 
Acknowledgements

To my husband, my rock, my hero, my everything; thank you.

&

To my father; there are simply no words.

Disclaimers

This book is a work of fiction. All persons and events are a figment of my imagination and are not intended to portray or resemble anyone. If it does resemble you, you really have problems don't you, so keep reading; it might help.

I give complete credit to the Lord God Almighty of whom I am a humble servant. Without His guidance, love, and grace this book (and all others) would not have been written. On the other hand; all errors, uh-oh's, oopses, and boo-boo's I gladly take credit for.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

# COSTLY OBSESSION

By: Sasha Pruett

Copyright 2007 Sasha Pruett

Smashwords Edition

For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

Mark 8:36

Table of Contents

Prologue: Chapter One

Prologue: Chapter Two

Animalize

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

And Then

Epilogue

The Werewolf

Decay Excerpt

# Costly Obsession

Prologue

### Chapter One

Little children, keep yourselves from idols.

I John 5:21

He sat motionless in an obscure booth at the rear of the tiny hotel café mesmerized by exhaustion. He willed his body to move, his eyes to focus, and his mind to come to life. He had to think, to see, to leave this place as quickly as possible, he hadn't much time. Once he was on the road he wasn't about to stop. He needed to be alert and ready so he sat sipping his tar black coffee; in an effort to awaken his sore and exhausted body, not caring if he appeared suspicious sporting sunglasses at 6:23 in the morning. A criminal, a drunk, or mad man, no one seemed to notice or at least no one dared to. The glaring light from the nearly naked fluorescent bulbs sent searing pain through his eyes like lightning straight into his brain. All he could think about was being on his way; the hotel, café, and this town would all be nothing but a bad dream.

Leaving a meager tip with the check, he breezed unnoticed through the restaurant doors to his car, pushing his sunglasses closer to conceal his bloodshot eyes from a night of little sleep and even less rest. He unlocked the door with a single touch of a button, 'technology is wonderful,' he thought, then slid into his seat and finally relaxed. The car was so familiar and comfortable that he could have fallen asleep right there, but instead he removed his glasses and placed them in the glove box and headed west from the hotel parking lot.

Only five hundred miles stood between him and his final destination, but his concentration was not on his mileage. He was positive that he had secured them between his suitcases properly, but every bump and pothole in the road sent doubt throughout his mind and he could not help but worry. He took a great risk, but certain that it was well worth the high blood pressure he pressed on. If he could just keep the heads, his heads, intact everything would be fine. Usually he packed them better, but this time he was in a hurry. He laughed at the thought of taking three heads across two state lines and what the local authority's reaction to his little surprise would be. He could just picture himself trying to explain that one.

As if the mere thought of cops had manifested itself into reality he passed two state police vehicles parked beside the road. He automatically checked his speed then glanced into his rear view mirror silently praying. Just his luck; both cars were now trailing him and no sooner did he turn away from the mirror did the lights and sirens wail his impending doom. He thought about running, but knew his new model Ford would never outrun a fleet of cops especially in this age of technology, which he began to rethink his view of. Slowly he pulled to the side of the highway careful not to make any mistakes nor appear to be too cautious either still hoping that maybe by some chance the cops would just keep driving right on by. Even if they told him a taillight or something was out, give him a ticket, and then be on their way that would be fine... he was not that lucky.

Both police cars pulled to a stop, one behind him the other in front, encasing him. No one exited the cruisers, which made him even more nervous than before. Miniature beads of perspiration began to form on the back of his neck and his tiny hairs stood at attention. He knew in his gut and mind that the officers would not understand the situation and may never give him the chance to explain. Finally the two officers emerged in unison and trudged towards him, spelling his impending doom. A deep breath welled inside the man's lungs as he prepared himself for the inevitable. If they failed to notice his precious cargo he would be in the clear, but if they saw the wrong thing then his life may very well be in grave danger, and he knew that no amount of explaining would prevent the confrontation he dreaded. At first all he could see was the uniform and wide brimmed hat of one of the policemen, its metal tassels reflecting a bright gleam of light as the sun bore down at just the right, or wrong angle, then he noticed the strong tanned arms of a well-built law machine. His shirt had to have been an extra-large to fit over the tight formation of muscles that he was sure was beneath it, his side and rear view mirrors captured the clear reflection of the second officer. This one appeared to be more of the mind over matter type, the type that would sense his uneasiness even at a fraction of what it was. Luckily the larger of the two was the one to make it to his window.

"Good morning officer, is there anything wrong?"

"There's a report of a car of this make and model that was used in a robbery last night, would you mind please stepping out of the vehicle while we have a look inside and don't forget your license, registration, and proof of insurance?" It was more of a command than any question he had ever heard, but refusal was not an option, so he complied. Steeling himself for what was to come next he slowly got out of his car careful not to look too "suspicious", while trying to keep his calm.

He nonchalantly handed over his paperwork while keeping an easy look on his face, pretending not to notice the brainy deputy nosing around the trunk. What would he say? What would he do? What could he say or do?

"What heads officer? Oh...those heads, well you see officer it's not what you think...it's actually a very funny story..."

He was greatly regretting which officer had reached his door first when the muscle man led him to his own cruiser. Had it not been for the circumstances he would not have minded. Matter of fact he understood completely. None the less his heart raced, but not from being patted down as he was being now, but from the "brain"; who had just popped the trunk open and was heading to the rear of the car.

He could tell he was going to have a very bad day. Everything shifted into slow motion, as the seconds turned into his last minutes on earth.

The deputy on the other hand froze, choking on his own words. "Ssssir... I thhhink you should see this."

It was all over. A chance to explain was out of the question. He closed his eyes and relaxed against the side of the deputy sheriff's cruiser; waiting for it to hit the fan and accepting his fate. Maybe his surprise wasn't such a good idea after all. He was definitely going to be late, maybe permanently.

The deputy sheriff unsnapped his holster expecting the stolen money and weapons, maybe more. What he found was beyond belief. There carefully lain between two suitcases, wrapped in thick, clear, plastic was a decaying, severed, head and two more plastic bags were all but hidden behind the two suitcases in the rear of the trunk. He could see the poor soul's swollen, bloated, blackened tongue protruding from its still rotting jaw through the multiple layers of plastic. Its eyeballs had long since sunken into their sockets revealing even more of the brown, green, and blackened mass that had once resembled flesh hanging from the exposed bones.

The deputy began retching violently on his shoes, as the deputy sheriff drew his gun, refusing to show his horror to the hideous monster standing before him. He willed his body to portray the air of the tough cop he knew he was and mustered all of his strength into keeping his voice steady. There was no room for the fear that he was feeling. "Hold it right there you sadistic freak! I'll shoot you without a second thought. Just try me!"

*****

Yeah, he could just imagine that. What a vacation.

The sun had started its nightly decent into the western horizon nearly blinding him, and his two-day trip from Illinois to Nebraska was finally nearing its end. Tired and exhausted he let out a deep sigh of relief and shifted his sore butt in the seat; again. Even a night at the hotel in Iowa gave little more than a few hours of rest and a headache. The couple in the next room made sure of that. "People who fight that loud at three in the morning should be shot!" he mused.

When the visor became of little use, he dug in the glove compartment attempting to find the pair of sunglasses he had dumped in there earlier. Maps, napkins, straws, and ketchup packets spilled into the floorboard, as did his much-needed sunglasses. Curses flooded his mind as he leaned over and began groping; his arms stretched as far as they could possibly stretch, and his fingers wildly probed the floorboard. Suddenly his car shuddered, banging his head repeatedly into the steering wheel. Panic welled in his gut, and he forced his body to jerk upright. He swallowed the lump in his throat and with it his fear resolving himself to regain control of his mind and his car. The loose gravel clutched the tires, refusing to let go, sending the wild auto into a series of spins. The sound of his spastically beating heart boomed in his ears and brain. He prayed that what he'd heard was true as he turned into the skid and steadily pumped the brake, fighting the urge to slam full force on the oblong pedal.

His prayers had been answered as the car slid to a stop just inches from a drainage ditch. Unsure of whether he was shaking from the slightly sudden stop or from pure terror he sat clutching the wheel unaware of his white knuckles and cramping digits. Dread turned to anger and vulgarities of every kind traipsed through his mind, yet "You idiot!" is all that came out.

'All of this over a stupid pair of sunglasses. No, all of this because you were too lazy to pull off the stinking road. How are you gonna get there if you total the stupid car. Jeez you'd lose your head... head? The heads!' Franticly he wrestled with the seatbelt, flinging himself out of the car and straight to the ground, kissing the gravel. Now he really felt like an idiot, but at least no one was around to witness his Stooge moment, or to see him on all fours shaking his head like a dog in the dirt.

He stood upright into a cloud of dust drifting nearly a mile down the deserted road, though the tracks gouged in the gravel measured only a few yards. He called himself a name even less flattering than idiot as he made his way to the trunk then realized he hadn't pressed the trunk release button and had to return to his door. Being cautious, the now bruised and battered man looked both ways, just like his mommy had taught him, before opening the trunk and exposing its contents. A wave of relief, no damage had been done to his precious cargo and he was once again reassured that they would survive the last twenty minutes or so of his journey. He excitedly closed the trunk lid and sighed then sped off to the western horizon leaving behind yet another trail of dust to scatter in the dusk.

The dirt encrusted Ford slid into a lonesome driveway at exactly 6:07 p.m., just as the front door of the large log house flung open and out burst the skinny little boy he'd been wanting to see.

"Uncle Alex, Uncle Alex, what'd ya bring me!?" The ten-year-old boy flung himself into his uncle's strong arms, giving him a huge hug... Uncle Alex smiled.

## Chapter Two

_... your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams._

Acts 2:17

"Now Trev, you haven't seen me in over three months and all you can say is 'what'd ya bring me?'. I'm beginning to think that you don't love me."

"Well it's my birthday today ain't it?"

"True, but still it's not polite. Isn't that right Dad?" Alex's eyes shifted to meet those of a tall man with broad thick shoulders. Sometimes Alex envied his brother and hoped that when he was in his mid-thirties he'd have what Nick did. With little Trevor nestled nicely in his arms the two brothers did their man hug with a few pats on the back, happy to be reunited.

"All right boys, dinner's on the table so get those cute buns in here."

"Oooohhh... well you heard your mother. Run on in while I help Uncle Alex with his bags." With his son safely out of earshot Nick turned back to his brother, "Did you bring them?"

