You are lying naked and exposed, sky blue bed linens mussed and tangled in your legs, when I manifest myself in your room. I cast an appraising glance...at the crucifix hanging on the wall by the door, assessing its power. I know instantly that the cheap oak has never felt the touch of holy water, that the cracked and varnished plastic form of Jesus in His suffering has never had those secret, powerful words muttered over it, that it is a mere decoration and not a talisman with any power against. Price looked the room over as if she were planning on moving in (which Amelia supposed she very well might be), leaning as far as she could to peer down hallways and up staircases visible through open doors. They talked about nothing at all for a minute before Amelia finally came to what was her mind. Ms. Price, she said, what was the name of that family who built this house? You mean the Devereuxs? Thats right, but do you remember any of their first names? Or anything about them? Ms. Price was. More

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