“Okay,” said Tuesday, “that sounds totally whacked, but yes, I sometimes get the feeling I’m being watched, and the clothes in my cupboard get moved and smell of Organza when I don’t use scent. The thing is, how do we capture someone like that?”

“Back at Image Ink, I probably asked myself the same question. I may even have been making preparations. I found this an hour ago.”

I held up my hand and peeled off the Band-Aid. There, in small letters was tattooed:

Secure family in kitchen for 7:00 P.M.

“You had that written?”

“I think so. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but what I do know is this: What is happening right now is not a memory. The only reliable course of action is one that we take instantly. We have to act compulsively, and without mercy.”

“Can we be sure that Aornis isn’t in here now?” asked Tuesday. “I mean, what if she’s making us forget her almost the same instant that we see her?”

There was no simple answer to this, and we all looked around nervously. Landen even opened the broom cupboard.

“If that is the case,” he added unhelpfully, “anything we said at the beginning of this conversation might not actually be what we said at all.”

“The minutes reflect pretty much my memory of what’s happened,” said Friday, scanning the handwritten sheet carefully.

“We’re safe in here,” I said. “At least for the time being.”

Tuesday picked up the cordless drill and stood.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting Jenny in.”

We exchanged glances.

“There is no Jenny, Tuesday.”

“Bullshit. She’s been crying outside the door to be let in for the past ten minutes, and you’ve been telling her to piss off for as long.”

“Is she talking now?”

“No.”

“How long since she stopped?”

“Ten seconds. What’s the problem?”

“Look at your hand, Tuesday.”

She did, and there was “Jenny is a mindworm” written in her own handwriting.

“Now look at the minutes Friday has been jotting down.”

She did, and there was nothing about Jenny listed at all. She sat back in her chair, thoroughly confused.

I beckoned everyone closer and lowered my voice.

“The reason you can’t hear her now is that she’s only in your memory. Jenny’s not outside—Aornis is.”

“But what this tells us,” said Landen, “is that her power through a closed door is limited to the person with the mindworm. If she could get to us all at once, we would have opened the door by now, Friday’s minutes would have been destroyed and all of this forgotten.”

“Right,” said Friday, “and ten seconds must be about the limit of her manipulative horizon.”

We heard the boards creak outside, and we exchanged nervous glances.

“Aornis?” I called out, my voice sounding less confident than I might have wished. “We know what you’re up to.”