"Kelly!" Gabrielle cried, leaping to her feet.

McNeely ran to Wickstrom's side. The younger man's eyes were rolling up so that only the whites and the bottoms of the irises showed. His lips were flecked with foam, and a slight trembling shook his entire frame.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Gabrielle desperately.

"I don't . . ." The body slumped in the chair, as if whatever had been animating it had fled. Wickstrom's eyes opened, and he looked up foolishly at the other two.

"What happened?" he asked.

"What happened?" Gabrielle repeated. "You . . . you went out."

"This ever happen before, Kelly?" McNeely heard himself ask. "Aside from your dreams in this house?"

"No, never." Wickstrom shook his head. "Those other times . . . here . . . I remembered. This time it was just like . . . like nothing."

"It was the house," said Gabrielle. She looked at McNeely, suppressed fury broadening her features. "You were wrong, George. It's still here."

"No," said McNeely. "It's not."

"It didn't feel like the other times," said Wickstrom. "I gotta lie down." They helped him to his bedroom. As soon as he closed his eyes, he was asleep.

"The truth, George," Gabrielle said accusingly when they were alone in the hall. "Tell me the truth."

"I couldn't with him there," McNeely replied, thinking how easy it had become to lie when so much was at stake. "I did tell you the truth about its not being the house." She frowned, but he went on. "It's Kelly. Kelly himself."

"What do you mean? Are you saying he's going crazy?"

"It's a wonder we all haven't," McNeely answered, his face lined with concern. "I've seen this before. Once in South America. We were pinned down by a group of rebels for days. No food or water at all. The one who went first was the one we'd least expected, the vet of a hundred battles." McNeely was amazed at how effortlessly the lies flowed, as though he were speaking long-memorized lines in a play. "He'd lose consciousness just like Kelly did, eyes rolling, foaming at the mouth. Then he'd come out of it okay. Until the last time."

Gabrielle looked oddly at him. He could not tell whether she believed him or not. "What happened," she asked, "the last time?"

"He went mad," McNeely answered quietly. "Took his rifle and opened fire on his own squad. Killed one man and wounded another before we finally brought him down."

Gabrielle's face was expressionless. "And you think that's what's happening to Kelly."

McNeely nodded. "Yes. I do."

"And how long did it take for this man you were with to get violent?"

"A matter of hours."

"If it happens to Kelly, how can you be sure that he'd respond violently?"

"Would you expect anything else from this place?"

"But what could he do? We have no weapons."

"Madness brings out amazing strength. He wouldn't need any weapons."

She shook her head, and though her jaw was firm, tears were pooling in her eyes. "I can't believe it. Not Kelly."

"I know you like him. I like him too. But he could be dangerous to us."

She laughed in bitter disbelief. "So what do you want to do? Kill him?"

"If I have to, I will."

She looked at McNeely as if he were a stranger. "If he goes mad, it's because he's sick. You can't kill a man for being sick!"

"I'll do anything I have to to protect you!" The words were spoken by McNeely alone, from the heart, and Gabrielle quailed at the quiet ferocity of them. For a moment he wondered if he had gone too far, overplayed his hand, wondered if the truth had shaken her more than the lies. So he made himself relax, and let the cunningly easy manner of the thing inside him take control once more. "We'll just watch him closely," he said. "If there's anything really wrong, we'll be able to tell."

She nodded in agreement, but her eyes were frightened, and he felt as though he had to get away from her accusing stare, had to speak to the ent.i.ty to find out what had happened, where they were headed, what to do next. He felt drawn in half, as though he were two different people over neither of whom he had complete control.

"I'm tired," he said. "I think I'll take a nap." He walked down the hall and into their suite, listening to her footsteps slowly following him. Turning at the bedroom door, he watched her sit on the sofa and stare at her hands on her lap. When he realized she was not going to join him, he closed the door and lay down on the bed.

What happens now? he thought.

