Suddenly two thin arms jutted out from the mirror. Two gnarled hands, like the branches of a thorn bush, gripped Kelly around the neck.

The hands scratched and tore like a hawk’s deadly talons. Then they grabbed. And they pulled.

8. Tug of War

8

TUG OF WAR

The bathroom door flew open, slammed shut. Mitali fled. Scared to death, she left them alone. Gone, gone.

Liam stood frozen, his shoulder blades pressed hard against the wall, as the creature’s bare, gray arms—like pale, uncoiled snakes that had never seen the sun—wrapped around Kelly’s throat and dragged her toward the mirror.

Bloody Mary’s face howled in triumph,

Kelly turned to Liam, her eyes desperate, pleading. She choked out the words, “Help. Me.”

At once, Liam seemed to wake. He leaped to his sister, tightened his arms around Kelly’s waist. Liam pulled in one direction. The creature, Bloody Mary, pulled even harder. They were locked in a tug-of-war.

Liam fought till his muscles ached. His feet slid on the smooth surface of the floor. He pulled with all his strength, but he felt his grip weakening. Liam was losing hold. Kelly was now inches from the mirror, wild-eyed, frantic.

I’m losing her, Liam thought.

“Dad!” Liam cried. And desperately, foolishly, “Mom!”

His eyes seized upon a soap dish on the counter. He strained for it, grabbed it, and hurled the dish into the mirror.

A cry of shock and CRASH! The mirror spiderwebbed into a hundred shards of jagged glass. The creature lunged once more for Kelly, snatched at her necklace, ripped it from her throat. Bloody Mary pulled her prize back behind the shattered glass.

And it was over.

Liam flipped on the light. Kelly hugged him, and he held her tight. Kelly brought a hand to her neck, her chest. “Mom’s ring,” she said, panic rising in her voice. “Liam! That thing … took Mom’s ring!”

“Your face,” Liam said. Three red lines were slashed across Kelly’s face.

The next sounds they heard were Mr. Finn’s heavy boots charging up the stairs. Mitali must have found him. “What’s going on up there?!” he yelled.

They’d have some explaining to do.

9. Fire, Fire, Burning Bright

9

FIRE, FIRE, BURNING BRIGHT

Kelly’s fever started that night. “You’re burning up,” Mr. Finn said. He pressed a wet washcloth against her forehead. A phone call was made, and Mitali’s parents arrived to pick up their terrified daughter. There would be no sleepovers in the new house.

On the first day of her strange illness, Kelly slept fitfully. She tossed and turned and cried out, “No, no, no!” When awake, she worked feverishly, her black hair tangled and wet with perspiration. She didn’t want to eat, refused to talk. Instead, from her bed, she drew picture after picture—with markers, pencils, watercolors, charcoal. Kelly drew quickly, without thought or reflection, as if the images burned directly from her hand.