"Fifteen years," Melissa said, wishing she hadn't said it. She didn't want Creagon to think she had been counting the days.

Why was she so nervous? Why was she feeling all hot and sticky when the shading made by the forest trees was actually quite chilly?

"He was a bastard, you know that, don't you?" Creagon said, having no doubt whatsoever but that Melissa would know just who "he" was. "His attempt at deathbed repentance didn't make him any less a bastard, either."

"He was our father!" Melissa said defensively, wondering why she was defending William Davenport now when Creagon's words only echoed what Melissa had been thinking all along. "He's dead; and, he's left us everything."

"Everything isn't enough-at least as far as I'm concerned," Creagon said. "He waited a little too long to clean up his house as properly as it should have been cleaned."

"Oh, well, he's dead and gone, now, isn't he?" Melissa sighed, wishing she weren't here, now, alone, with her brother.

"But will the harm he caused ever be dead and gone?" Creagon asked her.

"Harm?" Melissa asked as if she really didn't comprehend the insinuation. She still didn't look at her brother; although, she knew he hadn't taken his eyes off her. Melissa could feel Creagon's blue eyes driving into her like warm knives into soft butter.

"You know if there had been any way of taking you with me, I would have done it, don't you?" Creagon asked, moving slowly away from the tree, approaching Melissa slowly, like someone might approach a frightened animal.

"Why must we bring this all up now?" Melissa asked, hearing her voice come out strangely hoarse.

"Because Satan has gone, and it's best to try and exorcise as many of the demons he's left behind."

"It will do more harm than good to bring out the can of worms," Melissa said. Why did she want to get up and run… run… run until she was safely locked in her room at the house? "Some things are better left unsaid. Some things are better left buried."