In the graveyard the air rang with growing rage; in her hospital room, Katherine fought against the net of gossamer, winding it tighter around her head and neck. She felt an instant of panic and began to breath heavily, but then a door opened and she relaxed, knowing that help had finally come.

The graveyard of Cimitero di Sant'Angelo reverberated with sound, the wailing growing to even greater heights.

"Hello?" asked Katherine, trying to see who had come in.

But there was no answer and she spun around, searching the room through her gossamer veil.

"Is someone here?"

And then she stopped.

It was Mrs. Baylock; her face powered white, her mouth set in a lipstick-painted grin. Speechless, Katherine watched as the woman walked slowly past her and threw open the window, gazing down into the street below.

"Could you help me . . . ?" Katherine whispered. "I seem ... to be stuck in here."

Mrs. Baylock merely grinned; Katherine weakened at the sight of her face.

"It's a beautiful day, Katherine," the woman said. "A beautiful day for flying."

And she moved forward, gripping the nightgown tightly in her fists.

"Please..." Katherine pleaded.

Their eyes held for one long, last moment.

"You look so beautiful," Mrs. Baylock said. "Give us a kiss."

She leaned forward and Katherine lurched back, the woman spinning her violently toward the window.

In the hospital emergency entrance, an ambulance screeched in, its siren screaming and red light twirling, as high above in a sixth-story window the figure of a woman with a purple nightgown wrapped about her face gracefully took flight. The figure revolved slowly in its long descent, the movement of its cast forming a design in the air. No one saw it until the body hit the roof of the ambulance, bouncing upward for a final flight before coming to rest, dead, in the emergency entrance driveway.

There was silence now at Cerveteri; the graves covered, the dogs vanished into the thicket.

Thorn, fallen into an exhausted sleep, was awakened by the phone. It was dark now, and Jennings was gone.

"Yes?" Thorn answered groggily.

It was Dr. Becker; the tone of his voice betrayed the news to come.

"I'm glad I found you," he said. "The name of the hotel was written on Katherine's night table, but I had trouble locating..."

"What's wrong?" asked Thorn.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this over long distance."

"What happened?"

"Katherine jumped from her hospital window."

". . . What . . . ?" gasped Thorn.

"She's dead, Mr. Thorn. We did everything we could."

A knot formed in Thorn's throat; he was unable to speak.

"We don't know what happened exactly. She'd asked to leave the hospital and then we found her outside."

"She's dead . . . ?" whimpered Thorn.

"She died instantly. Her skull was crushed on impact."

Thorn began to moan and held the receiver against his chest.

"Mr. Thorn?" the doctor asked.