Freeze!” A voice boomed through the room from the entryway. “Police!”
I turned around to see the officers slowly walking into the room, guns drawn, and exhaled deeply. I let down my guard just for a moment, turned away just for a second—we all must have. Because as quickly as that, Mercy was gone. It only took an instant for me to realize Amity was with her. That evil monster had my daughter.
Before the police could stop me, I rushed into the open passageway door.
In the darkness, I could see nothing beyond the dusty, spidery tapestry on the walls, but I thundered down the inky passageway all the same.
“Amity!” I shouted. “Amity, call out to me! I’m coming!”
I stopped, listening closely, trying to figure out which way they went, but heard nothing, only my own words echoing down the seemingly empty tunnels.
And then a singsong verse permeated the silence. “The witch in the wood comes out to play …”
My stomach tightened. “Mercy, you’re not frightening me!” I shouted. “Honey, I’m coming for you!”
I ran at full speed, just making out Matthew’s voice, calling my name, faint, in the background. But all I could think about was Amity.
My old senses of these tunnels shifted into high gear—I didn’t need a flashlight, I didn’t need any electricity—I knew where I was going on instinct. I was sure Mercy felt the same; this was her world, her lair. Twisting and turning we went, me shouting the whole time—“I’m here! I’m following you!”—until I was sure we were making our way toward the false basement room. The police would have no idea which way to go and would be far behind. It was up to me.
I crashed through the door to the secret room and flipped on the light to find Mercy standing near the sofa, the knife with which she had tried to kill Jane at my daughter’s throat.
Mercy was smiling a serene and staid smile, while Amity’s face was filled with fear.
“Amity,” I said to her quietly, calmly. “Look at me. Don’t be afraid. She feeds on fear.”
“Come devil, come imp, come monstrous thing / That hides underground in the day,” Mercy sang, the knife twirling in slow circles at my daughter’s throat.
“Mom!” Amity whispered. I held her gaze. On the wall behind her and behind Mercy, I also saw shadows.
“Come alive this night and give them a fright / When the wood witch comes out to play.”
Whether it was my family there to support me or some other, darker force, something overtook me at that moment and I rushed forward with as much hate and anger and determination as I had ever had. All these emotions fueled me as I planted my hands around Mercy’s throat and fell on her. The knife clattered to the ground as I heard her head hit the floor with a thud. I squeezed hard.
“Run, Amity!” I shouted. “Get back upstairs!”
“Come devil, come imp, come monstrous thing / That hides underground in the day,” Mercy coughed and sputtered, her eyes becoming fiery red. I didn’t care. No matter what evil lay within her, I would not let her hurt my daughter.
“You’re the only monstrous thing here tonight, Mercy,” I growled, my grip tightening on her throat, my arms growing strong with the support of generations before me. “This ends now.”
I saw the twinkling, the laughter in her eyes. “You’re right, Grace,” she sang. “It does.”
And then I felt myself rising up and crashing down onto the floor, Mercy on top of me. Now it was her hands around my throat, and I was powerless to stop whatever was going to happen. I could feel them tighten, more and more.
“How did you think you would ever get the best of me?” She laughed, and her grip loosened, just a bit. Through a cloud, I saw the knife raised in her other hand. I could feel I was losing consciousness, falling prey to the lack of oxygen she was forcing on me.
“No, you don’t!” I heard my daughter’s voice, far away in the distance, and saw Mercy fall to the side. Amity shoved her with all her might. There was a clattering, then, and scuffling for the knife. I grabbed for it and got the blade, its edge cutting into my hand. I didn’t care. I turned it around and grasped the handle and slashed upward, connecting with something soft.
Mercy’s face was a mix of disbelief and humor. “You can’t kill me, my dear,” she whispered.
I pulled back and, with all of my might, plunged the blade deeply into her chest. “I think I just did.”