*****

With dinner digesting and all of the joy and excitement of presents coming to an end it was finally time for Alex's surprise. Trevor's own anticipation had occupied him while Alex and his brother made all the preparations, tonight would be one that they would never forget, especially Trevor.

"All right Trev, are you ready for your final surprise?"

"Now that's a stupid question Uncle Alex, of course I'm ready!"

His mother Betty snickered at her son's fervent reply, "Yep, he's already talking like a smart-alec preteen." The group rose from the table and with the birthday boy in front of them they guided him to his own pitch-dark bedroom. Confused, Trevor could only stare ahead straining his eyes to focus in the dark, yet saw only a slim line of boxes. Suddenly he was blinded by the light bearing down from above. He blinked feverishly before finally focusing on three rectangular plexi-glass cases, each containing the Holy Grail of the macabre; a perfectly repulsive severed head.

"Well, what do you think?" Still in awe over his newest treasures Alex's words went completely unnoticed. Trevor's small fingers traced the corners of the protective cases then flipped the tiny switch at the base, lighting even the most delicate details of its contents.

Betty couldn't resist asking, "How'd you get away with it? I mean I can't believe that they'd just let you walk out with those."

"Uncle Alex! These are the greatest!" His scrawny arms wrapped as tight as they could around his uncle's waist and squeezed with all his might. So hard in fact that Alex felt his dinner making a return trip.

"Ease up there sport or you'll be wearing my supper."

"Sorry. Where'd you get them?"

"They're from my private collection."

"You mean you did them yourself?" his mother gasped.

"Sure, that's what I do Betty."

"I wanna be just like you when I grow up Uncle Alex!"

A smile played on Alex's lips, for there was no greater complement than that. "It takes a lot of hard work, study, and talent... but I think you'll do just fine. You may even be better than me one day."

"You really think so?"

"Of course. Besides, special effects artistry is a booming business, even the computer techs still need models to go by."

"Are they just rubber or what exactly?" Curiosity had blossomed in Betty's eyes and Alex could plainly see where Trevor had inherited it.

"Actually they're a special latex blend fitted over an animatronic endoskeleton. The remote, which resembles a toy car remote, is still in my suitcase. He's gonna need a few lessons before I hand that over to him."

"Can we start tonight Uncle Alex? Please...PLEASE!"

"Not tonight partner, it's bedtime." A dark cloud had settled in, but even his father's announcement of the day's end could not spoil the joy Trevor felt. He brushed his teeth, changed into a pair of shorts with his tee shirt (only babies wore pjs), and climbed onto the top bunk. For years he struggled to make his room perfect. Monster posters and Halloween decorations lined his walls; fake razor gloves and hockey masks adorned his shelves as homage to his favorite movies, while fake butcher's knives, meat cleavers, scythes, and axes were placed in just the right spot. The walls were white with dark blood red paint splattered across and running down them, his curtains were black and the fluorescent black lights lining the walls gave the whole room a surreal appearance when illuminated. Even the giant fake spider's web covering his blood red ceiling made for the perfect morbid effect, but nothing could top his newest possessions. The three heads, exquisite in every way, rested flawlessly on one long shelf against the wall directly opposite his black wrought iron bunk bed that was adorned with chains and handcuffs. Most nights Trevor would lie awake tracing his handmade spider's web shadow as it danced eerily on the ceiling until he fell into a dreamless sleep, but tonight he would gaze at the still lit cases until the sandman worked his nightly magic.

# Animalize

_Woe to the inhabitants of the earth... for the devil is come down to you,_

Revelation 12:12

# Animalize

Chapter One

...wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction,

Matthew 7:13

Summer had just begun in Epson, South Carolina and nothing could stop the flow of adventure than ran through the group of friends gathered at the water's edge. Five boys had banded together since infancy destined to get into any and everything they could. They were all teens, and hormones raged; the call for exploration was undeniable and uncontrollable. These were the very urges that brought these five to gather at Deer Lake in preparation to explore the mysteries of the surrounding woods, their caves, and the secrets they held. Armed with little more than a couple of watches, some snacks, and five flash lights, the group of treasure hunters set off into the unknown; at least unknown to them. Michael Lamb, Chris Mann, Jeremy Kinsington, and William and Jacob Raleigh had long since been intrigued by the stories of settlers hiding their valuables in caves to protect them from thieves and today they were intent on coming home millionaires. The sun had long since begun its decent yet cave after cave turned up little more than dirt and rocks, the novelty was wearing off and dissension had arisen within the platoon.

"This is boring. Let's blow this off and go swimming."

"What's the matter Willie, scared of the dark?"

"Cut it out, my name's Will, not Willie, and no I'm not scared it's just getting stupid. There's nothing out here except a bunch of trees and rocks. Besides I'm getting hungry."

"You're always hungry Willie."

"Am not Chrissie!"

"Will you two knock it off I've found another cave." Michael was the oldest, by only a few months, but still he was the closest thing to a leader that the group had and everyone looked up to him. Although lately they had noticed that he'd begun to change. They didn't really know how or why, but he had become moodier than usual and distant, not to mention his taste in music, movies, clothes, and everything else had changed almost overnight, they had become darker and slightly well... weird is all the guys could manage to describe it. Of course these things didn't matter because Michael was still one of them. He was just growing up and "asserting his individuality", so still they looked up to him and in all honesty, slightly feared him as well.

The opening to the cave was fairly large and had they not been looking for it they would have fallen straight down into it. Five bright beams of light danced around the walls and the floor curious to the surroundings. Their voices echoed as the group teased and joked their way through their insecurity and all over creepy feelings, each one not wanting the others to know that goose bumps had invaded their bodies and cold shivers ran up their spines. The thrill had worn off and the lack of riches only made the whole day seem to be a huge bust, so defeated the group made their way back to the entrance prepared to go home empty handed and beaten when they were stopped dead in their tracks.

"I found something! I found something! Hey guys look at this. Come here, come here, check this out!" Will's shrieks of delight sent the guys running toward him; only he was nowhere to be found. Spooked, the four looked at each other in confusion before Will jumped from behind a giant stalagmite scaring them all.

"Look what I found." He led them behind the stalagmite to a small opening near the floor and shone his light on his much treasured discovery, a skull.

"Go check it out Will."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the one who found it, that's why. What's the matter, chicken?"

"Don't call me chicken Chris! I'll show you." Will inhaled deeply mustering all of his courage then thrust himself through the opening. Once inside he could stand easily and found the inner chamber to be quite large. He flashed his light all around him, finally focusing it on the remains on the floor. They belonged to what appeared to be a bear or something similar, but when he moved closer to examine his prize he tripped landing face first in the dirt. A roar of laughter reverberated throughout the cave and continued long after the boys had quieted. Embarrassed and angry Will examined his offender only to find that it was no rock or bone, but in fact was a very large, very old book; definitely worth some money, maybe the day hadn't been a total loss after all. The "trip" forgotten, Will excitedly rushed back to his snickering friends to show them his treasure. With renewed energy the five amateur archaeologists made their way back to the beach to fully examine their find. The young men sat almost ceremonially around a bonfire they made while passing the book and the rest of their snacks between them.

"This thing must be pretty old, how old do you think it is Jeremy?"

"How would I know? I'm not an expert."

"Well your mom works at the museum doesn't she?"

"So, what has that got to do with anything?"

"Well I just thought that you might know some stuff that's all."

"Your mom works at the doctor's office, does that mean you know all about medicine Jacob?"

"I guess not. Hey, but wouldn't your mom know something about the book? I mean you could have her, you know, examine it or something. Tell us all about it, where'd it come from, how much it's worth, stuff like that?"

"Yeah, especially how much it's worth. Hey Chris, hand me the book I bet I could tell you how old it is." Curious and doubtful Chris handed William the book. William opened the thick, hard cover and peered through the pages inside appearing to be in deep thought. Then smugly he turned to the group and announced,

"I estimate that this book is over one-hundred and thirty years old, give or take a few months."

"You're lying. How'd you know that? You don't even know your own birthday. What are you psychic or something?"

With an even greater smile William looked directly at his brother and said, "No, I just open the book and looked at the date written on the front page."

Jacob blushed as the others laughed in amusement, all that is except for Michael. He had grown strangely quiet as he watched his friends fooling around. "Let me see the book." A demanding air of urgency was present in Michael's voice and the group ceased their snickering, and passed the book around the ring until it reached him. Michael's hands caressed the strangely bound cover then opened it to peer at the equally strange writing inside. He recognized a few of the words and markings and suddenly he began to feel a surge of warmth and what seemed like power. "It's written in Latin, I think. It's definitely not from around here." He continued to leaf through the delicate pages that had long since turned yellow and brittle.

"Let's see if we can read it! I've always wanted to learn Latin."

"Since when Jacob?"

"Shut up Chris." The two continued to argue and throw insults at each other when Michael flipped to an interesting page and attempted to read the words recorded their so long ago. After reading a line he passed the book to Jeremy who read aloud further and so on and so on until Michael once again read from it. "Jeremy, your turn."

As Jeremy read aloud the last sentence on the page the others began to notice that the stars had disappeared from the night sky and ominously dark clouds had invaded. Without warning a sudden flash of lightning struck the lake while its thunderous counterpart deafened the small group. Nerves were rattled at the sight of how close the lightning had come to them, without waiting for an encore the five grabbed their belongings and headed for home. The sudden downpour extinguished all traces of the bonfire that the boys had carelessly left behind and continued to rage on throughout the night.

## Chapter Two

_...grievous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock._

Acts 20:29

Dark figures slithered silently within the void of darkness that surrounded him. Only the beating of his own heart provided any sense of humanity, for what was lingering just beyond him was in no way human. It was stalking him; he could feel its eyes leering intently upon his flesh. Its presence was all around him. A cold dense fog rolled in clutching at his ankles then climbed higher to engulf his legs, torso, then eventually all of him. The thick, undulating mass glowed a dirty white and it seemed to live and breathe just as he did. It clung to him and no matter how fast he waved his arms the fog never left him. The thing in the shadows moved closer to him, hiding within the white blanket, darting in and out as if to say "I'm here and there's nothing you can do about it, you can't even see me though I'm right beside you."

