NAUSEA SWEPT through Bobby’s gut as he drove Kaori and Randy toward what might very well be their doom—a hard thing to determine when his ability to perceive misfortune had fled his mind.

He wondered if he was making a grave error by playing into Thane’s hands. He couldn’t trick the man since Thane could read into his very thoughts and anticipate all of Bobby’s actions in advance. When he’d met Thane in the nursing home the previous summer, Thane had been unable to harm Bobby using his thoughts, but now Thane was as able-bodied as he.

Nothing would be able to stop him.

Father, he prayed, is it better if we leave Carly and Matt to die?

Kaori rode in the passenger seat with her eyes closed, probably meditating. Bobby wished he could take the opportunity to do that. He wasn’t that afraid of dying, not anymore, at least; but it would probably hurt, and pain wasn’t on too many people’s lists of favorite things.

Not to mention the fact neither he nor Kaori had lined up replacements for themselves. Because if the death of a single Servant could ignite wars, what would happen if the world lost two of them?

The Spirit didn’t give him any verbal reply, but he did relax a bit. He would have to just trust that everything would end up okay in the end as it usually did. Kaori was right—he did have a decent track record. Nothing so far had indicated that Bobby wouldn’t win again.

But like with most of the battles he had fought, he couldn’t expect to come out of this one without any casualties.

The GPS on Randy’s phone instructed him to head north on Interstate 5. A salt truck with attached snowplow rumbled past them as he merged onto the highway. It became difficult to see as the snow continued to fall in the growing twilight. It swirled and danced and gusted, and started to cake on his wiper blades even though he had them on full blast.

“Take it easy there,” Randy said from the backseat as the speedometer crept past sixty. “There’s no point in causing an accident.”

Bobby dutifully reduced his speed to fifty: fifteen miles per hour below the posted speed limit. His teeth started chattering, and not just from the cold. Why did his calm have to wear off at the first sign of danger? “We’re still coming, Thane,” he said aloud. “It’s just going to take us a little while.”

“WOULD YOU like some more wine, dear?” asked Meryl, the Bagdasarians’ mostly-reticent housekeeper who had dutifully prepared a lavish meal for six: Carly and Matt, Thane and Mia, and Thane’s parents John and Shirley, who had introduced themselves to Carly and Matt upon their arrival as if nothing in the world were amiss.

“Yes, thank you,” Carly said, and hated Mia for it.

Prior to the start of the meal, Mia instructed everyone to get along well and be civil to each other, to savor all food and drink, and to most certainly not try to escape. So there Carly sat, along with everyone else, in what was proving to be the most awkward dinner party to which she’d ever been witness.

Meryl poured a second helping of high-end cabernet sauvignon into Carly’s empty glass before gliding out of the room. Carly hated to think of how much the wine had cost. Probably a normal person’s weekly salary. Everything in this house looked too expensive to touch—even the walls and ceilings were sculpted and molded and adorned with artwork unfamiliar to herself. She was sure her wine glass was made of crystal, and the china dishes on which their meal was served would have looked far safer behind glass in a museum.

Carly lifted the wine glass against her will and poured back a hearty sip. She could feel it buzzing in her veins like a magical potion. Carly did not consider herself a teetotaler, but she only partook of alcohol on special occasions, and even then she certainly didn’t drink this much all at once. Mia’s powers were going to give her a hangover if Carly didn’t find a way to break free of them.

“So, Carly,” Shirley said, acting the part of gracious host even though she was under Mia’s spell as well, “what is it that you do?”

Carly cleared her throat. Thane’s sixtyish mother was built like an aging supermodel. She wore a stylish black blouse and skirt and jewelry that probably cost as much as Carly’s parents’ house, and Carly couldn’t have felt any more out of place in the woman’s presence than if she’d been a toad.

“I counsel people who used to be possessed,” Carly said matter-of-factly even though she yearned with every atom of her being that she could force herself to shut up. “I help them work through some of their problems.”

“Isn’t that fascinating?” Shirley said, turning to her husband, who had already devoured an entire Cornish hen and a towering mound of mashed potatoes and gravy—he hadn’t yet started on the asparagus and hollandaise. “I didn’t know possession was real. Did you?”

