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and I were dating, Alden was always telling me stories about
one person or another. To be perfectly honest,” she said with a
smile, “I thought he was making most of it up, but as I got to know
more of the family I realized he was actually telling the truth.
Someday I hope to have the family history all the way back to the
time of the Aztecs.”
    “Grandpa would love that,” I said. I
remembered how my grandpa had praised my mom’s work, but his
disappointment that she did not know any of the stories had come
with the praise. “Have you ever thought of writing down some of his
stories?”
    “I have,” she admitted, “but I’m not
very talented when it comes to writing narratives. Maybe this is a
project you should consider taking on.” She patted my shoulder.
“How was his doctor’s appointment? Did he say anything about
it?”
    “Just that his cholesterol is still too
high,” I said, thankful for the change in topics. “He said he was
fine, though.”
    “He always says that,” my mom said. The
frown on her face said she did not appreciate his optimism. “He
really ought to take better care of himself. Maybe I’ll have your
father speak to him about it tonight.”
    I shrugged and smiled. I doubted it
would do any good, but I didn’t want to see my grandpa leave me any
earlier than he had to.
    “You should think about helping Grandpa
write his family’s stories down. He won’t always be around to tell
them,” she said.
    “I’ll think about it, Mom. Thanks for
the help with the forms,” I said as she moved back toward the
living room, looking distracted.
    “Sure, dear. I’ll be working on the
photo albums for a while.”
    “Okay, Mom.”
    My search drug on for the rest of the
afternoon, but the time was definitely not wasted. After a
considerable amount of time spent getting used to the way the full
page forms were organized, I started flipping through the pages
with ease. Finally, I came across an entry for Elizabeth Malo.
Victoria’s entry was many pages deeper into the binder. I happened
upon it just as my mom came back into the kitchen and asked me to
clean up for dinner. Quickly noting the death date I flipped the
notebook closed.
    Elizabeth Malo was born in nineteen
hundred two and died in nineteen hundred eighteen. The picture I’d
found of Victoria had been dated 1845, but she was apparently only
twelve in that picture, and sadly died four years later. I wished I
could say I was surprised to discover that both girls died on their
sixteenth birthdays just like Katie and Maera. After my grandpa’s
startling reaction to the topic, I knew what I would find. Actually
finding the dates still sent fear crawling down my spine, though.
Even with only four links, I knew the chain would continue, even
past my mom’s records.
    When my mom asked me to clear the
notebooks out of the room so the table could be set for dinner, I
truly felt like giving up. I did not want to find anything else. I
was so disheartened and worried that I honestly considered putting
everything I had learned back into their boxes and simply waiting,
waiting for whatever was going to find me. It was beyond simply
pretending I had never seen Katie’s picture. What I knew could not
be taken back any more. Did I really want to know what was going to
happen anyway? Could it in any way make it better, especially if I
could do nothing to escape my fate?
    All through dinner I wrestled with
whether I would continue my search. Grandpa had given me the
choice. He promised to keep working whether I continued or not. And
to be honest, he really didn’t sound like he thought I could do
anything that would really matter. Would it make that much of a
difference?
    My fear compelled me to give up, but
how could I know what was coming and simply sit and wait for death
to swallow me. If there was something hunting the women of my
family, then finding the reason, or the hunter, could stop
everything. I had no illusions of becoming some kind of