With an abrupt shake of his head, Thorn exited, heading quickly for the stairs that would take him outside. Once on the street, he moved at a run, a sense of panic welling within him as he made it to his car, fumbling with his keys. There was something wrong. He needed to be home. Flooring the accelerator, he swung a fast U-turn, tires squealing as he headed back in the direction of the highway. Pereford was a half hour away and he feared, though he didn't know why, that he might not get there in time. The streets of London were filled with midday traffic; he sounded his horn, swerving and running stoplights as the sense of desperation overwhelmed him.

At Pereford House, Katherine felt the anxiety too, busying herself with household duties in an attempt to quiet her gnawing fear. She stood now on the second-floor landing, pitcher in hand, wondering how to reach the plants that hung suspended just over the railing. She wanted to water them, but feared spilling the water onto the tile floor two stories below. Behind her, in his playroom, Damien rode his wheeled car, making the sound of a freight train, a sound that intensified as he rode faster. Unseen by Katherine, Mrs. Baylock stood in a far corner of the child's room, her eyes closed, as though locked in prayer.

On the highway, the tires squealed harshly as Thorn turned onto the cloverleaf that spewed the vehicle onto M-40, the direct road home. Thorn's face was taut with tension, his hands squeezing the wheel as the pavement blurred beneath him, his body straining with every fiber to urge the car forward. It zipped down the highway like a streak of beige lightning, passing other cars as though they were standing still. Thorn was perspiring now, as each car ahead of him became a target to be overtaken. He blasted his horn, and each car made way as his car shot ahead. He thought of the police and glanced in the rear-view mirror. And there he saw the ominous shape moving up behind him. It was another car, black and massive, following his every move. The car was a hearse. And it was gaining on him. And as Thorn watched it coming up from behind, his face froze with fear.

At Pereford, Damien sped faster on his toy car, pounding up on it as though it were a racehorse. In the hallway, Catherine stepped up onto a stool. In Da-mien's room, Mrs. Baylock gazed hard at the child as if directing him with the sheer force of willpower to go faster and the boy accelerated, wild-eyed, his face filled with frenzy.