He could feel it darting in front of him then behind him then beside him, yet when he swung towards this invisible demon it would spring back into the depths of the abyss. Finally, another sound began to drown out that of his own wildly throbbing heart, a low menacing growl had encompassed him and was growing louder and deeper, and it was getting closer. The terrifying snarl seemed to come from everywhere, even above him and panic began to fill every inch of him. He tried to run, to escape the unseen monster but he was frozen, paralyzed in that very spot. Whatever it was he would have to face it like it or not, he was at its mercy. Time slowed as the taunting continued, then without warning everything ceased. The growling was gone and the fog dissolved into nothingness, leaving him once again in the pitch black void of nowhere. His rapid breathing slowed to normal and his heart took on a slower, steady beat. His body had been returned to him and he once again surveyed the emptiness that surrounded him. He looked left, then right, satisfied that the nightmare had retreated into the recesses he relaxed and looked ahead... directly into the yellow snake like eyes of death. Its rancid hot breath filled his sinus and turned his stomach. The thing must have been hunched over when it rose to its full height it towered over the petrified boy. In the center of each of the gleaming yellow eyes rested the black cat like slits of a hunter and when the beast opened its foul smelling mouth it revealed its bright teeth, its razor tips, and the blood from victims both old and new. The boy could feel its clawed hands wrap around his head pulling him off the floor and closer to the face of evil. Hot liquid ran down his leg and the smell of fresh urine wafted up to both his and the creatures noses. Too terrified to be embarrassed he kept his eyes fixed on the thing before him as it smiled with the pleasure of the fear reeking from every pore in the boy's body.

Images invaded the boy's mind as if sent to him from the mind of his captor. Flashes of death and destruction, blood and tears. Severed limbs scattered along a blood soaked plain; piles of still living tortured souls stacked one upon another high into the blackened sky. Living corpses still walking as chunks of flesh melted off their rotting bodies. Wails and moans filled his ears from the inside out as he witnessed bodies being gutted while their owners looked on in horror and excruciating pain. Hearts, livers, intestines, and entrails of all kinds littered the ground as skin and bone creatures that were once human picked through it all fighting for the food that was the dead and dying. Flashes of humans, long tortured to insanity, tearing at those still sane and eating their flesh sickened the boy, yet the images continued to invade his mind raping his sanity. He saw fresh, still moving bodies and parts of bodies impaled on stakes surrounding him showering him with their blood. The warm, sticky goo ran over his face and he struggled to keep it away from his mouth. He witnessed the damned bursting into a flame that would never be extinguished. A tunnel of lost souls writhing in agony lay before him and it was at this moment that he realized he was seeing the very essence of Hell. Hell was no longer a mythical place made up to keep children from misbehaving, it was no longer the fantasy of religion, but the true province of pain and suffering that he had heard of in so many stories. He could even smell the sulfur amongst the rotting flesh and garbage that blanketed everything as far as his mind's eye could see. His own wails and cries mingled with those of the condemned as he begged for mercy.

"Please... no more... no more. I can't take it... please stop... please. What do you want? Please... please...stop. Leave me alone... please."

The flashes and screams died down, all that was left was his own pitiful sobs and the inhuman laughter of his tormentor.

"Look at me child."

He could not bring himself to open his eyes to the beast after such an attack on his mind, but the thing would not be disobeyed and shook him violently, then continued to speak. "Open your eyes and look. Look at me child and know the face of evil!"

Terrified to look, but more terrified not to he opened his eyes to behold a mutating form. From monstrous to near human the thing morphed slowly before him. Then, just as the face began to become somewhat familiar he awoke in a cold sweat, safely in his own bed. By the morning he would forget all about the dream and its horrors and continued to enjoy the summer warmth and the company of his friends. The book had been tossed aside and all had forgotten it while they spent their days swimming and watching the girls in their revealing bathing suits and their nights spent either dating or palling around. Life had returned to normal in Epson, South Carolina.

Until...

The lightning streaked like a whip through the newly blackened sky causing the lake to illuminate like day, yet the creature required no light to see. Still it felt strange, its senses were strong, but they held an unfamiliar feel that unnerved it ever so slightly. Suddenly a flow of hatred and anger washed over it and all that was left was the undeniable urge to purge its rage with blood and suffering. It let out a powerful cleansing howl then dashed stealthily through the woods to a farm miles from the small South Carolina town. Scorching saliva dripped from its mouth at the sight of fresh, living prey. It closed its eyes and listened to the many heartbeats of the livestock just yards away. A swift frenzy began within the fence as the animals sensed an unearthly presence invading the safety of their meadow and a stampede soon ensued as the intruder's presence spread throughout the farm. Bleating and the horrified shrieks of the cattle, horses, and goats rang out, only to be drowned out by the mighty storm that played nature's violent game.

Each innocent animal, running and fighting to live fell to the ground one by one, blood gushing from their vastly open wounds, gasping for every breath. Many had their throats torn completely from them, spurting blood into the mouth of their murderer; some lost their heads all together. Others watched as the thing slashed and tore colossal masses of flesh and bone from their bodies then smiled at the terror in their eyes before dying. One by one the creature ravaged the trapped animals until not one was left alive, then it returned to the carcasses to further mutilate them and feast upon the still warm meat. Bones crunched between its teeth and soft tissue oozed while the not yet coagulated blood tricked down its greedy throat. It had been so long between meals and this was indeed a feast. Yet there was something missing. The stupid cattle could satisfy his hunger, but not his lust for fear, for torture. For that he would desire and require a being of intelligence... a human being. It made up its deranged mind that next he would feed on the tortured remains of a human... the sweetest meat of all.

## Chapter Three

_...your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour._

I Peter 5:8

"Jeremy! Phone, it's Chris."

"I've got it Mom. Hello?"

"Hey man, did you hear about old man Farley?"

"What about him?"

"Last night, during the storm, something slaughtered all of his animals."

"All of them?"

"Yeah, even his dogs."

"What did it?"

"Well the cops are sayin' that it was some kind of wild dog or something, a whole pack of 'em, but I think that old man finally snapped and went on a killin' spree."

"Mr. Farley is kind of mental, but I don't think he'd murder all those animals."

"I don't know man; he's been a farmer all his life. Maybe he just got fed up with having to take care of all of it and decided to get rid of 'em."

"You'd turn the local doctor into a mad scientist who was doing experiments on his patients when they came to see him."

"Who me?"

"Yeah you! You have a wilder imagination than my six-year-old niece that thinks she can talk to bunnies and ride the deer into the woods for a picnic with the forest creatures."

"Couldn't you just see old man Farley running around in the storm with huge knife or pitch fork, or better yet a chain saw? Bet they find his wife all chopped up in the root cellar."

"Oh grow up Chris, not everyone goes nuts and hacks up their families. You've been watching too many late night movies and reading too many horror novels. This is Epson, nothing ever happens here."

"Okay Jeremy, maybe he didn't do it, but stranger things have happened and they've all happened in sleepy little nothin' towns like this one where everyone knows everyone else. Haven't you ever noticed that almost all those stories are written about towns like ours? I'm telling you we're prime candidates for something freaky to invade and kill us all."

"I can't wait to hear your "What I Did over Summer Break," report. Next thing you know we'll have the devil trampling through the town with all of us hypnotized into following him."

"Hey, it could happen."

"Yeah right, and I'm the Easter Bunny."

"I didn't think you believed in that."

"What the Easter Bunny? I don't, that's the point. Duh! Look I gotta go. See you and the guys at the spot tomorrow?"

"Sure, I have to see Will try to break the distance record for the furthest swing."

"You did fix the rope didn't you?"

"Sure, Michael and I did that after he went flying off backwards onto the shore instead of in the water. I sure hope my dad doesn't go looking for the rope he uses to tow the boat with though."

"Maybe we ought to put it back?"

"Nah, he really only uses it to reinforce the, what do ya call it...connection or whatever. Any way I better go too, I still have to take out the trash. See ya tomorrow. Bye."

"Bye."

*****

"Hurry up Annabelle, we need to get going." The stranger loaded the last of the luggage into the trunk, then double-checked the list in his mind to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything. Once again he called to his wife to quicken the pace, but was met with a look of irritation.

"I don't see why we have to leave so late. We could have stayed the night; we were paid up 'till tomorrow." She called to him while closing and locking the hotel door behind her.

"Because traffic is almost nonexistent at this time of night which means we'll get there sooner. We save on time, on gas, and on money." Thick clouds began to roll through the night sky and the faint sound of thunder was just audible in the distance while a light drizzle of rain began its descent. A gentleman to the end, the man ran to help his wife into the car and shut her door after her, but before getting in himself he couldn't help scanning the parking lot and the woods beyond for what he was certain was something peering back at him. Water ran down his face as the rain poured on, falling in heavy sheets, he could barely see a thing. This was going to slow them down terribly.

The rain, a hindrance to some, made no difference to the creature that lay in wait. It could see, hear, smell, and feel their presence, all of which inflamed the torrents of rage already pulsating through its veins. Pleasurable thoughts of sinking its massive teeth into the man's throat while slicing open his gut, along with other demented desires played repeatedly through its twisted mind. As swiftly as the night before the creature dashed through the woods following the vehicle and its prey. This was going to be fast food.

As the car passed each one of the sparsely placed streetlights, Annabelle Sheere couldn't help but notice the tiniest of movements outside her window. She knew it must have been her mind playing tricks on her a reflection from the rain or something, but as the car continued the feeling of being watched crept up on her so intently she no longer believed that it was just a figment of her imagination. Something was out there. The uneasy feeling grew until not only was she sure something was watching them, but stalking them as well. She opened her mouth, but thought better of it when she realize how silly it all sounded; something was out in the rain chasing after them; ridiculous. Finally, even with all her reasoning skills employed, paranoia overwhelmed her and she was forced to say something. "Hun, you're going to think I'm crazy, but I can't shake this feeling that there is something out there watching us."

"Ah that's nothing; I felt it when we first left the hotel. Just the storm though. Making us feel a little creeped out this late at night. Besides nothing could keep up with us, even if there was something out there."

"What about wild dogs? I heard on the local news about a bunch of cattle that was slaughtered by a pack of wild dogs just last night outside of town."

"Sweetheart, wild dogs don't chase cars for almost thirty miles. It's just the reflection of the streetlights off the rain making it look like something's following us that's all, I promise dear. There is no car chasing monster out to get us."

Temporarily subdued she peered out the window. Her husband gently patted her hand and jokingly made fun of her.

