She and Saraub backed away. Together, they scrambled down the hall. Behind them, ants swarmed the room. Wood chips, boxes, the air mattress, the ivories, torn old clothes, they chewed and chewed. Gnawing, gnawing, until all remnants of the door were gone.

They stumbled down the hall, where the rest of The Breviary's wild-eyed tenants wandered, aimless. Thick smoke filled the air. By now their bodies were so deformed that they looked identical to their shadow selves. Before she and Saraub started down the stairs, Audrey glanced back once. The entire den was squirming with red.

They gave up trying to limp down the steps, and instead got down on their bottoms and slid. The building creaked and moaned like wheezing breaths. Three more flights-the lobby. At the front doors, they found two police officers in blue uniforms, and behind that, a fire truck. She and Saraub slowed, but kept walking. "Bad fire. Be careful," she said to one of the firemen as they pa.s.sed.

"Should we go back?" Saraub asked, panting, once they got to the doorman's podium. "See if we can help get some of those people out of the building?" His shoulder was bleeding badly, and he needed to go to a hospital.

She shook her head. "No. They're not worth it."

Just then the chandelier dropped and the old lobby's ceiling caved in. Plaster fell. Cops and firemen headed for the exit. With a loud, ear-rattling moan, The Breviary died, trapping the drunks and monsters and gray-haired children within its corpse.

Holding hands, Audrey Lucas and Saraub Ramesh limped out the door and into the world. They did not look back.

Epilogue.

Flight

Dratted Upper West Side Inferno October 27, 2012 Gothamites with keen noses know that where there's smoke, there's fire. As by now most readers have heard, the landmark building The Breviary in Manhattan's tony Morningside Heights went up in flames last night. Eighteen residents, with the aid of New York's bravest, escaped the towering inferno. Tragically, another thirty-four locked themselves in their apartments, where help could not arrive, and were consumed by the h.e.l.lfire. The angels must have been watching, though, because not a single cop or fireman was injured.

Fire Chief Warren Otis gave a brief statement this morning, "Preliminary investigations indicate arson at more than one point of origin, with more than one type of incendiary-basically we found evidence of gasoline in the bas.e.m.e.nt, nail polish remover dumped all over the lobby rugs, and lighter fluid and newspaper stuffed on top of burning stove pilots in many of the apartments." When asked whether the residents had partic.i.p.ated in a Jonestown variety ma.s.s suicide, he declined comment.

The building was, until recently, privately owned by its blue-blooded occupants, whose median age was eighty-five. Most were related to each other, and all were members of a cult called Chaotic Naturalism. The pseudoreligion predicted a slew of dastardly deeds, such as the death of mankind and a return to the age of beasts. Their ma.s.ses reputedly took place Monday evenings, in the form of c.o.c.ktail parties, where they drank the blood of a slaughtered animal. Over the years this ritual apparently proved too onerous, and they converted instead to booze and that rare African delicacy, chocolate-covered ants. Occupants were known for erratic behavior, such as discharging BB guns from their roof, stealing from their cleaning staffs, and making obscene gestures at pedestrians down below.

In keeping with the city's recent love affair with the maudlin, there will be a five-borough moment of silence at noon today to honor the victims, as well as a memorial service at St. John the Divine. Strangers with time on their hands might also want to add their flowers to the six-foot-high clump of baby's breath and hydrangea in front of the building's burnt-out sh.e.l.l.

After the Twenty-sixth Precinct finishes its investigation, the building is slated for demolition. In a new development, it turns out that The Breviary's residents had recently sold their shares in The Breviary to Columbia University Graduate Student Housing in order to cover back taxes. Several months ago, they received letters from the University, as well as the city housing authority, asking them to vacate by summer for reasons of public health, which some reporters believe sparked the ma.s.s suicide.

This investigation is ongoing. Turn to page 5 for eyewitness accounts.

From The New York Post The New York Post

We Are All Architects It wasn't a switch, but a b.u.t.ton. A November day in Lincoln, the trees out the window were all barren. She straightened Betty's jagged bangs. Her hands had thinned, and her closed eyes were more sunken. An IV tree fed the tube in her arm.