John Bagdasarian shook his head and took a swig of his own wine. “It’s a strange world, Shirley,” he said once he’d swallowed, then hiccupped. “A strange world indeed.”

Mia sat at the head of the table, resting her chin on her hand. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she observed the whole exchange. Carly wished she could throw her wine glass at the woman so it could wipe that evil little smirk off of her face, but she was no longer in control of her movements.

She wondered if this is what being possessed felt like. Mia had turned her and the others into puppets, and for what reason? Just to get some enjoyment from watching them? Had to be. She and Thane could just have easily shut her and Matt in some isolated room while they awaited Bobby and Kaori’s arrival.

Thane himself had leaned his head back in the tall dining room chair and closed his eyes in contentment. He was probably reading Carly’s thoughts right now and laughing inside like a madman.

Then Thane’s eyes snapped open. “I’m sure there are better things to discuss than demonic possession.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Mia asked. “You’re the one living in accord with a demon. It seems a most fascinating topic of discussion.”

Thane’s cheeks flushed. “If I am, then so are you.”

Mia laughed. “I already told you I’m not. My gift is my own. I don’t need demons to help me.”

“I used to drive demons out of people,” Matt said as he stabbed at a cooked carrot. “It was important work, but I can’t say I miss it. It takes a lot out of a man. Gave me nightmares, too.”

Thane glared at him, then at Mia. “Why don’t we talk about something else while we wait for our guests to arrive?”

“We could talk about you.” Mia flashed him a little smile. “About how humiliating it must have been to crap your own pants for twenty years because you couldn’t control your bowels.”

Thane rose and started to lunge at her, but Mia just laughed and said, “Sit down.”

Thane sat.

“You know I’m just messing with you,” Mia went on. “That must have been a terrible thing to live through. I wouldn’t wish paralysis on anyone.”

“I saw him in the nursing home a few months ago,” Carly said. “He didn’t look very happy. I think he would have been better off staying with his parents. No offense to anyone,” she said, nodding toward the elder Bagdasarians.

“None taken, dear,” Shirley said. “And besides, it wasn’t our idea to put him away at Arbor Villa. It was Vance’s.”

Something clattered. Thane had picked up his fork and dropped it back onto his plate with a piece of asparagus still attached to it. “What do you mean, Vance gave you that idea?” he asked his mother. “You’re talking about the security man who works here?”

“He’s the groundskeeper, too, if you’ll remember,” Shirley said. “Your grandparents had just hired him on here when you had your accident. He told us it would be a burden on our family to have you cooped up at home. Arbor Villa has some of the best care for its residents in the state. He said you’d be in good hands.”

Thane’s face darkened to a dangerous hue. “And you just listened to him? What was he to you?”

“He was and always has been a huge help to our family,” Shirley said. “And he was right. It would have been too painful to keep you with us and watch you waste away in that wheelchair. It was better to put you out of sight to spare us the sorrow.”

“You’re—you’re lying. I’ve read your minds. I would have known about this before now.”

“She isn’t lying,” John said. “It’s funny, though. I hadn’t even remembered until now that Vance was the one who suggested we send you away.”

“Me neither,” Shirley said. She took a sip of wine and dabbed at her lips with a cloth napkin.

Thane’s hands clenched into fists. Apparently Mia’s command to remain civil didn’t apply to him. “Why would you even listen to someone like Vance? He’s just hired help. He’s nobody.”

Shirley and John gave him glassy stares. Matt coughed a few times and folded his arms. “Your parents obviously trusted this Vance’s judgment,” he said.

A vein pulsed in Thane’s temple. “I don’t even know the man. Why would he even think to tell them that? What would it be to him?” His eyes darted to each of the people seated at the table, and when nobody had an answer, he said, “Well?”

“We don’t know,” Carly said even though she hadn’t wanted to say anything. “We’re just as clueless as you.”

Thane banged a fist on the table so hard that his own glass of cabernet sauvignon toppled over, sending a purple puddle spreading across the white tablecloth. He stood up, shoved his chair back from the table, and stormed from the room.

