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die, a time that nothing could change, one way or the other? Or was death just something that happened, willy-nilly, with no rhyme or reason?
    She sighed in annoyance, then turned and fluffed her pillow. Those kinds of thoughts confused her. She dropped her head back onto the pillow and drew the covers up around her.
    Brick jumped onto the bed and began kneading his paws against the comforter.
    Marilyn was glad to have his company. After all that had happened, she didn’t want to be alone. Lulled by the low rumble of the cat’s purr, she began to drift toward sleep. But as she did, her rebellious mind began to replay the horror of finding Zenobia’s corpse, and all the strange things that had happened in her aunt’s room.
    After several minutes of tossing and turning, Marilyn sat up and looked around her familiar room. Every shadow seemed filled with danger. She pulled Brick to her chest and held him close.
    What am I going to do? she wondered. Aunt Zenobia wants me to be brave. But right now I’m scared out of my mind .
    She thought, briefly, about telling her mother about the things she had heard in Aunt Zenobia’s room. But she had been chastised too many times for her “wild imaginings” to think she would get any sympathy for this story.
    No, for now she was on her own.
    Unless you counted Aunt Zenobia.
    To Marilyn’s enormous relief her parents didn’t force her to go to school. Unfond as they had been of Zenobia themselves, they recognized their daughter’s grief and allowed her to stay home to deal with it.
    She spent the morning helping her mother make a list of relatives who had to be called. Later they went through Zenobia’s clothing and picked out the outfit she would be buried in. The idea startled Marilyn; it had never before occurred to her that someone actually had to do these things.
    After lunch she accompanied her father to Flannigan’s and helped him choose an elaborate mahogany coffin. That had pleased Marilyn. She thought the coffin was beautiful, and that Zenobia would have liked it.
    Somewhere in her mind she was vaguely aware of her father’s concern about Zenobia’s will. The house they lived in had been hers, after all, and now it would belong to someone else. Possibly them, possibly not. Even Marilyn had to admit that her beloved aunt had been eccentric enough that she might have left the place to anyone. It could well turn out that they had to move.
    She shoved the thought to the back of her mind. It was too much to deal with right now.
    So the day was sad, but bearable. Things didn’t turn terrifying until the middle of that night, when Marilyn woke to find Brick lying on her chest.
    When she stirred, the big cat opened his eyes. They were blazing red.
    Then he spoke.
    â€œGet the amulet!”
    His voice sounded like two rough stones rubbing together.
    Marilyn screamed and flung the cat from the bed. He yowled once, a sharp, horrifying sound. Then, looking oddly empty, he crouched by the baseboard, staring pathetically up at her.
    Marilyn buried her face in her pillow and began to cry.
    What was going on here?
    An hour later, when the light began to creep over the edge of her window, she wondered if the incident with Brick had been a dream.
    The last twenty-four hours had been like a dream anyway, a period she had moved through like a marionette, walking, talking, but all the time feeling as though someone else were pulling her strings. The feeling came not because she felt she was being forced to do things she didn’t want to, but simply because she felt too weak to do anything on her own.
    She heard Geoff singing in the shower and heaved herself out of bed. Knowing her parents, it was unlikely she would be allowed another day off from school.
    She looked around. Brick was nowhere to be seen.
    She shivered. Had he really talked to her?
    Or was she just losing her mind?
    She threw on her robe and went to pound on the bathroom