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The room was silent Clara desperately wanted to reach out and take Myrna’s hand, but she dared notwould focus its attention on her

Then she heard it They all heard it

Footsteps

The turning of a doorknob

Sohtened puppy

Then suddenly a horrible pounding split the silence Aat hers from both sides She found the over and over, ‘Bless O Lord this food to our use, and ourselves to Thy service Let us be ever mindful of the needs of others Amen’

‘Let me in,’ a voice outside their world wailed

‘Oh, God, it’s an angry spirit,’ said Myrna ‘It’s your fault,’ she said to Gabri, ide-eyed and terrified

‘Fuck,’ wailed the disembodied voice ‘Fuuuuck’

Apane rattled and a horrible face appeared at the glass The circle gasped and recoiled

‘For Christ’s sake, Dorothy, I know you’re in there,’ screained would be the last words she’d hear on earth She’d always thought they’d be, ‘What were you thinking?’

Gabri rose, tre the sign of the cross with his fingers ‘It’s the pre-dead’

At the ave hin of the cross

Peter stared at the work on the easel His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened It orse than he’d expected, worse than he’d feared, and Peter feared big Before him stood Clara’s latest work, the one she’d soon show Denis Fortin, the influential gallery owner in Montreal So far Clara had struggled in obscurity creating her nearly unintelligible works of art At least, they were unintelligible to Peter

Then suddenly out of nowhere Denis Fortin had knocked on their door Peter was certain the distinguished dealer, with contacts throughout the art world, had come to see hily detailed paintings sold for thousands and sat on the finest walls in Canada Peter had naturally shown Fortin into his studio only to be politely told that his works were nice but it was actually Clara Morrow the dealer wanted to see