The whimpering ended swiftly, in midcry, and then the quiet of the night returned as if never disrupted. Billie stood gaping at the blank wall of the hedge, disbelieving all she had heard. Where was the sound of doors and windows being thrown wide in alarm? Surely everyone had heard that noise . . . hadn’t they? Hadn’t she? She took a numbed step toward the hedge. “Bruiser?” she half-whispered even before she realized what she was doing. Her voice seemed impossibly loud. But then, so did the furtive whispers and snickering that answered.

Her breath caught. In her mind’s eye, she could almost see through the hedge to the mob of elfin figures crouched in the yard beyond, as they looked up as one from the dog’s body and craned toward her, and their eyes . . .

She turned and ran for the porch and felt as if she were wading in molasses, moving impossibly slow and fighting for her balance and losing a slipper but not worrying to recover it. You’ll make it, she panted, you’re only a few feet away and the door is still unlocked and besides, they’ve got to go around the fence . . .

Chain links popped. One after another, quickly, like ripping metal fabric.

She reached for the doorknob even as she chanced a backward glance. The hedge was moving.

She turned the knob, or tried to. It didn’t budge. With both hands she frantically grabbed at the knob and twisted and threw her weight against the wood and this time it gave. The force sent Bart crashing back down the hallway and Del screamed as she plunged inside.

“Are you nuts?” Bart was incredulous. “You went outside?”

“Close the door!” Billie cried even as she launched herself at it and slammed it shut and pushed in the unbelievably feeble lock button. “Get a chair from the kitchen,” she said frantically. “We’ve got to block the door. Who knows how many there are—”

“How many what?” Bart tried to get past her to see out the door window. “Did you see them? We tried to tell you!”

“I didn’t see anyone!” she snapped. “I just heard someone—I think they killed Bruiser and they were coming this way.” Her eyes widened. “The windows! Are they all locked?!”

Del, still clutching his garlic bread, put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mom. They can’t get in. They’ve got to be invited.”

“Wha—dammit, Del, would you two stop with the monsters? This is serious! Get to the phone and call Charlie at home. He’s closer than the county sheriff. . . .”

Bart nodded. “I’ll call Chris.”

“You’ll do no such thing—”

“Both of you, shut up!” Del held a shaking finger to his lips. “Listen!”