The two of them faced each other, and he realized suddenly that the reason he was so apprehensive about meeting his family again was because he felt responsible for their deaths. It was his fault they had been killed. If he had not stopped seeing Donna, if he had not dumped her, she would not have taken this revenge on him. Hell, if he hadn’t gotten involved with her in the first place, if he had not started seeing her, he would not have had to stop seeing her. No matter which way he sliced it, it was his fault that his parents, his brother, and his sisters had been murdered, and that was why he had been unwilling to talk to them, to meet them, why he had been so uncomfortable even seeing them again. He didn’t know if this version of his family knew what had happened to them or what would happen to them, but he was afraid that they’d confront him about it, that they’d blame him, and while he could handle supernatural snakes and recurring ghosts and book-faces, he did not think he would be able to handle that.

“Talk to them,” Carole urged.

Norton cleared his throat, and though all of those years, all of those decades had gone by, he felt like a little boy again, nervous and afraid. “I can’t,” he said.

“You have to.”

“I can’t.”

“Have you seen Billings?” she asked.

He shook his head. Where was the hired hand? he wondered.

“He’s dead,” she said, and he heard a tremor of fear in her voice. “She had him killed.”

“She?”

“Donna.”

Norton felt the cold wash over him.

“Talk to your parents,” Carole said. “Talk to your family.”

She left then, not floating away, not fading into nothingness, but somehow… dispersing, her form devolving into separate elements and components that were absorbed into the floor, the walls, the ceiling, changing color, changing shape, blending in and disappearing.

He looked around, then stared at the spot where she’d been. Was she real? Or was she a part of the House?

Or both?

He didn’t know, and he supposed in the end it didn’t really matter. He believed her, she’d spoken the truth, and the important thing was that her message had gotten across. As much as he dreaded the idea, as much as he didn’t want to do it, he knew that he had to meet with his family, he had to talk to them. About what, he didn’t know. But he supposed that would work itself out.

As if on cue, he heard the sound of voices coming from up ahead. He recognized Darren’s laugh, Estelle’s whine. He moved forward, walking slowly, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants and trying desperately to think of what he would say to them.