“That was unexpected,” Mia said once he’d gone. She popped an after-dinner mint into her mouth and sat up straighter in her seat. “Everybody stay here. I’m going to see what he’s up to.”

She vanished through the same doorway through which Thane had exited. Carly and Matt exchanged uneasy glances. “I can’t move my legs,” Carly whispered.

Matt frowned. “Neither can I.”

INSTEAD OF taking the more roundabout way of following the curving lane, Thane trudged through the falling snow in a direct line toward Vance Peterson’s house, where lights glowed behind the distant ground-floor windows. He sent his thoughts outward as far as they would reach, but he could no longer detect the man as he had upon his arrival at the estate. Had he skipped town without warning? Why would he do such a thing?

The wind nipped at his nose and ears as he blundered past tree trunks and through a gully, almost turning his ankle in the accumulating snow. He had to know what had possessed Vance to make his parents turn on him. Did he have some kind of mind-controlling powers like Mia? Is that what had convinced them to shut him away like a corpse?

“Thane! What are you doing?” a voice called behind him. Thane gnashed his teeth together in irritation. Couldn’t she let him do this one thing alone?

He slipped in the snow ascending a short incline and landed on his hands and knees. The sound of Mia’s panting breaths came up behind him as he struggled to his feet and brushed the snow from his palms onto his pants. “What exactly do you want?” he spat at her as he finally made it to Vance’s front walk and traipsed onto the porch.

Mia jogged to keep up with his longer strides. “I said I want to help you.”

He wheeled on her in the glow of the porch light, and she took an involuntary step backward. Flecks of snow dotted her dark hair, and her eyes were wide. Not surprisingly, she hadn’t worn a coat.

“I fail to see how you’ve been any real help to me,” he said. “Your plans haven’t worked.”

“I never said I was perfect.”

Thane turned away from her, disgusted, and tried Vance’s front doorknob.

It wasn’t locked.

Thane pushed the door inward and stepped into Vance’s living room. He’d been inside the dwelling a few times as a child when the old caretakers had lived here, and to his surprise it didn’t look much different now. The old grandfather clock leaned against the wall as it always had, a forest green couch sat across from the fireplace, and a wooden coffee table was home to a stack of Time magazines.

Frowning, he picked the topmost magazine off the stack that bore a picture of Bob Dole on the cover. It was dated July 1995.

Thane’s skin prickled. Something wasn’t right, here. It was like he’d just walked back in time twenty years. He half expected to see Virgil and Millicent, who took care of the property for his grandparents, walk in from the kitchen and offer him a warm hello.

“What’s the matter?” Mia asked, her interest piqued. “Don’t like vintage magazines?”

“The caretakers who lived here when I was a teenager had a subscription to Time magazine. They always had a stack of them sitting right here.”

“So?”

He waved the magazine at her. “They retired twenty years ago. This issue is from twenty years ago.”

Mia bit her lip. “Okay, maybe that is a little bit odd. But what does it matter? Why are you trying to find Vance?”

“So I can kill him.”

To his surprise, Mia blanched. “You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can.”

“But Vance never hurt you. He just gave your parents some bad advice.”

Thane laughed, but it bore no humor. “That ‘bad advice’ led me to be shut away in a home with senile housewives who couldn’t even remember their own names. You’d want him dead, too.”

“He’s going to hear you and call the cops.”

Thane was surprised Mia started to show cold feet—perhaps she wasn’t as tough as she’d made herself appear. “Don’t worry; he isn’t here. I was hoping to wait for him to come back and kill him then.” Although since Vance was currently out of Thane’s range, it could have been hours before the man showed.

Mia cleared her throat. “Did you forget about Bobby? He’ll probably be coming soon if he gives a crap about his friends.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“How are you going to kill him if you’re out here waiting for Vance?”

“Did you forget I told you that my parents will be the ones to physically take care of Bobby? The moment they see him, they’ll be compelled to take him out. I’ve been feeding them those thoughts for days. Then I can call the police on them reporting a murder, and they can get to learn what it’s like living in a cell for years without end.”