“It’s why we were eager for you to get as much sleep as you could,” Andrew said. “When people feel overwhelmed, they start to panic. And panicking leads to mistakes. And mistakes can cost you everything.”
Nora said, “Whatever it takes, try to go into tonight feeling like you’re in control. Take a long bath. Cook a good dinner. Nothing too heavy—but enough to sustain you. Read a book or watch some television.”
“Are you a deep sleeper?” Ray asked.
Margot couldn’t find her tongue to answer but shook her head slightly.
“That’s fine, then,” he said. “You can nap if you think you’re able. The bells are loud. They’re hard to sleep through.”
“And that’s stage two,” Kant said. “When the bells ring.”
Margot turned her head slightly. The old bronze bell that hung beside the archway seemed innocuous. When she’d first arrived, she’d imagined it hadn’t rung for years. Even now, with the bloodred sunset running through the kitchen window and painting streaks of crimson across the metal, it looked like just another faded relic in the kitchen.
“They’ll give you some warning,” Kant continued. “You’ll have at least three or four minutes.”
Nora said, “You can keep the lights on until the bells, but once you hear them, you have to turn them out.”
“And quickly,” Ray added. “This is another part that goes against instinct. You’ll feel like you want the lights on. But it just draws them in faster.”
“Like moths to a flame.” Andrew raised his mug to sip from it. His fingers, tightly clenched around the ceramic, seemed to tremble, but he covered the movement before Margot could be sure. “Except, in this case, the moths aren’t the victims.”
“Small lights are okay,” Nora said. “You’ll have to use something if you move through the house. Flashlights covered with fabric or a heavily shaded candle can work. But keep it small, and snuff it out as soon as you don’t need it any longer.”
Ray, still leaning against the counter, shifted his weight. “Try not to make noise. Or move too much. Once you hear the bells, you’ll want to make the house seem completely dead, like no one’s home.”
“Does that work?” Margot asked.
“We think so.” He shrugged. “You see, they don’t come into the house normally. In most cases, they’ll walk the hill, maybe enter the yard and stare up at the house. It’s only when the curse gets very bad that they enter your home.”
“It’s why I thought it was safe to visit my sister.” There was deep regret in Kant’s voice. “I believed you’d stay indoors. And I believed that would be enough.”