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to prevent such scenes, but someone must have cornered Wilfred. James went on, “As a dramatic conclusion to the party, Wilfred Addison the Fourth, Evelyn’s pride and joy, put his very drunk twenty-seven-year-old self behind the wheel of his car, pushed hard on the accelerator, and rammed into the rear of Harmon Siders’s Ford—his first new car in fifteen years.
    “Harmon had been bidding his host good night at the door, but when he saw what had happened he came roaring down the porch steps threatening to beat the living daylights out of young Will. The way he moved, you would have never guessed Harmon is in his eighties. He bashed his cane twice on Will’s door before anyone could stop him. Young Master Will just sat cowering in the car looking like a little boy waiting for his mother to rescue him.”
    By now, Catherine had bent forward, lost in laughter and completely free of her self-consciousness, which she knew had been James’s intention. “My God,” she gasped. “Mom wanted to spend last Christmas in Baltimore with her only sister and I’m glad we did that for her, but I’m sorry I missed all the fun at the annual Addison party!”
    “I noticed you weren’t there,” James said casually. “I only came because Dad insisted. I didn’t even bring a date. I was sort of hoping I might happen to meet up with you. Of course, you would have had a date, but maybe you would have taken pity on a poor, lonely guy who had to come to a party with his parents. I felt like a fifteen-year-old….” James’s voice trailed off. He gently lifted his foot from the accelerator, carefully slowing the car on the icy road, and leaned forward, peering grimly through the snow-smeared windshield.
    Catherine frowned, seeing the blurry flash of lights. She asked in a small voice full of dread, “What’s wrong?”
    “Damn this weather!” James swore softly. “There’s been a wreck.”

Chapter 2
    1
    Wake up, sleepyhead. I’ve made blueberry pancakes. Your father and Catherine will eat all of them if you don’t get out of bed and run to the kitchen.
    “Run…run to kitchen. Pancakes. Have to run—”
    Marissa tried to roll off the bed, but something held her tightly at the waist. When she struggled, the pressure increased. Slowly she opened her eyes to a strange world where white confetti fell all around her. She blinked several times and peered through the confetti. Beams of blurry light revealed tall columns with thin white arms reaching into the night. She let out a whimper of rising hysteria as she saw what seemed to be strings circling around her, moving swiftly, scraping against the windows, wrapping her in an icy cobweb cage.
    “No! No! No! ”
    Marissa slapped her hands over her mouth, cutting off what she somehow knew were useless screams. Quiet. She must be quiet, she told herself. She must be quiet and think. Her father’s words came back to her: Reason is always more useful than panic. How many times had he repeated that wisdom to her and Catherine? Enough for Marissa to remember it now.
    She closed her eyes and tried to draw deep breaths, but she could only take in small breaths of the cold, stinging air. After a few moments, Marissa opened her eyes and forced herself to stare at the strings she’d thought were entwining her in a cage of ice. They weren’t strings—they were long, skinny tree twigs and lengthy bare vines. A strong gust of wind set them wildly flaying her car and lashing at the windows as if they wanted entrance. The noise was unsettling, but Marissa managed to keep her nerves somewhat steady, although she still didn’t know where she was or what had happened.
    Marissa dropped her hands from her face to her lap, where they landed on a piece of limp but strong white nylon or plastic. Several spots of dark liquid splattered the material, one drop falling as she watched. She ran a sore tongue around the inside of her mouth and tasted coppery liquid. It had also spread warm and plentiful