"That's not nice!"

"Oh you know I love you."

"Do I?"

"Of course, now look in the glove compartment and get the map out would you Annabelle sweetie. I need to know where the turn off is."

The map was an easy find but the flashlight was of little use with dead batteries so the couple was forced to pull off the road and use the interior light to find their way. As the two gazed at the multitude of lines on the map they turned and gently kissed. Then they kissed again and again, each with more passion than the one before, but a sudden case of the giggles broke the growing passion as thoughts of being caught "parking" on a major highway came to mind along with times long ago. The map forgotten, the two began talking of moments tucked away in the fondest part of their memories, ignoring everything outside the world that was their car.

The thing in the shadows watched as the car slowed and its red lights flashed brightly even in the rain, then pulled to the side of the road, it too slowed and halted some yards behind within the cover of the bushes. Barely a sign of its presence existed; not even its heaving breaths could be seen past the pouring rain. Its eyes glowed intensely as the urge to attack grew stronger by the second, though it dared not move into the light surrounding its prey. Pulling under the street lamp had bought them time, but minutes only. Soon they would belong to it. Controlling the urge to rip, tear, and shred became more and more difficult by the second and soon it would have to release the pulsating rage within. Just as the beast could wait no longer, the crimson lights dulled and the car slowly turned back onto the road and away from their unknown sanctuary. Darkness swallowed the car and the creature sprinted from its shroud leaping onto the road chasing down the soon to be victims.

The moment had passed and the young man pulled back onto the highway, but as he glanced into the rear view mirror he caught a glimpse of something that not only confused him, but frightened him. What was it? He turned in his seat to get a better look at the thing reflected in the mirror and saw a beast, black as night, fur matted to its body. Even through the rain he could see it eyes, its unrelenting eyes, glaring right back at him. He swung around preparing to slam on the gas and leave this monster from the pit behind them like a bad dream while Annabelle turned to see what was happening. As she coiled her head around she saw the thing make a great leap into the air and crash through the rear window tearing the head clean off her husband with one great swipe of its massive claws thrusting it into the lap of the horrified widow. The car began swerving violently, but the beast paid no mind and it pounced on top of Annabelle tearing at her chest, stomach, neck, and face with all four claws, ripping huge chunks of flesh from her spasmodic body, spewing her blood back into her own mouth. The last thing poor Annabelle saw as she gurgled on blood was the fierce smile on her tormentors face as it ripped her jaw from her skull, crunching on her lower teeth, crushing her bones.

From the moment the demon had begun its vicious attack on the couple Annabelle had been numb with fear, but in her final moment she closed her eyes and prayed to God to forgive her accepting Christ as her savior. No way she wanted this reign of terror to continue for all eternity, it was a miracle she had clarity enough through the pain and panic to pray and the instant her prayer was finished the pain and fear ceased, though the savagery continued. Now there was peace for Annabelle and she would never know the atrocities her body suffered at the hand of evil.

A piercing howl ripped through the night as the final flash of lightning slashed the blackened sky. The thunder reached its crescendo with one last deafening clash, and the rain ceased as though the water had been turned off from the heavens above. All was still and quiet as if to mourn for the events that had so horribly taken place. Even the creatures of the dark held their peace as though to hide their very existence and grieve for those who had not been so fortunate. The clouds parted and cleared and the moon spread its hypnotic beams throughout the forest, the lake, the town, and the highway, but there was no creature, no bodies, and no car to catch the silvery light.

## Chapter Four

_For there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known._

Luke 12:2

Morning came and went, as did the afternoon, and the town went on as usual in the heat of summer. Yet a certain gloom and fear of upcoming events hung heavy in the air, no one knowing what it was or just what it meant for them. To the town it was just another hot, humid, sticky July day in Epson, South Carolina. The teens and kids in the town were swimming at Deer Lake while their parents worked, packed for vacation, or joined them for a day of cool refreshing fun.

Of course as always the Epson five were together, hanging at a secluded spot of the beach that they had long ago claimed as their own. Their favorite sport was in full swing, literally, as the sixth swing and dive competition of the season called for the next challenger Jacob Raleigh. While the others cheered him on or teased his future failure Michael had other things on his mind, things he could not shake no matter how hard he tried, things that ate at him like a cancer. Finally unable to hold it in any longer he turned to his best friend.

"Jeremy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I mean without you thinking that I'm crazy or making fun of me?"

"That serious?"

"Yeah, well maybe. I don't know. It's just really weird and it's beginning to get to me. You know?"

"Let's move back so no one else hears and I promise not to laugh or tell any of the other guys if that's what you want."

"Thanks man. I appreciate it."

The two moved further back onto the beach where the woods staked their claim and they'd have at least a small amount of privacy. Nervously, Michael described the dreams that had invaded his sleep over the past few nights and the fear that they brought. "I mean you know me Jeremy, I don't scare easily, but these nightmares wake me up screaming some nights. At first I thought that it was just a coincidence or something, you know, from reading that book and the storm and all, but something happened that..." he had gone too far to stop now and he had to purge himself of the weight that had grown on his mind. "... well it really terrified me." His secret was out, he was scared.

"What was that?"

"You know the attack on old man Farley's cattle?"

"Yeah."

"I dreamt about it."

"That's no biggie. If I thought about it long enough I'd have dreams about it too."

"No Jeremy, you don't get it. I dreamt about it the night it happened! Before anyone knew what happened!"

"You mean you predicted it?"

"Sort of, but it was worse than that."

"Maybe you're psychic?"

"Maybe, but I had another dream last night and it was even worse. It made me sick and it..."

Before he could finish a scream of pain rang out and their train of thought was lost as they glanced up to see William struggling to keep his head above water. Without thinking the four other boys dove in after their friend and dragged him to the shore.

"What happened, Chris?"

"He was trying to break the record and swung out too far or something 'cause he hit the water and came up screaming." Blood was pouring from a gaping wound in Will's left leg and his shin bone was protruding into the sand. Too freaked to act the boys could only kneel and witness the gruesome sight until Jeremy began barking orders.

"We need to get him to the hospital. Chris... Chris, look at me. Run to the other side of the beach and get your dad. Tell him there's been an accident and that Will's broken his leg and he's bleeding. Jacob, you go get some limbs so we can splint his leg and Michael you can use our shirts to tie his leg to the splint."

"Jeremy I... I can't... I..."

"Fine, just hold his hand and let him squeeze it when he needs to. Splinting his leg is probably gonna hurt even more, but it needs done." After sending the others on their missions he turned his attention to the injured Will, "Will, it's gonna be all right. We're going to immobilize your leg so that it doesn't get worse. You've broken it pretty bad. Do you know what happened?"

Confused and in terrible pain he tried to clear his foggy head long enough to think of what really had happen to him. Finally the memory returned and between gasps of pain he told what he could. "I swung out further than ever this time and I was yelling to... to Chris when I hit the water. I... I started to... go down in the water hard, but I hit something, something harder. I felt my leg go limp and... it hurt. I got scared and couldn't swim."

"I felt something too Will."

"Obviously, you didn't feel enough." Michael interjected

"What do you mean?"

"Jeremy, your leg!"

"What about it?"

"It's bleeding too!"

"It's probably just some of Will's blood from where we pulled him out."

"No man, your leg it's gushing blood! Look!" Michael was relentless.

"Fine." Jeremy inspected his leg and found a piece of glass was embedded into his calf, the blood really was his. Adrenaline pumping, Jeremy, reached behind him and pulled the shard from his left leg, then ripped a piece of his shirt and tied it around his hemorrhaging appendage. No sooner was the knot tied than the other boys returned one carrying splints and the other followed by a huffing father. His own injury forgotten, the group worked to stabilize William's leg before Chris's father rushed the crying boy to his car. All five teens and two adults piled into the SUV, leaving their possessions on the sand by the water's edge temporarily forgotten.

The hospital smelled of disinfectant and the fake odors of canned fragrances, and despite the sultry summer day outside, inside the hospital it was downright freezing. Will was taken back to emergency with no waiting, the hospital was experiencing another one of its lazy days in a sleepy town, while the group of friends told and retold the events of the afternoon again and again. It wasn't until Michael was recounting his version to the town sheriff Franklin (Frank) Marshall that he remembered Jeremy and his gashed leg.

"Okay Jeremy, my name is Dr. Boyd and I'll be taking a look at that cut of yours. By the way your friend talks it was quite a gusher."

"Michael tends to over exaggerate when it comes to stuff like that."

"Stuff like what?"

"You know, blood and stuff. He acts all tough and weird and stuff, but he hates the sight of blood. Actually I think it's just a scratch."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I didn't even notice it was there for one thing and for another it didn't really hurt when I removed the glass."

"Well let's just have a look and clean it out just to be safe." Dr. Boyd unwrapped the makeshift bandage and irrigated the wound with an antiseptic wash to find that it was indeed only a scratch.

"Bad news Jeremy."

Jeremy's calm demeanor was shook and his heart pounded, "What do you mean?" he said with a shakiness he wasn't aware of.

"Well son, I don't know how to tell you this, but you won't be getting any stitches to show off to your friends. Sorry."

Relieved and slightly angry Jeremy released his breath. The doctor dressed the cut with little more than a Band-Aid and sent him on his way. He emerged from the e.r. to a throng of excited friends and parents.

"What'd they say?"

"Did you get a lot of stitches?"

"Will's getting thirty-two stitches and a cast."

"Yeah, they said that the water helped to slow him down and it kept his leg from being torn off completely."

"Isn't that cool?!"

"Will was hurt Chris, that's not cool. He won't be able to swim for the rest of the summer and neither will we." Michael had become irritated over Chris and Jacob's nonchalantness. Their friend had been hurt and decided to set them straight.

"What do you mean 'Neither will we'?" After their scolding neither Chris nor Jacob wanted anything to do with Michael and refused to speak. A practice the five were very familiar with whenever one offended the other, but like any other argument it was only temporary. The longest fight had in fact lasted only two weeks and it wouldn't have lasted that long if it wasn't for the fact that one of the boys had been away with his parents at the time. So in turn it was up to Michael to fill Jeremy in on all the commotion that had taken place in the few short moments of his absence. "Well we can swim, just not in our spot."

"Why not?"

"Sheriff Marshall said that it was off limits until he had a chance to find out what you and Will got hurt on and remove it from the lake. Will won't be able to hang for a while, because of his injuries they had to put him on some pretty strong pain medicine that puts him to sleep sometimes. The morbid twins over there were right about his fall though. The water did slow him down enough to keep him from almost losing his leg."