Audrey knew then why she'd thought her alarm clock read 5:18 that first morning in The Breviary. Because that had been the same time that Betty had entered her coma. It really had been Betty who'd come to her at her darkest hour. She'd broken through Audrey's dreams to warn her and make her whole again. Because love endures all kinds of things. Hurt, betrayal, hatred, bad luck, and even death. "I love you, Momma," she said. "I hope you rest well, now."

The doctor she'd never before met pushed the b.u.t.ton, and the respirator slowed, then stopped. The beeping things got quiet. Betty left her flawed, iron-winged body, and Audrey hoped that she was free now, to fly someplace good.

Two days later, she and Saraub boarded a flight from Omaha back to New York. She was wearing his ring again, and though it had only been a few weeks, in this case the human mind proved resilient. They'd both forgotten much of what had happened, except in nightmares.

Saraub's film was almost finished, and he was scheduled to spend the winter editing it. He'd decided to include all the material he'd filmed and face a possible lawsuit once he realized that it was Sunshine that was liable, not him personally. After that, like always, he'd find another mountain to climb.

Audrey's own 59th Street Project had gotten the go-ahead from AIAB, and was under construction. Though she'd been out of the office and Simon had given the presentation, he'd used the new plans he'd found in her cubicle her last night at Vesuvius. Because she'd missed so much work, the Pozzolana brothers had wanted to fire her, but Jill had fought bitterly, not only to keep her aboard but to give her a raise. In the end, the Pozzolanas had buckled though she doubted she'd be staying at Vesuvius for long. She and Jill were talking about starting their own firm and working out of her apartment on the Upper East Side in another year. They'd take David with them. Street Project had gotten the go-ahead from AIAB, and was under construction. Though she'd been out of the office and Simon had given the presentation, he'd used the new plans he'd found in her cubicle her last night at Vesuvius. Because she'd missed so much work, the Pozzolana brothers had wanted to fire her, but Jill had fought bitterly, not only to keep her aboard but to give her a raise. In the end, the Pozzolanas had buckled though she doubted she'd be staying at Vesuvius for long. She and Jill were talking about starting their own firm and working out of her apartment on the Upper East Side in another year. They'd take David with them.

The flexible hours would come in handy, because that last time she and Saraub had been in Lincoln, they'd conceived more than she'd antic.i.p.ated. This morning, after her mother's burial, she took a pregnancy test. Only six weeks along, but Saraub had been too excited to contain himself. When Sheila called him about having Audrey over for dinner, he'd blurted the news. To their surprise, she'd ask to talk to Audrey. "Forgive an old woman. Let's start over," she'd blurted into the phone. "Now, what's your favorite dessert?"

And now, here they were, heading down the runway. It occurred to her that all children inherit their parents' debts, and it is up to each generation to determine how, or whether, to repay them. Ahead of them was work and weddings and babies, and dinner tonight with his family for the first time in over a year. Behind them was the hard path that had led them to this good place. And though they were both awed and even frightened by the audacity of the American Airlines 767 as it lifted off into the sky and began to soar, they trusted that it would land safely in New York, where together, they would fill the holes they found there with something better than flowers.

Acknowledgments.

Some books are harder than others. I'm indebted to Joe Veltre for his encouragement and faith. I'm also grateful to my editors, Sarah Durand and Diana Gill, both of whom gave me the time to get it right. Finally, thanks to Arlaina Tibensky for the awesome line, and the people who've read this in its various stages: Who Wants Cake, Jon Evans, and Adrienne Miller. Thanks also to Diahann Sturge for the rocking design and Karen Davy in Managing Editorial. And, of course, first, last, and always, JT.

About the Author.

SARAH LANGAN received her MFA in fiction writing from Columbia University. She studied with Michael Cunningham, Nicholas Christopher, Helen Schulman, Susan Kenney, and Maureen Howard, among others, all of whom have been instrumental to her work. The author of received her MFA in fiction writing from Columbia University. She studied with Michael Cunningham, Nicholas Christopher, Helen Schulman, Susan Kenney, and Maureen Howard, among others, all of whom have been instrumental to her work. The author of The Keeper The Keeper and the Bram Stoker Award-winning and the Bram Stoker Award-winning The Missing, The Missing, she is a master's candidate in environmental medicine at NYU and lives in Brooklyn, New York. she is a master's candidate in environmental medicine at NYU and lives in Brooklyn, New York.

