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She couldn’t understand what she was hearing. But without any hesitation the figure held the container over her head and emptied it all over her. It splashed all over her hair and her face, and drenched her sleep-T. She couldn’t stop herself from gasping.
    The figure tossed the empty container across the kitchen. Then he nodded curtly to his companion, and the two of them bent down on either side of her. They gripped the kitchen chair and heaved it up until Lily was sitting on top of the island.
    â€œWhat are you going to do to me?” asked Lily. High up like this, she felt even more vulnerable.
    â€œWell, you’re a witch, and this is the prescribed way for dealing with witches. As close as I could manage, anyhow. These modern homes—they may have all the modern built-in accessories, but not too many of them can boast a stake for the burning of witches, can they?”
    The other figure had temporarily disappeared, but he returned only a few moments later carrying a green plastic gasoline can. Lily could hear the gasoline sloshing inside it.
    â€œOh God,” she said.
    â€œWell, it might be a good idea to ask for the Lord’s forgiveness, in your final moments.”
    â€œOh God, you’re not going to burn me. Please don’t burn me. I’d rather you shot me.”
    â€œThat’d be kind of difficult since I don’t carry a gun of any kind and neither does my friend here.”
    â€œThen for God’s sake strangle me. But please don’t burn me. I couldn’t stand to be burned.”
    â€œI gather it’s pretty damned painful, for sure. But the pain you’ve caused, Mrs. Blake, don’t you think you deserve it?”
    Lily tried to appeal to him again, but she was so terrified that she began to hyperventilate and she couldn’t get the words out. She watched with dread as the figure unscrewed the cap of the gasoline container and began steadily to pour it all over the floor around the kitchen island, and splash the sides of the island itself. The reek of gasoline was overwhelming, and the air was distorted by its fumes, as if everything around her were a mirage.
    At last, she heard a woman say,
“Please
—don’t do this.” To her surprise, it was her. She was amazed that she sounded so reasonable and detached—almost as if a separate Lily Blake were pleading on her behalf. “If Jeff sent you . . . if Jeff has a problem with custody . . . I’m sure that we can work something out. I can talk to my lawyer first thing in the morning.”
    The figure with the demon’s horns said nothing, but backed away from the island, toward the kitchen door, while his companion crouched alongside him, pouring a trail of gasoline across the tiles.
    â€œYou won’t get away with this,” Lily insisted. “And if Jeff sent you, neither will Jeff.”
    The two figures reached the kitchen door and stepped outside, into the hallway. The figure with the demon’s horns took out a cheap flip-top cigarette lighter and flicked it into flame. It dipped and guttered and made his transparent plastic mask look as if he were grinning.
    â€œYou’re making a serious mistake here,” Lily warned him.

C HAPTER T WO
    There was no explosion, only the softest of
whoomphs
. Orange flames ran across the floor and then jumped up all around her, like blazing clowns. She felt a wave of heat that seared her face and shriveled the hairs in her nostrils.
    The fire burned with soundless ferocity. Within a few seconds it had consumed almost all of the oxygen within the circle of flames that surrounded her. She gasped for breath, but the gases she inhaled were so hot that she had to clamp her mouth shut, and keep it shut. She could smell her hair burning, and she could see the skin on her forearms starting to redden.
    Sergeant was barking now, and throwing himself up against the utility-room door. Lily was fully aware of what was happening to