He looked up, over at the bed, but Daniel was gone. The girl was jumping up and down on the mattress, pointing at him and gibbering excitedly in a language he did not understand. He didn’t know whether she had beaten Daniel or he had accomplished what he’d set out to do and left on his own, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. More dolls had reached him, six or seven of them, and he lit into them, grabbing what he could and pulling, rending, severing, not knowing what he was grabbing or how many of them he was separating.

They were easier to fight off than he would have thought, and although there were occasional pinpricks and scrapes, the dolls were unable to do any serious damage to him.

They also weren’t nearly as frightening as he had been led to believe.

Paper tigers.

Several of them were partially made of paper, and he found himself wondering if all of the girl’s threats were like this, if they’d always been more illusionary than real, more psychological than physical. Perhaps the only hold she’d ever had on any of them was her ability to exploit their own fears.

No. She’d killed Kristen. And she’d probably killed Daniel.

He still had to be careful. He couldn’t underestimate her.

He destroyed all of the dolls. The girl did not jump in at any point and try to help, and Mark thought that odd. She could have attacked him while he was busy and distracted. She could probably have gained serious advantage. But she remained on the bed, jumping up and down and screaming in that strange unnatural tongue.

He tore the head off the last doll, ripped out the punch holes that had been its eyes, and stood amid the pile of dust and dirt and hair and trash. He glanced over, stared at the girl.

She was afraid of him!

The realization surprised him. He did not know why or how this had happened, did not know to what he should attribute this sudden empowerment, but he knew enough to take advantage of it, and before his nerve failed, he rushed the bed.

She tried to get away, but she wasn’t fast enough. She hadn’t anticipated this move, and he tackled her around the midsection, slamming her into the wall. She was stronger than he was, he could feel the strength in her muscles, could sense the coiled power within her, but surprise and her own apprehension had given him the momentary advantage, and he kneed her in the crotch and elbowed her in the chest and got his arms around her throat.

He’d been waiting for this, wanting it. It was what Kristen had told him to do, what Daniel and the others obviously desired. But his hands were around her neck and he was about to twist them—

—and he couldn’t.