Thanks a lot, Monica.

He pressed the Fast Forward button.

Now it's gonna take forever. And she'll be down there waiting for me, getting madder and madder...

He shut it off.

Then he stepped away from the nursery door and started making his way through the crowded hallway.

Heading for the stairs.

Because it was over.

He wouldn't be able to enjoy the tour, anyway. Not with Monica in his head.

Maybe someday I'll be able to come back again-without her-and get to go on the tour without having it ruined.

Owen walked out onto the porch of Beast House. The bright sunlight hurt his eyes and made him squint.

Monica, standing near the end of the porch, saw him and tilted her head sideways. Then she hurried over to him. "That didn't take so long," she said, sounding quite cheerful.

"Nope," Owen said, and pulled off his earphones.

They stepped past the hanging body of Gus Goucher and walked down the stairs.

"So," Monica said. "Was it everything you expected?"

"It was fine."

"Great! I'm glad at least one of us had a good time."

"Yeah."

She took hold of his hand as they walked toward the ticket booth. He didn't pull it away.

"Look at all these people," she said. "Don't they know what they're letting themselves in for?"

"Probably not," Owen said.

As they neared the booth, he saw that the person handing out tape players to arriving visitors was the guide he'd seen by the attic stairs.

The tall, fabulous blonde.

The tight cold knot inside his chest suddenly seemed to start melting.

My God, look at her.

"Oh, great," Monica muttered. Apparently, she too had recognized the girl. "King Kong."

Owen felt no anger.

He stared at the guide. She was sure large, all right, but she had a very good figure. She looked great in the tan blouse and shorts that seemed to be the uniform for Beast House guides.

Her bare arms and legs were softly tanned. Unfortunately, she wore sunglasses. He couldn't see her eyes, but he. had no trouble remembering how they'd looked upstairs in the house-deep blue and intelligent and sensitive.

Though busy handing out tape players and giving instructions to a family of four, she flashed a smile of big white teeth at Owen and Monica. In a smooth, friendly voice, she said to them, "I'll take those from you in just a moment, okay?"

"Fine," Owen said. He felt weak.

He watched her until the family headed off toward Beast House. Then he and Monica stepped toward her. "Sorry you had to wait," she said, taking their players and headphone. "I hope you enjoyed the tour."

"It was very nice," Owen said.

She wore a red plastic name plate above her right breast. It read, DANA.

"Did you come from far away?" she asked.

"We took the bus over from San Francisco."

"Really? How was the ride?"

"Long," Monica said. "Endless and..."

"It was fine," Owen said, shooting a hard glance at Monica.

She gave him back a smug smile.

To Dana, he said, "The guide on the bus-Patty-she was really good."

"Glad to hear it. So, do you think Beast House was worth the trip?"

"I sure thought so," Owen said.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Monica shaking her head.

"I thought it was really great," he added.

"Terrific," Dana said. "Well, I hope you both enjoy the rest of your day."

"Thank you. You, too."

"So long, now."

"Bye," Owen said and hurried away from her, dragging Monica by the hand.

Chapter Thirteen.

THE SNACK STAND.

I wonder what their problem is, Dana thought as she watched the couple hurry away. The guy had seemed awfully embarrassed and uncomfortable about something. Girlfriend troubles, probably. The girl with him had looked smirky and mean.

She remembered seeing them upstairs, earlier.

The gal had seemed unpleasant even then. Maybe she was one of those people who hated the place.

Dana had spotted a few of those, already. You could tell just by looking that they found the tour disgusting and horrible.

Hard to imagine they'd simply stumbled into the situation. How could they not know they were walking into a houseful of grue-some, nasty stories and exhibits?

Some of the visitors had probably gotten pushed into giving it a try. Maybe a friend or spouse or child had desperately wanted to do the Beast House tour, so they'd gone along, wanting to be good sports.

Lousy idea.

The tour was hard enough on people when they knew what to expect and wanted it-or thought they did.

Dana supposed that it turned out, for many, to be worse than they bargained for.

Sure was worse than I expected.

Even though Dana had pretty much known what she was in for, she hadn't lasted very long upstairs. She'd been fine for a while. But the hallway had become hot and stuffy later in the morning. And crowded. With every minute that passed, more and more people had packed themselves into the narrow spaces.

Some were arguing with each other. Little kids demanded this or that in whiny sharp voices. Mothers snapped at the kids. Fathers issued orders and threats. Babies squealed and bawled.

Along with the noisy mob and the heat came the odors. The air smelled heavy with them. In addition to the musty aroma natural to the old house, the air had grown thick with the pungency of sweet perfumes and aftershave lotions and sour sweat. You could smell food on the breaths of some people. Others reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Now and then, Dana even caught whiffs of farts.

Eventually, she'd found herself suffocating, dizzy and nauseous. Each time she blinked her eyes, everything in sight had flashed with rims of bright, electric blue. Slumping against a wall, she'd snatched the radio off her belt and called for Tuck.

Dana was pulled out of her thoughts by the approach of a couple of teenaged boys. Smiling, she said, "Welcome to Beast House, guys."

One smiled in a shy way, and the other said, "Thanks."

"May I see your tickets, please?" The boys handed them over, and she ripped them in half. Giving half a ticket back to each boy, she said, "Be sure to keep your stubs, okay? They'll get you half-price admission to the Beast House museum over on Front Street."

"Is it any good?" asked the larger boy. He was tall and gawky, with stringy brown hair that fell past his shoulders. Dark blue sunglasses hid his eyes. He wore a T-shirt that read HOWARD STERN-KING OF ALL MEDIA.

"It's a must," Dana told him. "A lot of the actual stuff is over there. Like some of the real clothes the victims were wearing-all shredded and bloody."

"Oh, cool," said the Howard fan.

"Way cool," said his buddy, a short and chubby fellow wearing a Beavis and Butthead T-shirt.

"You guys are gonna love this stuff," Dana said, then turned away to take down a couple of tape players.

"I love it already," the Howard fan said.

His friend cackled.

Dana turned around. "Here you go, fellas." She gave them the players. "Hang these around your necks by the orange straps. It's a self-guided tour. The tapes are all rewound and ready to go. Just wait till you get to the front porch."

"Where that stiffs hanging?"

The Beavis and Butthead fan cackled and blurted, "Stiff! He said stiff!"

Dana laughed and shook her head. "Right. That's Station Number One, where the stiff is hung."

"Hung, hung, hung!"

"When you get there," Dana said, "go ahead and press the Play button. That's this one right here." With her forefinger extended, she touched the oblong button on top of the Howard fan's player. "And this is the Stop button." She pointed it out on his friend's player. "After the porch, you go on inside and proceed from station to station. The tape will always tell you what to do."

"I know what I want to do. Heh-heh."

"Right," Dana said. "Maybe some other time. Anyway, feel free to take as long as you wish with the tour. When you're finished, just bring the tape players back to me."

"Back to you! Back to you!"

"Please excuse my pal," the Stem fan said. "He's a retard."

"Everything's cool, guys. Just have a good time in there. And don't let the beast get you."

Side by side, the boys walked away from Dana, nodding, nudging each other with elbows, glancing back at her and grinning.

"You're a natural, babe."

Surprised, Dana turned around and found Tuck smiling at her from the corner of the ticket booth.

"Hey, how's it going, boss?"

"Better and better. You were great with those guys."

"Horny teenagers are my specialty."

Tuck laughed. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better."

"You look fine now. Looks like all you needed was some fresh air."

"I'm really sorry I crapped out on you."

"No problem. About ready to grab yourself some lunch?"