Page 128 of Home Before Dark

“I know.”

I checked the photo still developing in my hands, the image of Jess and Maggie emerging from the whiteness.

Behind them—hovering right at Jess’s back—was Indigo Garson.

I looked from the picture to my wife and daughter, still in that same position.

Then Maggie flew to the ceiling.

It happened in a blink.

One second she was in Jess’s arms. The next she was on the ceiling, being dragged across it by an unseen force.

Jess and I could only watch in terror as Maggie thrashed against the ceiling, screaming as she continued to be moved against her will. When she came within arm’s reach of the chandelier, she grabbed it and held on with all her might. The chandelier rocked back and forth. A few of its glass globes shook loose and crashed to the floor around us, the shards scattering.

Above us, Maggie had been wrenched free from the still-swaying chandelier and was once again being pulled across the ceiling. Jess kept screaming her name, as if that could free her.

But I knew there was only one way to make Indigo let go of Maggie. Since her goal was to hurt me as much as her father had hurt her, I needed to remove myself from the equation.

Or at least pretend to.

I dropped to my knees, surrounded by pieces of glass from the broken chandelier.

Shards bring luck.

Grabbing the largest glass piece I could find, I pressed it to my neck and shouted to the ceiling, “Indigo, let her go or I’ll kill myself!”

Jess looked at me, horrified. “Ewan, no!”

“Trust me, Jess,” I whispered. “I know what I’m doing.”

Indigo wouldn’t let it get that far. If she wanted Maggie dead, then she needed me to do the deed. That wouldn’t be possible if I was already dead.

“I’m serious!” I yelled. “You know you can’t do this without me!”

I pressed the shard deeper against my neck, twisting it slightly until the tip of glass pierced my skin. A thin line of blood ran down my neck.

Maggie dropped without warning, her descent dizzyingly fast. Jess and I both lunged for her, our arms entangling, forming an accidental cradle into which our daughter landed.

She had been in our arms for barely a second when a wave of heat bore down on us from above. Hotter than earlier. A full blast of fury.

Noise rose all around us—a sudden, violent hissing that seemed to come from every corner of the house. A moment later, snakes began to fill the room.

Red-bellies.

They appeared instantly, emerging from darkened corners and out from under the floorboards. I saw them on the second floor as well, slithering across the landing on their way down the stairs.

Within seconds, we were surrounded, the snakes sidewinding their way toward us. Quite a few hissed their displeasure, their open mouths exposing teeth as sharp as razor blades.

I pushed Maggie into Jess’s arms, still fearful of what I might doif I continued to hold her. I then began to fight off the snakes, trying to clear a path toward the vestibule. I kicked. I stomped. Some snakes backed away. Others struck at my feet.

One lunged for Jess. I kicked it out of the way before it could make contact.

“We need to hurry,” I said. “Run!”

That’s exactly what we did. The three of us ran through the vestibule. Toward the front door. Onto the porch.

The snakes followed, pouring forth from the open front door in a writhing, teeming mass.

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