"Wow," To think that you could lose a body part just by diving into something.

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

"How many stitches did you get?"

"Oh, none."

"None?"

"Yeah, it was just a scratch after all."

"But the blood was gushing all over the place."

"Well it was nothing, see." Jeremy pulled up one side of his measly bandage and showed the gawking group his pathetic little cut. Satisfied and a little disappointed the group turned their attention back to Will and waited. When the time came to marvel at his gash they found him sleeping like a baby and the leg bandaged up like a mummy. He would be released the next day, so the gang returned to the beach to gather their belongings then grabbed some food at their favorite haunt. A dull finish to an exciting day, all they would talk about for months to come would be this day... they thought.

## Chapter Five

_... these are the beginning of sorrows._

Matthew 24:8

Sheriff Frank Marshall was finally out of the office with an actual purpose other than his daily rounds of the town, or having to oversee the investigation of the grisly attack on old man Farley's livestock. Looking at the mutilated carcasses brought his breakfast flowing back into his mouth, he was a strong man, but not many could smell that stench and not get ill. Investigating a foreign object in the lake had to be better than that by far, so he made a call to the resident scuba diver requesting that he meet him at Deer Lake.

"Frank."

"Terry."

"So what's the deal? Someone lose his keys or something?"

"No; nothing like that this time. It seems that a group of boys were out here horsin' around and one of them got banged up pretty bad. He was swingin' out and hit something when he landed, broke his leg in two. Another boy cut his calf, but that wasn't very serious."

"I see. You want me go down and see what we're dealing with."

"You always did catch on quick."

"Not according to my wife." The two old friends shared a laugh before Terry Crenshaw drug his gear from his truck and suited up. During the summer he often received calls when someone lost their wedding ring or other valuables. At times he made a nice little chunk of change off either the reward or his own hourly rate. Once upon a time he considered going into the recovery business full time, but the calls to action were few and far between and anything he did for Frank was strictly a favor.

Terry double-checked his gages one last time before wading into the murky lake water and submerging. No matter how many times he went down it was always new and exciting, almost like a treasure hunt. Even when he was searching for accident victims the adventure still held a level of excitement over the unexpected. In truth that's what he anticipated to discover in the not so deep water of Deer Lake. His light flashed on a large metallic object not four yards ahead of him and by its size he knew that his assumption was correct. Cautiously Terry swam towards the vehicle; yet the closer he got the stronger the feeling welled in him that he was being watched. Dismissing the feeling as quickly as it came he swam to the car and noticed something strange. There didn't seem to be any major damage other than the shattered rear window the boy had most likely broken when he plunged into the water. In fact it appeared as if the car had simply driven off the road into the lake. He moved to the driver's window and flashed his powerful light inside the car expecting to see some pour soul who had either fallen asleep at the wheel or had been driving drunk, their eyes and tongue bulging from their head, bloated with the grayest of complexions. Unfortunately he had seen it many times, more than he cared to remember.

On land, the slightly bored and more than a little inquisitive Sheriff began to search the area, but for what he didn't know. Walking to and fro he observed several branches on many of the trees were either broken or severely bent as if something quite large had recently come through the area and further in the woods he discovered a path had also recently been made, many of the young pine saplings were now bent at odd angles, and there were radial tracks in the sand, but they were scarce and had to be viewed from certain angles, none the less they were there. He began searching the rest of the clearing for more signs of tracks, but there were no more. It was like someone or something had intentionally covered them. Still this was part of Make-out Point and many teens came here to have a little fun, he had even done it a few times in his youth; a smile crept upon Frank Marshall's face as the years reversed themselves.

Terry Crenshaw, on the other hand was expecting the worse, but what he found was far beyond anything he had ever seen before. He noticed the woman first, or what was left of her mutilated corpse that is. Her punctured eyes were wide open with a look of terror, staring straight into his soul. Her flesh was floating about the vehicle and that which was still attached was bobbing all about her. Her limbs were gone, torn from her body, strewn about and floating around her. It was then Terry noticed the headless body from the driver's seat lying on top of her. Forcing back the bile that erupted from his stomach he shoved himself away from the vehicle and made a mad dash for the surface doing his best to hold back his breath and his brunch. To breathe was to retch. Terry reached the apex in a panic and struggled for the shore, white as a sheet, spatting out his regulator and howling for Frank, but as he reached the safety of the beach his body let loose and began gagging violently no longer able to keep his cookies in their place.

Yanked from his reverie by the frantic cries of his friend Frank ran for the beach just in time to witness the terrified diver spewing his daily special onto the soft brown sand that hungrily sucked it up. Reaching Terry, he drug him further up the beach and out of the water.

"It's all right, you're safe man. Get it all up. That's right. Calm down Terry. I need you to calm down." He finished vomiting as there was nothing left to bring up and shakily slowed his breathing to almost normal. His eyes were as blank as the cloudless afternoon sky while he related the discovery of the shredded woman and the headless body next to her. Terry had gone into shock. Within half an hour every officer on the Epson police force was at the lake dredging the car and its victims from its waters, and Terry Crenshaw was staring blankly at the hospital ceiling.

## Chapter Six

_...except the Lord keep the city, the watchman walketh but in vain._

Psalms 127:1

No Swimming Until Further Notice! It was the first time in their history that the residents of Epson, South Carolina had ever been banned from their favorite recreational spot and many were downright furious about it. Others were nearly hysterical over the public health noticed released that very day. What could be so bad about swimming in the lake? Of course, as soon as word spread that two dead bodies had been pulled from the lake, which took about ten minutes, the hospital and doctor's offices were flooded with concerned citizens, and those who just wanted to squeeze a little more information (or gossip) out of the doctors and nurses. The official story for the press spread like wildfire before the report even aired on the six-o-clock news and by that time everyone had their own versions of the story.

' _The couple had been identified as Annabelle and George Sheere from Boston who had been vacationing in Florida and were returning home. The driver, George Sheere, had run off the road shortly after leaving the Deer Lake Motel on highway 39 most likely due to the fierce storm. The vehicle was discovered the next day having sunk in Deer Lake. The car has been removed, but until the possibility of any health risks has been ruled out by local medical personnel the lake will remain off limits. When asked about the condition of the bodies all Sheriff Marshall would say was that there was damage to the bodies and that it was being looked into. Although he did mention the attack on Mr. Farley's livestock and urged citizens to stay inside during twilight hours and to avoid any stray or unknown dog.'_ As reported by Channel 16 News.

It took hours to collect all the pieces left behind of the poor souls in the lake and to be honest they couldn't be certain they had found all the remains, but what they did find of the Sheeres were held at the town morgue until an autopsy could be performed. Then they would be packaged and shipped to the couple's hometown for the funeral, but Epson was such a small community the town morgue was nothing more than the hospitals meager facilities, the basement. Other than natural causes most of the time the morgue remained empty. In case of an accident or a severe enough illness the patients were transported to a larger hospital in Charleston where they received more precise care. Not many specialists even practiced in Epson and the town itself consisted of one community hospital, two grocery stores, two gas stations, one restaurant, two fast food joints, one school K-12, a town paper, the town hall, one police station with combination fire station, four stop lights, and one hotel/ motel/ bed-n-breakfast. Nearly everyone knew each other and most were related somewhere along the lines by either blood or marriage. New blood was just that, new blood. It was in fact a small, sleepy, little town, and it's only natural in a set up like this that rumors of the wild dog attack spread like the plague. Some said it was actually wolves, others said cougars, and the more eccentric claimed it was escaped mental patients from Crystal Falls, Georgia. The town buzzed with the news, the kids with fear and excitement, the parents with concern. Traps were set in the woods and near the lake, and the town was put at ease with the assurance of the imminent capture of whatever creature was creating such havoc. Family pets were all invited indoors for the night and dates and outings were canceled to many hearts great disappointment.

At the station Frank Marshall, who just hours ago had pulled the bodies from water, sat at his desk his brow furrowed deep with worry. 'Wild dogs my... foot.' he thought. He was no doctor, no expert of any kind really, but he had grown up in this town and he knew the capabilities of a pack of wild dogs. Wild dogs don't attack people inside a moving vehicle. Maybe the couple hit one of the dogs stunning it and brought it into the car, then when it came to it panicked and attacked? No, that was too much of a long shot, besides it just didn't add up. Only the two passengers were found in the car, of course an animal could have escaped through the rear window that had been shattered, but that too was strange. The window had been broken from the outside in; shards were all over the back seat, front seat, victims, and the dash. Whatever did smash through the window had to have done it from the outside and had to have either been extremely large or powerful, and he was guessing it was both. No ordinary dog, wild or not, could decapitate a man like that either, the size of the claw and bite marks alone were astonishingly and frighteningly enormous.

The harsh florescent light did little to calm his nerves, the wild dog story was just that; a story and it was his job to not only find out what really happened to these poor people, but to protect the citizens of this town from whatever it was as well. It was his responsibility to stop this thing at all costs, but how far would he have to go to find the truth and could he accept the answers he found? What was it going to take to stop this unseen terror? There was no way to explain what had happened, at least no rational way. He had managed to keep the details secret from the public for now but how long would that last in a town this size? Hours at the most. When the time came what would he say, what could he say without causing a panic? "Uh, we don't know what kind of animal tore this pore woman limb from limb and ripped the head clean off her husband, but we do know that it has a strong jaw with a super-size set of teeth and immensely sharp claws. Thank you for coming. Oh and it's still on the loose. Good bye and have a nice evening." Yeah right, the entire town would be having nightmares and crazed, panicky monster hunters would come out of the wood work. That's all he needed on top of things was a bunch of edgy townsmen with guns, he'd be busted down to beat cop in a second, say goodbye to any chance of re-election.

To this day, or at least in the twenty-five years that he's been on the force, the town had yet to be the home of murder. He couldn't even remember any since before his grandfather's time. Suddenly an idea came to mind. Actually it was more like the urge to do something than an idea. It was nothing he could get his mind around, but he was drawn to his computer and on a whim he punched up the last murder that had happened in his sleepy little town. He may not be able to remember any, but since the installation of the new system every known fact about the town was within its circuitry and it might just have the answer he was looking for... and there it was.

