He is tall and thin. His hair is white, drawn tightly back from a face that is nothing but a skull over which skin has been drawn.
"Catherine," he says.
He smiles but it is like no smile she has ever seen, bloodless lips stretching evilly to become a terrifying display of sharp, white teeth. He steps slowly forward and raises a pallid arm. His hand is little more than bone and gristle and in it, he holds a sword that drips with scarlet blood.
Kathryn screams and screams, and suddenly the attic door crashes open. Matthew is on the landing just outside and she throws herself, sobbing, into his arms.
He holds her close, then shoves her behind him, towards the steps.
"Run, Cat," he says.
"Matthew," she cries, "don't go in there!"
Matthew's hand is in the small of her back, pushing her. She stumbles away from him.
"Did you hear me? " he roars. "Run, Catherine, and don't look back!"
The attic door slams, she hears the click of the bolt in the lock Matthew has shut himself in with whatever is up there.
Kathryn flies down the stairs, all the way down until she is inside the drawing room. She slams the door, locks it and presses herself against it, arms outstretched, adding the weight of her body to the barrier.
"Matthew," she sobs.
She listens, but there is no sound beyond the rasp of her own breath. After a long, long time, she slumps to the floor and waits.
When she hears the sound of footsteps outside the door, she rises slowly, her body and hands pressed to the wood.
"Matthew? " she whispers.
"Cat. Open the door."
She knows his voice. She has known it, within her soul, from the day she was born. With a sob, she undoes the lock, flings the door open, and falls into his arms.
"It's all right," he says, and holds her close. "Cat, beloved, it's all right now."
"That—that thing..."
"Don't think about it, sweet."
She shudders and clings tightly to him, seeking solace in the warmth of his body, the security of his embrace.
"What was it? " she whispers.
Matthew strokes her hair, soothing her as if she were a kitten.
"It doesn't matter."
"How did you get away from it? " She presses her hands against his chest and leans back in his embrace. "I was afraid it would kill you! "
He smiles down at her.
"Were you?"
"Yes. Oh yes. It was so—so evil!"
"Catherine." He lifts her tenderly in his arms and carries her to the settee. He sits down, still holding her, and brings her head to his shoulder. "Close your eyes now, and sleep."
She gives a little hiccup of a laugh.