You'll kill Kelly Wickstrom.

She didn't believe me.

We planted the seed. It will grow.

McNeely asked no more questions, and the voice within him was silent. He felt like a machine whose battery had run down and was being recharged. And when the power had been restored, what then?

Then he would kill a man.

He must have slept, for the voice seemed to pull him out of a strange dream of odd, twisted faces in a red haze.

She is with him!

"With ... who?" He spoke aloud, forgetting.

With Wickstrom! In his room!

McNeely sat up. He swayed slightly, still half-asleep, then ran into the living room. Gabrielle was not there.

Go into the hall.

He opened the door slowly and stepped through. There was no longer any question of whether or not to obey. He had come so far that he had to go on, not even wondering if he was truly possessed. It was not as though it commanded and he obeyed; instead, its mind was his. He was the thing's hands and body, moving when it chose. He knew he should be terrified by the concept, but he felt strangely emotionless, unwilling to rebel.

The door of Wickstrom's suite was slightly ajar, and he listened to the conversation within.

" ... like somebody clobbered me over the head and I stepped out for a minute. Like it wasn't really me."

"Do you think it was your mind or not?" Gabrielle's voice, pressing.

"It wasn't. I swear it wasn't. And still it wasn't like the other times."

"George thinks you're . . . you might be dangerous."

"Dangerous? Oh, Christ."

Come away! the voice hissed.

McNeely stepped back from the door and reentered his suite. He lay down once more on the bed.

You must do it now. Before it is too late.

Too late?

You fool! She's warning him!

McNeely smiled, pleased at the irritation in its voice. I told you she didn't believe me. It was you in Wickstrom then, wasn't it?

There was no reply.

I felt something leave me just before he went out.

They're plotting against you, the voice snarled. Not against us.

You're changing the subject.

We'll change your life to death in another second. Have you forgotten what happens if ...

McNeely interrupted verbally. "I've forgotten everything." His voice was far away as though he were forgetting even how to speak.

Do not forget her. The voice was softer now, oddly matching McNeely's tranced, puzzled mood. His death means her life. She will believe you.

"What do I believe?" he whispered into the dim light.

You believe in her.

It's no use, McNeely thought to himself. It doesn't matter now. Then, aloud, he said, "I'll need your strength."

You shall have it.

Chapter Twenty-four.

Renault, holding a small microphone, sat in the copilot's seat. The copilot sat behind him, gritting his teeth in response to the racket Renault was making.

"Of course no one was at the cabin! No one answered my calls! What about the main house? . . . What do you mean your men didn't check? For G.o.d's sake, that's what I wanted checked! What did Harrison tell you? . . . Harrison! The man from my office who called you? . . . That G.o.dd.a.m.ned idiot! Now listen, sheriff . . . all right then, chief! Get some men up to The Pines right away. And an ambulance as well. I don't care, knock it down! d.a.m.n the gate! And one more thing. Can you have a car waiting at the airport? I'll want to go right up to the mountain. I'll cover any expenses and more . . . I a.s.sure you it is vitally important. . . . All right, fine. Yes, thank you." He flicked a switch and sat back in the seat. "d.a.m.n it." He turned to the pilot. "How long now?"

"Almost there, sir.

"Hmph." Renault noticed something in the dark sky ahead, and leaned forward, adjusting his gla.s.ses. "What's that below?"

"Snow, sir."

Chapter Twenty-five.

How shall I kill him?

With your hands.

He's strong.

You will be stronger.

Where?

The cellar. You will ask for his help in the cellar. And then?

He will go mad and try to kill you. You will act in self-defense.

What if Gabrielle comes with us?

She will not.

I do not want this.

Yes. You want it.

When?

When she returns. Pretend to wake as she comes in.

I don't know what to say, what to do.

Leave that to us. Save yourself for killing.

For the first time McNeely noticed that the voice shook. Not from weakness, not from any lack of power . . . but from excitement.