn’t moving.

Ryan stood over at him, once again in the zombie’s sights.

And Beatrice was gone.

David Cooke smiled. His teeth were broken; his head was partially blown off. But he seemed absolutely delighted.

“No, please!” Ryan begged. “You killed Douglas! Isn’t that enough?”

The zombie lunged.

Ryan had only a second to realize what was happening. David Cooke had grabbed him around the waist and was throwing him down onto the dining table. The laughter had returned. Suddenly, from the kitchen beyond, a shower of knives descended, each of them piercing Ryan’s body, pinning him to the table. Ryan screamed from pain and terror. Then David Cooke very gracefully removed a large serving platter from a hutch against the wall. Placing it on the table, he plucked one of the large knives out of Ryan’s shoulder. Then, as if he were a master chef-or the family patriarch on Thanks-giving-he began slicing off pieces of Ryan’s flesh. Tenderly he placed each piece on the platter. Blood flowed in rivers across the table and gushed onto the carpet below. Malcolm laughed as Ryan screamed, watching David Cooke slice his body into pieces. First his arms were defleshed, then his legs. The pain was excruciating, but somehow Ryan stayed conscious. Only when the knife was turned to his throat and began the process of delicately cutting out his Adam’s apple did his screams finally cease.

Chapter Forty-one

In the library, Carolyn and the others heard the screams and were certain that both Ryan and Douglas were dead. Holding back tears, Carolyn summoned the strength to call on Beatrice to help them.

They were standing in a circle. At first Jeanette had seemed resistant to grasp her uncle’s hand, but Carolyn had insisted they needed to make contact, to use their combined energy to summon Beatrice. Once the four of them were linked, Carolyn cleared her mind the way Diana had taught her to do. She struggled to keep thoughts of Douglas-which could only invoke despair, grief, and defeat-far from her mind.

“Beatrice Swan,” Carolyn said. “I know now why you came to me. I understand what you have been asking me to do. Help me now to accomplish this task.”

There was nothing. Carolyn feared for a moment that Beatrice had abandoned them, if perhaps they were too late.

But then it began to thunder. Rain hit against the windows in a sudden downpour. The day grew ominously dark. Occasional lightning lit up the room.

“Beatrice,” Carolyn called. “Help us to reunite you with your son.”

The door to the library blew open. A gust of damp air filled the room.

No longer was Malcolm laughing. He was crying. His anguished wails filled the house.

Gently Carolyn broke contact with the circle. “Wait here,” she whispered. “I will go out there. Beatrice will protect me.”

“Are you certain?” Jeanette asked.

Carolyn gave her a small smile. “No. I am not certain. If I don’t come back, try the circle again. Ask Beatrice to help you. At this point, it’s all we have.” She indicated the second rifle, leaning up against the wall. “That will slow David down, but not kill him. Use it as you need to.”

“You should take it with you,” Michael suggested.

Carolyn shook her head. “I’ve got to trust Beatrice.”

Slowly she stepped out into the hall. The air in the house was increasingly cold and damp. Carolyn shuddered once, hugging herself. Then she made her way to the foyer.