She turned her head and saw him come off the last step not more than twenty feet away. Somehow, she found her feet again and limped to the doorway, shooting pains making her scream with every step. She felt a moment of pure panic (what if it doesn’t open, what if I can’t get out) before the door swung open and she stumbled out into the wind, hearing the woman shout from the railing above as she did.

It was still snowing but she could see the Jeep sitting just beyond the steps, half-buried in the snowdrifts. The brutally cold air cleared her head, and she slammed the door closed behind her just as he reached the front hall. She got to the steps and heard the door open behind her. In a spurt of pure adrenaline, she stumbled and hopped down them to the ground and limped frantically towards the Jeep, her breath coming in gasps, the back of her neck prickling in anticipation of the hand that would surely come crashing down at any second, her gasps turning to half sobs in her throat.

As she reached the door, she risked one look back and he was leaping down the porch steps. Only have a second now, grab the handle, pull…

The door would not open. Oh my God, it’s locked or stuck and I don’t have a prayer anymore.

She spun around and he grabbed her by the throat with his left hand, throwing her up against the Jeep with brutal force. He held the knife in his mouth. Her legs buckled beneath her and she sagged downward, his strong grip holding her up and cutting off her air. She made a harsh choking sound, and then he spoke, his words coming to her muffled around the blade of the knife.

“Gonna cut you, Mother,” he said, leaning forward, drops of spittle and blood flying from his mouth to land on her cheeks and forehead. His eyes were vacant and stared through her, as if focusing on something far away.

Mother? she thought, and then everything disappeared in a thin, gray fog of unconsciousness.

Death, so close he can taste it. Death that tastes like smoke—bitter and dusty. Filling his mouth, his throat like a wriggling snake. It is their deaths he tastes, and his own for what he has done. He knows the Dark Eyes will not stop until they end his life, and it does not matter to them if he has his revenge on her or not. But it matters to him, oh yes. It matters to him.