In terror she began beating at him, trying to wrest the fingers that had dug into her eye. In a sudden move, Thorn ripped Damien off her, grabbing him in a bear hug and pinning his arms to his side.

"Drive!" he panted to Horton. "Get out of here!"

And as the child struggled, Horton ran to the front seat, slamming doors as he went; the limousine lurched forward suddenly as it pulled quickly away from the curb.

"My God." sobbed Katherine, holding her head, "my . . . God. . . ."

And as the limousine sped away, the child's struggling slowly ceased, his head falling back in utter exhaustion. Horton swerved back onto the highway, and in a few moments, all was silent. Damien sat with glazed eyes, his face wet with perspiration; Thorn still clutched him in his arms, gazing fearfully ahead. Beside him, Katherine was in a state of shock, her hair pulled and torn, one eye swollen and nearly shut. They drove home in silence. No one dared to speak.

When they arrived at Pereford, they took Damien to his room and sat with him in silence as he stared out the window. His forehead was cool, so there was no need for a doctor. But he would not look at them; fearful, himself, of what he had done.

'Til take care of him," Mrs. Baylock said quietly as she entered the room.

As Damien turned and saw her, his entire posture registered relief.

"He had a fright," Katherine said to the woman.

"He doesn't like church," replied the woman. "He wanted to go to the park instead."

"He became ... wild," said Thorn.

"He was angry," said Mrs. Baylock. And she moved forward, lifting him into her arms. He clung to her. Like a child to his mother. The Thorns watched in silence. And then they slowly left the room.

"There's somethin' wrong," said Horton to his wife.

It was night now and they were in the kitchen, she having listened in silence as he recounted the day's events.

"There's somethin' wrong with that Mrs. Baylock," he continued, "and there's somethin' wrong with that boy, and there's somethin' wrong with this house."

"You're making too much of it," she replied.

"If you'd seen it, you'd know what I'm saying."

"A child's tantrum."

"An animal's tantrum."

"He's spirited, that's all."

"Since when?"

She shook her head as if to dismiss it, taking a pile of vegetables from the refrigerator and beginning to cut them into small pieces.

"Ever looked into them eyes?" asked Horton. "It's the same as lookin' into an animal's. They just watch. They wait. They know somethin' you don't know. They been someplace you never been."

"You and your hobgoblins," she muttered as she cut.

"You wait and see," assured Horton. "Something bad's happening here."

"Something bad is happening everywhere."

"I don't like it," he said darkly. Tin thinking we should leave."