"I want you to be honest about what you see."

"I will, hon. I promise that."

"No fucking – er, no screwing around."

"Just put your hand in mine."

Miriam reaches over and lays her hand into the woman's grip.

Nancy's hand is warm. Miriam feels cold.

They sit for a few moments. Silent. It hits Miriam suddenly – she's not seeing how this woman dies. No vision. No end game. No death. It's like the woman's a rogue agent, disconnected from the flow of fate and time, unbound by –

Nancy's fingers close like a flytrap around Miriam's hand.

"Ow, hey–" Miriam says.

The grip tightens. The woman's neck tenses until the tendons stand out. Miriam tries to pull her hand away but can't. Nancy's eyes snap open. The whites of her eyes start to bloom red from busted blood vessels. Her teeth grind so hard Miriam is afraid they might crack.

Miriam tugs her hand again, but it's like being caught in a vice – and the woman's hand is growing warmer, hotter, like it might burn her.

Blood pops from Nancy's nose. It trickles onto Miriam's hand. Pat, pat, pat. Miriam idly hopes the blood will lubricate the woman's crushing grasp and get her free. No luck.

Nancy begins to moan. Her head rolls and pivots.

Below the table, the beagle starts to bay along with her.

"Christ," Miriam says, genuinely scared. Is this about her? Is the woman having some kind of coincidental aneurysm? She puts her free palm against the table and shoves hard. The table slams into the woman's midsection, and she gasps.

The woman's fingers uncurl. Miriam jerks her hand back. The skin is red, and she can already see the bruises forming.

Nancy looks like shit. Sweat pours from her brow. She licks her lips and pulls out a small handkerchief to mop up the blood. Her eyes have gone totally red.

Miriam speaks in a small voice. "Miss Nancy? Are you okay?"

"What are you?" she hisses.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Something dead is inside you. A deep, black, shriveled thing, and it's crying out like a lost child for its mother. You are the hand of death. You are its mechanism. I can hear the wheels turning, the pulleys pulling." Nancy fishes into her shirt and withdraws the two twenties. She crumples the money into little boulders and pitches them back at Miriam. "Take it. I don't want your blood money. Death is following you, and you've got some monster – some presence – inside your heart and mind. I don't want any part of it. Get out of here."

"Wait," Miriam pleads. "Wait! No, help me, help me understand, tell me how to stop it, tell me how to close it all off and–"

"Get out of here!" Miss Nancy screams. The beagle joins her yowl with his own.

Miriam staggers to her feet and backs toward the door.

"Please–"

"Go."

Her shoulders hit the door, and she backs out, dizzy.