Dance with the Devil

States. We teach our children that the devil is little to be feared and that all those other things-werewolves and vampires and so forth-are only real in the movies.”
        He had crossed the room as she spoke and stood by the carved door. “I understand,” he said. “And please try to understand me, too. I was not attempting to frighten you, but was merely presenting what seemed to be good advice. Will you lock your door when you retire?”
        Reluctantly, she said, “Yes.”
        He smiled, pleased with even this small concession, and said, “Excellent! Goodnight, Miss Sellers.”
        He was gone in a moment, closing the heavy door behind him, leaving her alone for the first time since she had entered Owlsden.
        Katherine sat on the edge of her bed and looking into the full-length mirror that rested on its stand only half a dozen feet away, surveyed her appearance. She realized that her expression was drawn and haggard, the corners of her mouth turned down and touched with doubt. She looked as if she had actually been terrified by Yuri's nonsense and would spend every night in Owlsden shivering in expectation of a vampire fluttering close by her window. She suddenly laughed; the figure in the mirror laughed too. Seeing her smile reflected, she felt a great deal better.
        As she prepared for bed, she had time to consider the little scene that had so recently been played out before the window in this room, and she began to wonder if Yuri had motives beyond those that he claimed. He was obviously well educated and it was exceedingly difficult to believe that he was as superstitious a man as he pretended to be.
        But what other motivation could he have? Did he mean to frighten her? If so, why?
        When she was ready for bed, she found that her ruminations had driven away all desire for sleep. Her eyes felt as if they were pinned open and lacquered in position.
        She opened her suitcases and unpacked them, hung her clothes in the two large closets and folded others away in the drawers of the hutch and the triple chest.
        When she finished unpacking, she went to the window and stared out at the snow and the distant woods where, Yuri insisted, the devil's dance had taken place. It all seemed unreal.
        She went to bed, slid beneath the covers, and reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. Darkness flooded into the room, deep and complete at first, then slowly lightening as the less-dark night sent pale, questing fingers of light through the uncurtained windows.
        Everything was going to be fine, she decided. The job was perfect. She liked both Lydia and Alex Boland and as a change from the things she had known previously, she liked the almost embarrassing luxury of Owlsden. The future could not be brighter. Except… except, what had Yuri been trying to tell her, and why had he really felt it necessary that she keep her door locked at night…?

CHAPTER 4
        
        She sat straight up in bed, her heart thumping in her chest like a quickly-beating drum. She blinked her eyes at the intense darkness until she remembered where she was. The bedside clock, in glowing numerals, read 2:10. She did not know what had awakened her, but she knew it must have been a loud noise to have cut through the deep and peaceful sleep she had been enjoying.
        Pushing the covers away, she got out of bed, stepped into her slippers and went to the window.
        The snow was falling as hard as before and had covered everything in a soft, woolly blanket. Here and there, the wind had drifted the snow forming curiously lovely curves and sweeps of whiteness.
        The night, but for the relentless wind and the hiss of snow on the windows, seemed as still as a graveyard. Certainly, there were no prancing cultists around a bonfire…
        Suddenly she heard something: like a man groaning… just beyond her shoulder, groaning in pain.
        She recognized now the sound that had awakened her. It was hollow, bled by the susurration of the wind against the house, but still chillingly threatening.
        Turning away from the window, she tried to place it, decided that it was coming from the corridor rather than the night beyond the glass.
        As she walked toward the door, she recalled Yuri's concerned admonition to keep her door locked and to avoid going out of her room during the night hours, and she wondered, only briefly, if this strange moaning sound