What she planned to do now could very well kill him…and yet, some irrefutable inner voice said she must try. At eight o’clock, she sat him by the corner window. His breathing was better, for he was coming around to the kind of sleep that she considered normal. She fetched Beth, Vincent’s warning that Justin could die if he didn’t get his medicine on time stalking her like the robed being of her nightmare. For Beth, Faith tried to remain calm. “Here we are,” she said as they came into Justin’s room. “I have a surprise for you.” Beth wiggled her hand from Faith’s and ran about. She stood on tiptoes to examine the washstand and nearly came away with the strop. She looked beneath the massive four-poster and crawled right under. She poked her finger into the warm soft wax at the base of a candle and happily peeled it away. If Justin could see her now. Both anxious and fearful, Faith sat beside him and took his hand. “Over here, Beth,” she called, and Justin shuddered to such a degree that Faith felt his shiver in her hand, his grasp growing strong. Justin struggled to free himself as he lay fettered, ankle and wrist, at the bottom of hell, while miles above him, Vincent tossed Beth over the edge of a cliff. In horror, he watched his daughter hurtle toward him. Through the air she tumbled.