In the year of our Lord 1874 a rash of deaths at first thought to be the result of animal attacks, but later ruled murders, plagued Epson. Chills raced through him as he continued thinking the records had to be wrong. They were of course quite old, mostly taken from crude town papers and documents from the previous town hall and heaven knows how they investigated things back in those days, but still facts were facts.

Six people were found murdered, countless animals killed, and more were missing; some never to be found again. Every body found had been horribly mutilated, many of the parts were never recovered and those who had lost most of their family were unable to even be identified. A rugged sketch of a man accompanied the file along with a wanted poster warning residents of the danger this man held for them. He had come to town after being driven from his own land, where exactly that was no one knew, for religious crimes and settled just outside of town. He was a model citizen, abiding all the laws of the time and not practicing anything of what was unknown at the time to be his true religious beliefs. The stranger eventually fit into the town without suspicion and those who knew of his past were led to believe that he was exiled for being a Christian in a heathen land. Years went by before anything unusual began to occur, at first it was only the disappearance of a few animals. Then entire herds were decimated, but things like that happened even near town and at times the mutilations were blamed on wild wolves, bears, and any other kind of beasts that could be rationally blamed. Days later a young couple who had been sneaking around together had disappeared as well, but no foul play was determined. It seemed that the two had eloped during the night in defiance of the young woman's parents not agreeing with their daughter's involvement with a young man not of their social standing. To the parents horror the idea of an inner-class marriage would have been a blessing when the bodies of four people were found so horribly mutilated they could not be individually identified. They had been discovered only a mile from town and were found to be travelers from Louisiana to Virginia; the only one to survive was a twelve-year-old girl. She had wondered into town half dead from exposure, even after recovering she would not speak of anything before the day she was encountered wondering down Main Street. Soon after the stranger vanished and the deaths ceased. It was later ruled when his home was searched that he was deeply involved in the black arts, so naturally the murders were lain on his head. Six ravaged bodies in all were unearthed including that of the stately young woman, but at least the terror had finally loosed its grip on Epson.

The evidence was shoddy, circumstantial at best; certainly not enough to condemn a man on, but those were different times. Still there were too many similarities to ignore. Maybe it was some kind of animal that had just never been seen before or who hadn't returned to the area until now. Curious, Frank Marshall scrolled through the article to find the identity of the survivor and read the name of his very own grandmother. He snatched his keys from his desk and dashed for the door muttering to the deputy that he had to run out for a while and to notify him when they heard from animal control. With that he was gone.

## Chapter Seven

_... the wrath of God cometh on the children of disobedience:_

Colossians 3:6

"Jeremy, phone!"

"I got it Dad! Hello?"

"Hey Jeremy, it's Michael. What's up?"

"Hey, not much. You?"

"Same. I was planning some stuff for tonight, but since the curfew..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I bet you're pretty bummed out about your date huh?"

"Not really."

"Not really! Are you feeling all right? This date is all you've been talking about."

"I mean the date's still on. I called Katherine right after the curfew was announced and we decided to sneak out any way."

"Are you crazy?"

"What? You think I'm gonna' get in big trouble if I sneak out... again? I've done it lots of times Michael, you know that. Half the time you snuck out with me, so what's the deal?"

"I know, but this time it's different."

"What, you mean because of the curfew?"

"Not that."

"Are, you afraid I might get eaten by a dingo?"

"That's not funny Jeremy."

"Come on man, what's the deal? Why are you getting all parental on me all of a sudden? Did you give this same speech to Jacob before you called me?"

"I just have a very bad feeling about all this that's all. You know about the dreams and stuff that I've been having, I didn't even know Jacob was going out tonight. Did he tell you he was?"

"No. Will said he'd been sneaking out every night lately and that Jacob would owe him big time for keeping his folks from finding out. I just figured he'd do it again tonight. What you didn't know?"

"No."

"So, have you had one about Katherine and me?"

"One what?"

"Dream! That's what all this is about isn't it?"

"No."

"See, there you go. You're just being paranoid."

"It's not that Jeremy; you're my best friend..."

"Well then stop harpin' on me. You know how long I've waited to go out with Katherine Price and no curfew or stupid dog is going to stop me. Tell me you wouldn't sneak out for a date like that?"

"Not this time, besides it's like your twelfth date anyway."

"Michael quit acting like a little girl. Nothing's going to happen, and it's our eighth date."

"I'm not acting like a little girl I'm acting like a guy thinking with his brain not with his..."

"Knock it off Michael!"

"You're the one acting like an idiot."

"I may be acting like one, but you are one!" With that the phone went dead with one push of the button. Jeremy had a date with Katherine Price, in his eyes the hottest girl in town and nothing and no one was going to prevent him from spending the night with her. Michael was just jealous.

But Michael wasn't jealous; he was just the opposite. The idea of his best friend and Katherine together made him happy. All Jeremy talked about was Katherine this and Katherine that, he knew they were serious. It was Michael who got them talking in the first place and he understood how Jeremy felt about tonight; he was just being a jerk. His thick head was going to get him into trouble one day and Michael was afraid that this was going to be that day. Anger and frustration only festered when he thought about Jeremy's attitude; after all he was only trying to help. Michael's mind filled with harsh words as he repeatedly jabbed at his beaten black punching bag hanging in the corner of his dark foreboding room. An obsession with death, darkness, and the mysterious things of this world had leaked onto the walls of his room where evil reigned. He himself was not evil in any way, and for the most part he didn't buy into the whole devil, demon thing, he just thought it was cool. The metal music reverberated off the walls and into his mind, he couldn't care less about its message, but it was fast, harsh, and it got his blood pumping and his mind off whatever problem it happened to be wrapped around at the moment and at this moment it was consumed with the nightmarish dreams that haunted him lately and the fear of death paying a visit to his best friend. Jeremy's refusal to listen infuriated him more and more and with each punch of the bag his anger only grew. Why wouldn't he listen? Why was he being so stupid? Punch after punch, question after question until all that was left was white hot anger, completely forgetting that Jeremy wasn't his only friend testing that cruel hand of fate tonight.

Jeremy's thoughts held nothing of what Michael's did, no beast, no psycho, and no curfew. Nothing except Katherine, beautiful, funny, smart, perfect Katherine and nothing was going to stop him from spending the night with her. No one in his right mind would give up a chance to be with her and tonight she was all his, the most sought after girl in Epson was his if only for a little while. Jeremy had been dreaming of her for over a year gazing at her from afar it seemed. There was something spectacular about her that he just couldn't get out of his mind. She wasn't like the bubble headed cheerleaders who giggled and flirted and teased their way through the student body. She didn't wear clothes two sizes too small that showed everyone what God had given her, and she didn't apply makeup like it was paint. Sure she was beautiful, but it was so much more than that. There was something inside her that drew guys of all ages to her, a kindness, a peace, a sense of adventure that drove him crazy. The girls didn't care much for her, at least not the shallow ones which snubbed her at times, but something about that loneliness made her even more desirable. Maybe it was her confidence that turned him on, but whatever it was he was going to spend the night enjoying every minute of it no matter what the cost. It had taken him months to build up enough courage to ask her out and now that they were together, nothing was going to stand in his way. He had planned a romantic candlelit picnic on the beach with some of her favorite songs and a whole lot of kissing. He knew he wouldn't get past first base; he wasn't going to try. Fact was he was still a virgin and he liked it that way. He didn't have to worry about STD's or daddy hood or the responsibility that sex brought into life. As far he was concerned he wanted to wait until he was married at least then he knew that the relationship was going to last and the girl wasn't going to show up a year after they had broken up and hand him a kid. Jeremy grabbed the picnic basket that he had packed earlier while thoughts of Katherine put a smile on his face that nothing could rub off. Maybe he would marry her and have a house full of kids one day. He bounded down the stairs secure in the knowledge that his parents were oblivious to his leaving. They were entranced in the living room completely fascinated by the book that he and his friends had found; and had informed him that it was quite old and rare or something, he wasn't really paying attention; oh and the binding was made of skin. Gross. Both of his parents worked at the science museum in the city and to them the book was an amazing find. With any luck the two would still be translating the pages when he returned to his room never knowing he had left, sneaking out had never been so easy. All he had to do was walk right out the back door, push his dirt bike a few blocks down the street before starting it and off he went to pick up his dream date.

Katherine had crawled out her bedroom window in the typical teen fashion and was waiting for him at the end of the drive. She beamed as her knight in blue jean shorts rode up on his trusty steed and hopped onto the back of his bike before racing off to the lake. All cares and concerns were forgotten as the couple walked hand in hand along the shore kicking water onto each other and playing like children in the sand. They watched the sun set on the lake and spread their blanket wide while laughing, talking, and enjoying the snacks that Jeremy had packed. As God painted the sky deep hues of pink, blue, orange, and purple Jeremy played the playlist he had made.

"Jeremy, that's my favorite song!"

"I know it is, and now it's our song. Could I have this dance?" The stars arrived one by one to watch the couple dance under their glow in the most perfect night either had ever known. The couple danced through many of the songs holding each other close before deciding on a moonlight swim, the perfect end to another perfect date. Being a gentleman, Jeremy walked into the woods to put on his trunks, but as the minutes passed the sinking feeling that something was wrong began to gnaw at Katherine.

"Jeremy? Come on Jeremy things are getting creepy out here all by myself. Quit fooling around, besides wouldn't you rather be out here with me?" Her voice was quaking and she did a pretty lousy job of hiding her anxiety, but her calls all went unanswered.

## Chapter Eight

_Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; ... Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; ... A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee._

Psalm 91:5-7

No sound could come from Jeremy's lips, he was in agony. He had decided to walk into the trees to put on his swimming trunks so Katherine wouldn't see him change, but the entire time he felt as though he was being watched; stalked almost. Then he knew; he was not alone and yes he was being stalked, but he could see absolutely nothing in the pitch dark of the trees, they blocked every bit of light that the moon could provide. Jeremy was blind. Whatever this thing was; was close to him that much he could feel. Too close to him in fact. Swinging wildly, he struggled to see, searching for this thing that he knew was near; not caring if he was buck-naked. Exposed in more than one way.

Katherine, that's it, Katherine must be playing a joke on him. That had to be it, but just as he tried to call out her name, to spoil her trick, he found himself falling to the ground; pain wracking his entire body. Jeremy felt as if he was being ripped apart piece by piece. He was dying in the woods. His thoughts, consumed too much with pain let only one realization in and that was it. 'He was dying in the woods; alone and naked.' Never seeing his attacker, the source of all his pain, before he passed out, all he could see was the clouds; closing in on him, blocking out what was left of the night sky. This was it.

