My husband shoved me, shattering the bathroom mirror. His mother sneered, “Clean up this disgusting mess.” But as I fell, my husband roared, “What’s in your pocket?!” The red LED of my federal distress fob pulsed. Denied the third click, I threw myself onto the broken glass, and…

teleport through the walls. I had to survive the intervening hours.

I thought they would leave me alone until morning. I was wrong.

It was barely past midnight when the lock clicked open again. The house below was eerily quiet; the guests had long since departed. Vance stood in the doorway, but he wasn’t alone. Behind him stood Mr. Thorne, a gaunt, reptilian continue reading …