She yanked New Baxter into her room and slammed the door. Her heart hammered as she watched it eat her desk chair, discharging a pile of wood chips behind it in an excremental trail.

Oh, this was bad. This was terrible.

Not only was New Baxter like a rabid dog compared to Old Baxter—it was made not from the dreams of an innocent child but the nightmares of a rotten-souled murderer—but there was a killer on the loose, and thanks to her he was now free of fear and inhibition. If he killed again, it would be at least partly her fault. She couldn’t just throw New Baxter in a fire and be rid of it. She had to put it back from whence it had come: inside the young man’s head.

The idea frightened her. How would she find him? And when she did, what would stop him from killing her, too? She didn’t know—all she knew was that she had to try.

She pulled a fat handful of threads from New Baxter and wound them around her arm like a leash. Then she yanked it across the room and through her open window. On the ground outside was a torn piece of the young man’s shirt. She picked it up and gave it to New Baxter to sniff.

“Dinner,” she said.

The result was instantaneous: New Baxter nearly pulled Lavinia’s arm off, tugging her across the yard and then down the road by its leash. New Baxter chased the young man’s scent trail for much of the day, leading Lavinia all through town in circles, then out the other side of it. They traveled down a rural road into the middle of nowhere. Finally, just as the sun was setting, they came upon a large, isolated building: Mrs. Hennepin’s orphanage.

Smoke was pouring from the lower-floor windows. It was on fire.

Lavinia heard screams from the other side of the building. She ran around the corner, pulling New Baxter after her. Five orphans were at an upper-floor window, gasping for breath as smoke billowed around them. On the ground below stood the young man, laughing.

“What have you done!” Lavinia cried.

“This house of horrors is where I spent my formative years,” he said. “Now I’m ridding the world of nightmares, just like you.”

New Baxter strained toward the young man.

“Go get him!” Lavinia said, and dropped the leash.

New Baxter spun across the ground toward the young man—but instead of eating him, it leaped into the young man’s arms and licked his face.

“Hey there, old friend!” the young man said, laughing. “I don’t have time to play right now, but here—go fetch!”

He picked up a stick and threw it. New Baxter chased it straight into the burning building. Moments later there came an inhuman scream as New Baxter was consumed by flames.

Defenseless now, Lavinia tried to run, but the young man caught her, knocked her to the ground, and wrapped his hands around her throat.