The gun popped in Diana's hand, and Carol's head jerked. She fell back. "When your family first came here, they burned all the locals' farms. They were trying to stay out of the war. Your ancestor's men raped and pillaged. She nudged Carol, "Your people brought in the New Money. They pillaged the town too, and the drugs seeped in, under Rutger's watch."

"Diana," Henry's daze finally lifted, "this is your fault! You have to have it your way!" He looked at Carol, "All this over a feud. You think this place is yours and everyone in it. It cost you. Our son, our daughter, they're gone." He wiped away tears, "I will have nothing to do with you. I hate you!" Henry walked past her towards the door.

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyes jittered.

"I'm leaving you. You can have it all," he sobbed. "There is nothing here I want!" Henry walked past her.

"No," she said, but he walked. "I said stop!" Diana's voice rose to a shrill screech. The gun popped in her hand, and he staggered a step, straightened his tie. Before Henry could take more than a step, the gun fired until it only clicked. "No one leave me," Diana's eyes widened, sweat rolled down a haggard face.

Henry held his head high, staggered, took another step, and then fell dead upon the hardwood floor. Marie let out a little scream, as their eyes met. As the last breath passed between slack lips, the ground beneath them shook. Broad strokes of lightning now only struck the top of Lear Mountain. All upon it staggered with each report. Still air of the room was filled with the coppery tang of blood and gunpowder. The last walls crumbled in spots to allow Shades and Rutger's men through to the ground just outside the house.

Brilliance from the lightning slashed through the glass. Upon her face it fell, Diana's gaze still locked on Henry. "This is not the end," she swore, and her eyes calmed. "Like my forefather, I shall persevere," she looked at Marie.

"Are you going to murder me?" she looked at Diana.

"No," she returned with a smile, "I have other plans for you. Lance had feared Eleanor's gifts, and had spared her for a price. "I think there is another solution, way to break this curse, I think." Once again, the look of a lioness crossed her face.

"What do you mean?" she felt her mouth go dry.

"Jacob…tried to escape, once," tears welled up, but did not fall, "So I made him save some of himself."

"I," she glanced at Barnett, whose smile was too broad, "I don't understand," Marie lied.

"Oh, but you do," Diana gripped her face, hands surprisingly strong; "I don't know what deviltry Eleanor put on my Blood. But, I do know she would never do anything to hurt her own."

Marie looked around for an escape, "I'll never do it!"

"This time they'll be no one to set you free," Diana stroked her hair. "The curse will be lifted, and I'll have heirs. These children will have my cunning and power, yours gifts as well."

"You're crazy!" she said in awe.

"When you've provided me with what I want," she turned away, "once again the oak will have strange fruit."

About the room Marie cast her gaze, but the Hallowed Dream revealed no secrets. Inside of the house, no Shades tread. The whispers and shadows were still, calm. Beating fast her heart resounded in her ears. Gingerbread rose from the soaked shirt. Wards fell, each echoed in her ears. Bolts crashed, light blazed, but she caught a thin silhouette. Shades at the windows peered inside, crawled at the panes.

She recoiled, but felt them desperate to free her. Wrath of the Shades was reserved for another. Diana saw the faintest shift of darkness, turned, but saw nothing. Even Barnett felt a chill in the air, cool despite the heat. The crack of lightning, like the spine of a titan snapping, battered the room. Bright was the flash, dazed and dazzled, and only Marie had looked away. Alice stood in the doorway, head lolled, though was gone with the second flash. Diana and Barnett covered their eyes, and Marie rushed towards the open door.

Out into the hall she flew. Sconces and candelabras held candles whose flames danced, despite the stillness. A small titter, girlish, yet held a cruel, masculine edge dwelled in the dark. The rumble of lightning shook the walls, pictures rattled. Marie paused, though her mind raced. Odd whispers, panicked murmurs, played at the edges. Again, an amused laugh spilled out. These were much different than the Shades.

Once the house had seemed immoveable, but it was unsteady under her feet. The house shook, dust drifted down. Terrified whispers rose. It held together, though the Shades were at the exterior. Savage tides of the fragments threw themselves against the wall. Battered bulwarks held, strengthened by the Wards.

Thrust inside a room, Marie closed the door. She thought of Tim, as her stomach fell. Every horror played at the edges of her mind. Each cut her heart, tears rose and fell, and she prayed that he was well. Absence of him, she felt, bore a hole in her heart. Few regrets haunted her, but leaving him after their night together was one. The warmth of him beside her had never faded. What could have been, it was a beautiful promise, which was secreted away, lest it grow. Tim dead, she thought, and a miserable pain gored her. The sob was low.

Low whispers met her tears. Marie listened. These were distinct. Destruction of the house they discussed, mortal terror threaded through every word. Closer she drew. Every Van Lear, since Lance, roamed the halls of the plantation house. Only the mortal dread of the damned had such gazes. The Wards had saved them, Marie mused, as much as being imprisoned in House Lance and a being ghost could be salvation. Inside of the walls, they were safe from the vengeful Shades. Some, who had been outside when the outer Wars fell, looked harried. Some followed Diana's men, bolstered them, yet all fled Marie.

"What is going on?" she breathed, mind clung to the mystery.