The wind rose in violent fury, beating against

the glass doors as if something outside were trying

to force its way in. The strange and delicate music

of a harp vibrated through the room and the sick-

eningly sweet scent of lavender rose from every

corner of the darkness. Amanda trembled and in-

stinctively clung to David. But the grip that held

her had suddenly turned vise-like and fiendish.

Her arms were pinned to her sides, her body

crushed down painfully into the bed.

Amanda tried to scream, but no sound could

be forced through her lips. She tried to call out

David s name, but suddenly she was unable to

breathe. Devilish laughter surrounded her. In the

pitch black darkness and confusion, the glass door

blew open. Crashing against the walls, they splint-

ered into a thousand pieces.

"The third Mrs. Whitcomb..." a hollow voice

cried. "The other two before you, strangled in

their beds... "

Then she heard the shrill, bone-chilling sound

of someone screaming, calling out for help. But

there was none...