Was he even supposed to be here or was it all some fluke of bad timing? Because the fact remained that although Billings had obviously been expecting him when he arrived, he was the only one who hadn’t been specifically summoned.

He was the only one who hadn’t had a recent encounter with the girl.

That was at the root of his concern, and he found himself wondering if maybe some other force had led him back here, had compelled him to return home.

No, it was Kristen’s death. There was no higher power pushing him. No overall design. He’d come back simply because his sister had died and he wanted to find out what had happened to her.

Whatever the reason, though, he was here, a prisoner like the rest of them, and he felt that it was his responsibility to get them out of this. He had not mentioned The Power to anyone, and while he knew he should have come clean instantly, that time was past. It would be too awkward now, would raise too many questions. None of them seemed to have ever possessed any sort of extrasensory abilities or to suspect that he had.

Did Billings even know?

He wasn’t sure.

That might give him an advantage.

He decided to try again. If anything was going to help him get them out of here and escape, it would be The Power. If he could just get an opportunity to read Billings, to scan the House…

He took a deep breath.

Concentrated hard.

Nothing.

His head hurt, the blood pounding in his temples, and his muscles were starting to ache from the strain as his body grew rigid and relaxed, rigid and relaxed. He wiped the sweat from his face, looked upward once again, and pushed until it felt as though his eyes were going to pop from his head.

And a figure flickered into existence at the foot of his bed.

He saw the form at the bottom of his peripheral vision, and he sat up instantly, facing it full on.

Kristen.

She was older, the way she must have looked when she died, but he recognized her instantly. She was not solid, not flesh, but she was not transparent either. Instead, she seemed to be sort of… glowing. And translucent. Like a computer-generated specter in a big-budget movie.

He was suspicious of that at first, not believing that reality would hew so closely to the middle-of-the-road imaginations of anonymous film craftsmen, but then she turned her head, craned her neck, looking around as if uncertain for a second where she was, and her eyes alighted on Mark.

She smiled, her entire face lighting up.

And he knew it was her.