A girl's voice cut through the night in an effort to find Jeremy, Katherine had no idea what indeed was waiting for her within the trees. It may have been hidden from her, but the creature knew exactly where she was. It could smell her scent, hear her heart beating, see her glowing silhouette in the waning moonlight, the creature could almost taste her blood and bones between its razor teeth; and soon it would. She was young, fresh, and pure; a delicacy to be savored. The other killings, though tasteful and somewhat satisfying, had been over too quickly. The creature was no longer thrilled with just ripping apart its prey. It wanted more than to shred her body to bloody pieces; the creature wanted to play with its food first. It wanted to chase her, to track her down, to smell her fear, her sweat, to hear and even feel her pulse racing, and then when it was ready, when the girl was ripe it would strike. Slowly devouring her. Ripping the skin from her arms and legs while she watched; writhing in pain. Her screams would be its music, then it would let her crawl away only to pounce once more. It would hold her down snapping at her, pawing her flesh to shreds, and then, right before she fell into unconsciousness it would sink its teeth into her face and neck to feel one final surge of life before death.

Slightly scared, but not wanting to show it, Katherine, began walking into the dark and suddenly menacing woods. Little did she know that the hunt was on. Half expecting Jeremy to leap out and grab her, half fearing that he wouldn't; she called out to him one last time, but the reply she received was not Jeremy's.

The creature breathed deep and hard almost growling at her; commanding her to run. For how was it supposed to chase its meat if she didn't run?

Katherine rose to the bait swinging around, striking the beast in the jaw, mistaking it for Jeremy. Feeling not the soft, warm face of a lovable prankster, but the course, hairy, wet, hot flesh of a monster.

It only smiled at her, turning back its thick, rubbery, black lips; presenting its bone white and blood stained teeth.

A shriek of terror surged throughout her body and across her lips sending her backwards deeper into the woods. Soon it would catch up to her and then... she immediately realized her mistake and with a burst of adrenaline changed directions, heading for the open beach and the motorcycle. Her heart pounding harder than ever before and her legs pumping faster than she had ever pushed them, she burst through the trees and onto the sand with such force that the soft granules gave way beneath her feet. Her arms flailed wildly as both her legs went in opposite directions. Katherine regained her footing, but in turn lost what precious little time that she had put between her and her hunter. Panic began to engulf her, clouding her mind as she continued to run down the shore. Her hopes of reaching the bike had all but dissipated when she saw it standing in wait like an angel in the sand. She was saved; or so she thought. Twenty feet, ten feet, five, with a sharp growl and a snap of its massive jaws the thing of nightmares was in front of her, blocking the bike and her escape. Shrieking, Katherine slid to a stop leaving her sitting in the sand. Turning back towards the woods and scrambling to her feet she ran. Even her mind was beginning to play tricks on her; she could have sworn she heard the thing laughing.

It wasn't her mind; it was laughing at her enjoying the chase it had desired for so long. Exhilaration consumed the beasts' body; a high greater than any drug man could experience. So much so that it had to use every fiber within its twisted body to restrain itself from lunging after her. No, it had to be patient, to savor it. She had to suffer, so it laid in wait. Soon lightning streaked across the blackened sky followed by an explosion of thunder so strong it shook the ground. Then came the sheets of falling rain as thick as curtains. Each drop evaporating as it hit its fur ridden body leaving an eerie mist of steam enveloping the monster from Hell. Suddenly, without warning it let out a deafening, screeching howl loud enough to wake the dead. The hunt was on once more and this time no more waiting. The thirst for carnage was now beyond control and only a gruesome massacre could calm its own blood lust.

Exhausted, wet, terrified, and in agony Katherine struggled with her mind and her sanity. She knew in her gut that the creature was no longer right behind her, but she could not allow herself to slow down, because she also knew that she had not yet escaped death's grip. That thing was intelligent enough to cut off her path to the bike, a thought which terrified her. It had to have known her intentions which meant that not only was the thing capable of thought, but of reasoning and in no way was it just going to give up and let her go. The rain had come fast and hard and with it the unholy howl of the beast. She knew then exactly what its intentions were; it was hunting her. Tracking her through the woods; playing some sick game of predator and prey. The chase was on again, she knew this, and as the ground began to turn from sandy to rocky she struggled not to slow her pace. The trees began to thin out; the stony terrain became steep and sharp. Katherine was forced to slow down, and the realization that she would soon have to seek some sort of hiding place worked itself from the back of her mind to the very front; until hiding was her only thought. It would catch up to her within seconds and when it did she would face a fate worse than death itself. Hiding was her only hope now. Even the road was not an option for her. At this time of night no one would be out especially with the curfew and she would be in the open; an easy target. She continued over the rocks, the road to her right and the lake to her left, Katherine was trapped.

The thing from beyond the deepest depths was closing in on her, though it was taking its sweet time, imagining every little thing it was going to do to her soft pink flesh, smelling everything, enjoying the hunt. Her fear, her heart beat, her sweat, all enthralling and enticing it forward. The beasts own heart beating with excitement was in rhythm with her own fear ridden one. Its breath as deep and heavy with anticipation as was hers with fatigue. Its muscles as tight and sore with rage as was hers with weakness. It was time to quicken the pace and bring its cornered meal to its brutal end.

The horrifying screams of delight and torture were growing louder with every second, echoing in her ears and her mind. Not even the roaring thunder could drown them out of her soul. Each cry a taunt to her saying, "I'm coming. I'm coming closer... and closer. I'm coming to get YOU. I know where you are. I know you're close. I'm coming. You'd better run. RUN!" The faster she ran from her tormentor the more difficult it was for her to keep her balance, she was running over rocks and scrambling over boulders blindly feeling her way as best she could. Katherine could barely see between the darkness and the rain, but now hot salty tears were flowing, blurring everything around her. She was beginning to lose all hope of surviving when her foot slipped and she began to fall uncontrollably into a hole. Her body hit the hard dusty ground of the hidden cave with such force that every ounce of air was knocked from her lungs. Her back and buttocks began to bruise as a new kind of pain surged through her body, but the worst part was that she had no idea where she was or what had happened to her. Her hands were clutching solid ground covered with a layer of loose dirt, sand, and fresh mud, and her breathing seemed to echo all around, surrounding her. Too terrified to cry out for help or even to cry out in agony, Katherine slowly dragged herself across the coarse cave floor. The feeling of safety still evaded her, leaving her shivering as she groped her way to the furthest wall crawling tightly behind a formation of stalagmites. Her breathing was as hard and rapid as her pulse, and her heart beat so fiercely it nearly drowned out the horrifying howls of her tormentor, and threatened to burst from her chest from fear and weariness. Struggling to block out the terrifying chills of its angry cry, yet knowing that she must listen tore at her sanity. She needed to know, and only by listening would she learn how close the thing was to her, and how close she was to an agonizing death. The more she strained her ears the harder the rain pounded and the louder the thunder clashed until there was nothing but the raging storm outside.

After what seemed like an eternity of sitting motionless, waiting in the menacing entity of blackness that swallowed her mind, body, and soul, Katherine's heart finally began to slow and the pounding in her ears gently eased, as did her breathing. A calmness began to embrace her body and Katherine reluctantly began to relax, carefully allowing herself to close her red, stinging eyes and bow her head thankful to God Almighty that she had at last, finally evaded the demon. Exhaustion and panic had engulfed her entire being as she broke down into an uncontrollable sob. All of the terror that she had struggled so hard to suppress in order to keep her senses about her had shoved through the floodgates of her mind and was now tirading her soul, until she no longer had the energy to cry. Slowly she drew her knees to her chest and laid her soaking wet head on the rocky wall behind her. Finally, empty tired and sore, she opened her swollen bloodshot eyes to the darkness around her. A mistake she immediately regretted, the storm was at its zenith and with a clash of thunder and stroke of lightning, a horrifying figure loomed in the newly apparent entranceway of the cave. How long the demon had been there she did not know, but death had found her and she was completely trapped.

Raised upon its massive, matted, hind legs, the beast swayed slowly back and forth, its rubbery nose inhaling quickly yet deeply, pinpointing her blood ridden body, and smiling.

Katherine froze; daring not even to breathe, but still it came closer and closer to her rocky hiding place and to her.

The creature swayed and sniffed, swayed and sniffed, covering every inch of the confining cave. It knew exactly where its toy was hiding; that she had nowhere to run, and with each second the beast prolonged its grisly attack it could smell and taste the fear welling within her. Finally it crept towards the massive stalagmite, the girl's final resting-place, snapping its saliva dripping jaws and puffing steaming hot breath from its leathery, wrinkled nostrils. This was the moment that it would rip out her still beating heart while she watched on in terror.

Katherine could only stare in awe as the creature slithered through the cave, covering every inch, smelling for her. Utterly helpless, all she could do was shake her head as it lay against her rocky prison. Then without warning a ray of hope flashed as Katherine felt her head dip into an opening beside her. Whether it was a hole or just a dip in the rock she couldn't tell, but she had to try and in that same instant the thing leapt over the stalagmite, swinging its massive arms to catch her flesh and rip her open. She shoved her arms into the opening and pulled with all the strength that she could summon within her.

The monsters claws screeched in frustration as they scraped the rocky wall and tiny sparks of light exploded in fury. It screamed with the rage of Hell as it managed only to tear off her shoe and not her head. Its ears perked up sensing every vibration, every sound from the room beyond. Its eyes magnifying the lightning to behold its victim scramble against yet another rocky wall grasping at it, pathetically attempting to scurry away from her fate, but no matter how the beast twisted, turned, thrashed, or clawed at the opening its massive upper body would not squeeze through. The demons rage built and its blood boiled as the thing doubled its efforts. Slashing, clawing franticly at the ageless cave wall each time sending sparks flying like fairies escaping from an eternal prison, it tried with all its might to break away the barrier between them and slink through, finally relieving its pain and anger upon the soft pink flesh of the ripe girl inside.

