4.

Sarah took off for the door. Her mother grabbed her, pulled her close. "Hush now," she whispered. "There's nothing to do."

"Let go of me!" she screamed, her eye twitching, the spastic muscle pulling at her cheek.

Sarah, not thinking at all anymore, spotted a patch of skin, sunk her teeth into it and her mother yelled, her grip softening just enough for Sarah to squirm out of her arms. She flashed out of the room before her mother could recapture her, sprinted down the hall, her bare feet slapping on the wood.

Later, after it all had happened, she would think back and this would be her last memory before the darkness.

5.

"Bring them down or we will go up and get them," repeated Durham.

The man didn't budge. "You will kill me before you do."

"Oh yes," said the preacher, capturing another step. "'We will."

Just then a girl burst out the door behind the man. She faced Nathaniel Durham. "Leave us be!" she shrieked, and there was something about her voice that moved the mob to shuffle back.

William Pennerey watched her, both fascinated and frightened. She was a pretty thing, perhaps a bit tall for her age, but she moved extraordinarily well. And not only did she seem in exquisite control of her young body, but her presence had taken temporary control of the proceedings. Temporary because he'd never seen anyone challenge the preacher's will and get very far. And people had tried. Yet he had to give her credit: her anger-white-hot, deep and indignant-had thrown the men off balance.

"Go home," she said, her body tense as a coil. Everything about her was a command. "All of you."

Still, her eye twitched.

6.

He didn't move to collect his daughter. In minutes, he wouldn't be able to anyway. She was losing control. They hadn't reached Daniel in time.

"I said," Sarah continued. "Go home."

He backed up until he could feel the inn at his back. There was nothing to do. Glancing into the hotel, he wondered where the hotel woman was. She couldn't be waiting for a better moment.

7.

She wasn't waiting. Seconds after Sarah had escaped, the innkeeper's wife had made an appearance with the family shotgun, and corralled Sarah's mother back into the room. The hotel woman stood there silent now, the gun cradled over her arms like a newborn. Sarah's mother wondered if this woman and the innkeeper had been unable to bear children. Something about the way she held the gun and the plump dissatisfaction of her figure suggested her incompleteness.

"Why are you holding me?" she asked.

The fat woman's face pinched. Her eyes nearly vanished. Sweat lined her brow. "Bill's with the preacher. Has been all night. The preacher thinks you're a danger to Tempest, so I'm doin' my part."

"And how could we be a danger?"

"Well, you see, there was trouble over at Taylor's . . ."

But she had stopped listening. She'd been on this earth nearly two hundred years, and there had always been more than enough stupid people to go around. Couldn't reason with them, but throw a touch of the fear they enjoyed instilling in others back at them . . .

She smacked her palms into the mattress she sat on, rocking back and forth, her head down, her hair cascading over her face. They had fled Salem, then The Five Points, and they'd only just arrived here. She was done running.

The woman stepped back, her hands tightening on the long barrel of the gun.

Then she opened her mouth. Her stringy hair shook around her face like a collection of beads.

The woman tightened her fingers around the trigger.

Her head snapped to. Hair striped her face as she shook.

"Stop it, I'm telling you, I'll take off your-"

She snapped her jaws. The woman let out a yell as the gun was ripped from her hands. For a second it was suspended in midair, then it took off like a bullet itself, smashing into the ceiling. The woman watched it a moment, then looked toward the open doorway. She started for it. But Sarah's mother followed her with her eyes. Untouched, the woman doubled over, the air whooshing from her, and she crumpled to the floor. The gun wobbled against the ceiling, as if deciding whether or not to stay, then dropped beside her with a hollow clatter.

8.

Not only was Sarah's eye twitching, but she was beginning to shake.

At this point the man heading up the mob said something and then her father did, but she couldn't make out the words. It was only noise, as threatening and indecipherable as growls. She slapped her hands onto the side of her head, hoping to still her body, but the pressure continued to build, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her toes, and a sound like a locomotive began to smash into her skull.

9.

The girl was convulsing uncontrollably.

William had heard this type of thing described as demon possession and it was getting worse by the second-a bubbling stream of foam, like curdled milk, ran from her mouth now and her head was shaking so violently he could no longer make out her features.

Then a block down Main Street, a sign hanging from a tin awning moved The chains it hung from trembled. The mobs gaze divided-some looking down the street, others keeping their eyes on the scene before them, still others turning their heads in both direction, not sure which strange attraction merited their attention more.

