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 do if 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.
Indigo Garson was with them, unseen but definitely felt. White-hot air burned at my back as I guided Jess and Maggie down the porch steps and into the car.
“What about our things?” Jess asked as she climbed into the back seat with Maggie.
“We need to leave them,” I replied. “It’s too dangerous. We can’t ever come back here.”
I started the car and peeled down the driveway. Behind me, Maggie knelt on her seat and stared out the back window.
“She’s still following us!” she cried.
I glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing nothing. “Miss Pennyface?”
“Yes! She’s right behind us!”
Just then, something rammed into the back of the car. A hard, shocking jolt.
Jess screamed and reached for Maggie. I gripped the steering wheel, trying hard not to run off the road and into the woods, which is exactly what Indigo wanted. I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal and continued to speed down the twisting drive, tires squealing all the way.
The car was hit by another invisible force, this time on the passenger-side door. For a brief moment, I lost control of the car. It skidded onto the grass alongside the drive, perilously close to the trees. It was only through sheer force of will that I was able to right us and continue down the drive.
Jess, thankfully, had left the front gate open when she and Maggie returned, allowing me to drive right through it. As soon as we were off the property, I leaped from the car and slammed the gate shut.
Heat bore down on me as I fumbled with the keys, frantically trying to lock the gate. It burst through the gate’s wrought-iron bars, turning them hot. If hell does exist, I suspect it feels a lot like the angry heat I experienced the moment I turned the key and locked the gate.
That was the moment the vengeful spirit of Indigo Garson realized she had failed.
We’d escaped Baneberry Hall, our family still intact.
And there was nothing she could do to lure us back there.
Others might one day pass through that gate, travel up that winding drive through the woods, and enter Baneberry Hall. If so, I wish them nothing but luck. They’ll need it to survive such a place.
As for me and my family—my sweet Jessica, my beloved Maggie—we have yet to return. Nor do we intend to ever set foot inside that place.
For us, Baneberry Hall is a house of horrors. One that none of us may dare enter again.
Twenty-Four
Half a dozen emergency vehicles sit outside Baneberry Hall, their flashing lights painting the house in alternating shades of red and white. In addition to Chief Alcott’s cruiser, there’s an ambulance, three more police cars, and, just in case things really get out of hand, a fire truck.
I watch from the porch as Dane is loaded into the ambulance. He’s strapped to a stretcher, a brace around his neck. His fall through the