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CRITICAL ACCLAIM ACCLAIM FOR THE PREVIOUS NOVELS OF SARAH LANGAN FOR THE PREVIOUS NOVELS OF SARAH LANGAN.

"A MAJOR TALENT."

Tim Lebbon, author of Dusk and Berserk Dusk and Berserk THE KEEPER.

"A beautiful, suspenseful novel...that sets out to do exactly what it should: scare the reader with a combination of well-crafted prose and page-turning velocity." beautiful, suspenseful novel...that sets out to do exactly what it should: scare the reader with a combination of well-crafted prose and page-turning velocity."

Baltimore Sun "A smart, brand-new take on the haunted house story and it's a dilly-Crammed with startling images and framed by a sense of overwhelming dread. It's really hard to believe this is a first novel." smart, brand-new take on the haunted house story and it's a dilly-Crammed with startling images and framed by a sense of overwhelming dread. It's really hard to believe this is a first novel."

Jack Ketchum, author of Offspring Offspring "[Langan] combines a witches' brew of toxic styles, mixing in bits of Stephen King, Lovecraft, Poe, and Peter Straub, then pours out a thoroughly nasty concoction all her own."

Madison County Herald "Her book [has] a distinct and juicy flavor all its own. The Keeper begins what should be a very fruitful career."

New York Times bestselling author Peter Straub bestselling author Peter Straub "Sarah Langan's debut novel The Keeper The Keeper kept me up late into the night.... I'm hoping for a whole shelf of novels by Langan, and many other sleepless nights." kept me up late into the night.... I'm hoping for a whole shelf of novels by Langan, and many other sleepless nights."

Kelly Link, author of Magic for Beginners Magic for Beginners "Richly populated with small-town characters at varying stages of emotional crisis, from numb puzzlement to unshakable bitterness to abject despair...it's the only horror story I've read recently that finds adequate metaphors for the self-destructive properties of anger."

New York Times Book Review "Deft and disturbing, The Keeper The Keeper twists expectations into surreal surprises. Sarah Langan's tale of haunted lives and landscapes is hypnotic reading." twists expectations into surreal surprises. Sarah Langan's tale of haunted lives and landscapes is hypnotic reading."

Douglas E. Winter "Splendid...Echoes of Stephen King resound throughout Ms Langan's rich depiction of a mill town.... The first-fruits of a most promising career."

Washington Times "An astonishing first novel that had me turning pages late into the night. The book is chilling, haunting, and so smartly written that the pages fly by like the wind. Do not read this book while you're alone-unless you turn on all the lights."

Ray Garton, author of The Loveliest Dead The Loveliest Dead "[The Keeper] will scare the heck out of you."

OK! Magazine (* 4 stars *) Magazine (* 4 stars *) "The new author on the block is definitely a keeper."

Locus THE MISSING.

WINNER OF THE BRAM STOKER AWARD.

"As engrossing as a dagger poised at one's throat."

J.C. Patterson "A genuine creepfest that recalls, in the best way possible, the early work of Stephen King.... Langan has the control of a pro.... This solid soph.o.m.ore effort proves that the uncanny ability of genuine creepfest that recalls, in the best way possible, the early work of Stephen King.... Langan has the control of a pro.... This solid soph.o.m.ore effort proves that the uncanny ability of The Keeper The Keeper to burrow into readers' heads and stay there was no fluke." to burrow into readers' heads and stay there was no fluke."

Publishers Weekly (* Starred Review *) (* Starred Review *) "[Langan] weaves a supernatural disaster around a small Maine town with greater skill than anyone since Stephen King.... Langan pulls no punches at all....[She] has the ability to create a fully-realized, three-dimensional person in only a few short pages.... Langan's voice will echo in your head for days after you finish reading this book. I find myself eagerly awaiting her next outing, even if the path down which she leads us is lined with poisonous flowers."

Belleville News-Democrat (IL) (IL) "Perfect for Halloween reading...Fans of Stephen King will devour Sarah Langan's second book."

Huntsville Times (AL) (AL) "Langan has a sharp eye for the small, vivid details of American life and her characters are utterly believable."

The Times (London) (London)

By Sarah Langan

AUDREY'S D DOOR

THE M MISSING.

THE K KEEPER.