The chain snapped and the sign toppled face-first into the manure and mud. Rivulets flew skyward. This confused the men to no end-their heads snapped to and from the duel distractions until the preacher finally spoke. "She is possessed!" he screamed. "Take them both!"

William moved to speak against this, but the men swept forward.

10.

Her anger had started it and her father knew that a fallen sign wouldn't be the end of it. Sure enough, the chandelier in the inn's lobby began to tremble. He moved to the door, looking back. The fixture contained kerosene lights and several hundred crystal beads. Then the men were on him. They took his arms. He shoved one back, but another quickly took his place and suddenly he couldn't move. He yelled for his wife, for his daughter, but he couldn't see over the heads of the mob. And that's when they took his hands, yanking them behind his back. Something popped, sending a flash of pain through his shoulder, and then someone struck him, sent him toppling face-first, like the sign, into the boards. He smashed his nose and blood poured out. He could smell it, taste it, and he gagged.

11.

In getting to the man, they all gave the girl a wide berth. Some eyed her warily as they pa.s.sed, and William thought he saw doubt, or even guilt, on some of their faces.

But in less than a minute her father was belly-down on the inn's porch, hog-tied, and shouting a woman's name.

12.

No one had a chance to investigate the chandelier before the inn itself began to tremble. There was a rumbling; the earth shook. Main Street's mud bubbled, slopped around, and spit up. The boards of several of the storefronts cracked.

Meanwhile, the porch under the girl shook, the boards splitting. Many of the men jumped over the railing, leaving the girl and her father surrounded by only three men. Not one of them took a single step toward the girl as she stood convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Instead, they looked to the preacher for direction. "Boys," he said, smiling, strangely pleased by it all. "You're going to have to knock her out."

They glanced around unsurely and William wasn't sure any of them would do it. But then the biggest of the bunch-a fat, quiet farmer named Jake-stepped forward. He wound his ma.s.sive hand back and William gasped. But Jake didn't hit her with his full weight. Nevertheless, the blow knocked her off her feet and she lay there on the boards, breathing hollowly. Still she twitched, the foam spilling from her lips, milking onto the wood. Then her eyes drifted up and her body slowly came to rest.

Everyone was still. William looked down Main, at the mud and s.h.i.t running toward them in a river, at the huge sign for Hillary's Beauty Supplies being carried forth, and at his own establishment, with its shingles and boards hanging precariously from the building like broken teeth, and he thought, And neither of them touched it with their hands.

13.

She stepped quickly over the remains of the chandelier and burst outside. Her husband was lying on his stomach, tied up, Sarah lay a few feet away, and three men faced her on the deck. She took a step back, snapped her teeth, clenched her fists and an enormous man who must have stood nearly seven feet tall flew back as if kicked by a horse. Bones popped and he screamed as he bounced down the steps. From the corner of her eye, she saw another man swinging a pickaxe, and she pivoted as the blade sliced the air beside her. As the arc of the swing ended she whispered old words and the man shrieked. The pickaxe plunged itself into his chest. Blood jumped into the silvery daylight, coppery and curved above the dead body that had yet to fall.

Then she turned to the last man standing, but he had chosen flight over fight, leaping over the railing, and tearing off down Main Street, screaming. He was followed only by the preacher's voice.

14.

William said nothing when he saw Chuck Vagon-a good, reliable farmhand, father of five-raise his rifle. This whole thing was beyond him; probably had been from the start. When the shot rang out he followed the bullet's course from the barrel of the rifle to the woman who, for all he knew, had led an unblemished life. Her face exploded. A great gout of tissue, blood and marrow flew in all directions. Some of it landed squarely on the preacher's face.

William Pennerey dropped his head. He began to pray and as he did he heard the steady, sure footfalls of Nathaniel Durham as he climbed the steps of the inn. A revolver's hammer clicked back and the preacher began to chuckle. William had never heard a sound so evil before. Still mouthing a prayer, he looked up to see the preacher standing over the hog-tied man, who was looking back into the barrel of the gun silently. His eyes were completely flat.

The report was deafening.

15.

Daniel jumped out of bed with a start. He stood in the middle of his room, staring into the fireplace, filled with soot and ash, and tried to quiet his suddenly hectic breathing. She's coming, he thought. She's coming and they're not. They're not because they're dead.

Daniel hung his head, ran a hand over his eyes and whispered a prayer to the G.o.ds of earth and sky, a prayer for the girl.

And for all the others, the ones who might get in her way.

Chapter Twelve: Already a Ghost.