"I guess you'll have to kill us. Finally finish what you started."

"I don't want to kill you, Martin. I never wanted to kill you."

"Then explain this." He held up his left hand.

The creature wearing the old woman's body sighed. Nodded tiredly toward the window.

"My daughters, they believe you're bad news. Ethel saw nothing but darkness in our future. The end of the road. They think you will be the cause. I suppose they were right, in a way. I spared you because of your fairy mark, the little red splotch right on the top of your crown. My baby sister had the same birthmark. Poor, sweet Violet. I knew then the time had come to stop with all this bloodshed, all this petty revenge. Where had it gotten us? Perhaps I was being too sentimental. But maybe it's high time to shelve the past. Put it behind us, where it belongs."

She picked up the teacup and saucer again. Looked at its contents, then set them down.

"What if we were to sweep it all neatly under the rug, hmm? Just like Norma would, once she's already cleaned the entire house and discovered another dust bunny under the coffee table."

Norma looked guiltily at her shoes.

"How does that sound? I'll make it so your memories of us and this island and all that has happened to you here just—poof—disappears. Would you like that, Sheila? Martin? Norma—we can do it for you too, if you like. Though I'd prefer it if you stayed." She grinned again, showing her ancient, blood-pinked teeth. "A three-for-one special. What do you say to that?"

Martin shook his head. "And the five of you keep bleeding these people dry? No thanks."

"It would seem to me you cared very little for the people of this town, Martin. So little you turned your back and never once spoke of us. Not once in your career. Left us in the dust, so you did. Ancient history. Now you're petitioning for a key to the bleeding city?"

"Do you need us, Mother?" Helen called from the street.

"I'll bloody tell you when I need you, woman!" Ruby shouted back.

Sheila cringed. Norma covered her ears.

Martin stepped around the table toward her. Done with being afraid. Eager to end this, once and for all. "You killed Nadine Hinckley," he said. "You killed Ruby St. John and Reverend Atkins and God knows who else. You killed my mother."

He slammed his fist on the table, so hard the wound split open and the cutlery jangled. Norma's glass upturned and spilled the last of her milk on the tablecloth.

"I'm your mother."

"You're not. You never were. You're a cuckoo bird, stealing other people's children."

"That's not true. I am your mother, Martin. I'm as much your mother as Rosalee Creemore. More so, considering I'm the one who raised you."

"Norma raised me."

"No more bargaining, Mother!"

Norma covered her mouth, surprised by the words coming from her lips. The hand dropped back into her lap and her eyes rolled up, the lids fluttering. "Send out the boy and his whore, or you'll all pay the price."