Again, lightning streaked the sky, lighting the outer room of the cave as well as the monster inhabiting it. With each swipe of the claws, sparks flew into Katherine's sanctuary, yet the realization that the thing could not fit through the hole had not set in. As franticly as the creature was trying to get in, she was now trying to find something to defend herself with. On her hands and knees, her arms moving wildly back and forth, her hands groping for anything as drastically as it was clawing the wall, her hand came to rest on what she, with a little probing, discovered to be a deformed skull. Disgusted, she screamed and not at the monster for once. She dropped the malformed bone to the sandy ground, and suddenly everything went quiet. With a flash of lightning, the demon had disappeared into the storm and she was finally alone.

## Chapter Nine

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;_

Psalms 23:4

Officer Frank Marshall held his hat firmly against the driving wind and rain to keep it from flying off his balding head, while he quickly raced across the parking lot to his car. The drops were falling in sheets and it quickly saturated the Sheriff's clothes. This storm had mysteriously come out of nowhere soaking the ground and leaving standing pools everywhere you stepped, but this was summer and sudden storms weren't uncommon.

Frank swung open the door of the unlocked police car. In this town there had never been a need to lock your vehicle, but after the recent deaths that was one habit Frank had quickly decided to break, thrusting his dripping self inside, and slamming the door behind him. He wasn't a puny man by any means, he was fairly fit, though he had yet to have to run down a suspect or chase after a criminal. Although a muscle man he wasn't, the word "beer belly" was something of a curse word to him, so there he stayed somewhere between muscle man and flab man, with a few love handles of course.

With the slamming of the door, the officer had shut out the wind, the rain, and all of the elements that were fighting nature that night and with a turn of his key the engine roared to life, its glowing headlights showing him the way out of the parking lot and toward his destination. As Little Red Riding Hood, he was going to his Grandmother's house and all he needed right now was to run into the Big Bad Wolf. The thought made him chuckle and if it had been a wild dog or wolf hybrid that had so brutally murdered those poor people he should very well watch out or the Big Bad Wolf would cross his path.

No sooner had the image run though his own tired mind than someone or something flashed across the road in front of him and into the trees beyond. Frank blinked wildly shaking his head in total disbelief then hesitantly chopped the whole thing up to an over active imagination. Between the recent deaths, the storm, and his amusing Little Red Riding Hood analogy it's no wonder that he's seeing things dart out at him. He began to laugh at his own stupidity, but his laugh quickly died as the sight in front of him registered in his brain. The rain distorted everything, yet standing in the middle of his lane was a large figure that seemed to be motioning him onwards... smiling.

Without blinking Frank franticly pumped the anti-lock brakes, still he plowed right into the thing, screeching to a halt yards away. His mind could not accept what had just happened, it didn't want to. He had never hit anything in his life and now he had just run down some poor soul in the middle of the street. His hands refused to let go of the steering wheel and his eyes wouldn't open. It could not have been real, it just couldn't have, the thought of hitting some kid playing a joke or some stranded motorist, or even the thought of hitting some one's beloved pet tore at his heart and his conscious.

He prayed that it wasn't a child. "Didn't he know that he could've been hurt or even killed, let alone hurt or kill somebody else?!" Concern flooded over Frank along with his training. Even more hurriedly than he got into his car he jumped out, not caring about the storm that raged outside; only the storm of emotions inside mattered now. Slipping wildly on the drenched pavement he ran to the rear of his car expecting to see the body of some decimated soul lying behind him in the road. Nothing. Worse, had he dragged the body along? He slowly walked to the front of his vehicle. Nothing. He checked the sides of the road, still nothing. There was only one place left to look... underneath. With his flashlight shining brightly Frank descended to all fours and braced himself for the gore he was about to witness. He called out to the wretched victim underneath his vehicle that was sure to need immediate medical attention, but there was no answer. There was no body. It had been his imagination after all. Frank shook his head in bewilderment and peered one more time at the emptiness underneath his car, but the light went out leaving him staring into the darkness. He rose frustrated into the headlights of his cruiser and came face to face with a smiling big bad wolf. Its rotting breath hot and putrid in the rain just inches from Frank's own face made his stomach turn as he kneeled, frozen in disbelief. The shadow of the beast's mammoth paw crossed the officer seconds before it brought it down again and with one mighty swipe it tore his nose from his face spurting blood high into the falling rain. One claw caught his eyeball popping it like a ripe zit that gushed fluids of all kinds into his exposed nasal cavity, the razor sharp claws slicing his cheek like a paper shredder ripping his lower lip from his mouth sending it bouncing into the distance. Frank fell onto his back with a thud, stunned, not wanting to believe that the creature standing over him grinning at him was real, but the pain wracking his body and the blood flowing freely from it was real. His tormented mind quickly changed and he faced the reality when the monster embedded teeth and all into his gut ripping his steaming hot intestines from his belly, watching as the thing chewed them up then spat them back in his face. Blood, bile, digestive juices, and other fluids mixed with the pouring rain and drained from his dying body as he went cold. His vision blurred and his remaining eye rolled back into the darkness of his head as a soft gurgling whisper emanated from the holes in his face. The words were as mutilated and misshapen as his body now was, but they weren't for anyone on earth to hear and he spoke them with his damaged mind and his longing soul.

"Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever." With his last conscious breath he sighed, "Amen." And with it his soul left his body lifting away from the evils of the earth and ascended into his heavenly home for all eternity, leaving behind only a shell for the beast to shred as it desired.

And that it did. The loss of the girl had sent it into an uncontrollable rage seething for blood and it would not stop until this human was nothing but a pile of pulp and bone. So it relentlessly continued to tear, slice, shred, and crunch the remains of Officer Frank Marshall. Chunks of flesh flew in all directions and steam rose from both the carnage and the monster. The rain fell so heavily it hid all traces of the events violating the night, washing the pieces into gullies and the blood into muddy streams. The butchery continued, but the pleasure had dwindled into nothingness when its sacrifice gave up the ghost and left this earthly plane. The ultimate pleasure came only from the pain and torment of its offering, now gone.

Ceasing its massacre the beast breathed deeply inhaling the salty remains of the very tasty Frank Marshall then stood erect, stretching its long fur ridden arms to the heavens as if reaching to pluck something from the sky. As with the nights before it let out a mighty howl and ordered the storm back from whence it came, it had served its purpose and cover was no longer needed.

Its fury had been released and soon it would be able to sleep in peaceful contentment once more. The first victims had been discovered, this one warranted no hiding, its presence was known now. It lowered its massive head to the sodden road and sniffed the sweet smell of the dismembered carcass one last time then slinked into the darkened woods, disappearing as if it never was. The only evidence of the night's dismay was that of the lone police cruiser, awaiting its own death, its lights blazing like a spotlight in the night on the bloody remains of the man who would have learned the truth. The moon emerged from its clouded refuge and shown bright and full over the cursed town below; the only witness to a lone figure carrying another in the deep of the night.

## Chapter Ten

_...I was delivered out of the mouth of the lion._

II Timothy 4:17

The suns early morning rays stretched out its glistening fingers touching the eyes of two young lovers, sleeping soundly in each other's' arms, peeking over the trees and running its heavenly light across the water to warm the sand. Jeremy awoke slowly, shielding his eyes from the brightness of the rising sun then turned to see Katherine cradled in his arms. It took a moment for the fog to lift from his mind allowing him to remember where he was. Rolling onto his side he gazed down at Katherine's beautiful face and smiled. He regretted having to wake her, but he had to get both of them back home before either of their parents found that they were missing. He wanted to live to see his next birthday. With the clock ticking away he slowly lowered his lips to her cheek kissing her softly. Katherine bolted upright, screaming in terror, bashing Jeremy's nose with her forehead sending tears welling in the boy's eyes.

Her shrieks dwindled down as she looked around to see a calm lake and a beautiful sunrise, but her breaths still came in gasps as she recalled the face of evil that had haunted her.

"Jeremy! You're alive!" Relieved she flung her arms around his neck and squeezed.

"Katie... I can't breathe! Katie..."

Suddenly embarrassed she let go and sat staring across the lake desperately trying to figure out what had happened.

"What's wrong? Of course I'm alive."

Still confused, but more self-conscious than before she told him, "When you went into the woods last night and didn't come back I thought you were joking around with me. You know, trying to scare me, but when you didn't come back I got worried and came looking for you. Then this thing came after me."

"Whoa, wait a minute. What thing?"

"It was a monster, a werewolf or something, but smart! It chased me into the woods and attacked me, but I hid in a cave and it couldn't get me. Then it just left."

Jeremy tried as hard as he could not to laugh. His father had taught him never to laugh at a woman when she was being serious, but it was so hard not to. What was she talking about? Werewolves. It was just too funny and his chuckles of laughter came through.

"Jeremy Theodore Kinsington! It's not funny! I really thought you were dead!"

"I know. I'm sorry Katie. It sounds like you had a really bad nightmare."

"It was more than a nightmare Jeremy. It felt real."

All joking aside, Jeremy pulled up close to Katherine and put his arm around her, soothing her, "You know what must have happened?"

"What?"

"We must have fallen asleep right after talking about that couple that they pulled out of the lake yesterday and old man Farley's cattle. That's what must have given you the nightmare. I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't mean it. I care a lot about you Katherine and I don't want to mess that up for anything." Where did that come from; Jeremy wondered. He was telling her how he felt, putting his heart on the line and without a second thought.

Any doubts about his admission were soon abated when Katherine looked at him and replied, "I care about you too Jeremy." They held each other for only an instant before gathering their senses and their things.

"We'd better get out of here, and you'd better get me home before my father finds out I'm gone. I don't want him to kill you before you can sneak me out again." A coy smile played on her face as they rushed to gather their things and jump on his bike heading for home. A thousand thoughts danced through both their minds on the short ride to her drive, but none of them had to do with the demon from Katherine's dreams. Jeremy let her off at the entrance to her subdivision and gave her one last quick kiss before speeding off to his own driveway and to what could be his impending doom if he had been caught, or worse; ratted out by his so called best friend. His paranoid best friend.

No noise came from the Price home, but Katherine was still cautious climbing back into the window she had escaped from. She peered all around for an attack from an angry parent before scrambling back into her room. She slowly opened the door to the hall and heard only the dull snore emanating from her parents' bedroom. She had made it.

Jeremy on the other hand resided on the second floor and there was no crawling into his window since his escape tree had been cut down last fall. Luckily that didn't matter this time. He walked right through the back door careful not to step on the squeaky board and sauntered silently up to his room. As he had expected both of his parents were still completely engrossed in the translation of the old book that he and his friends had found only days ago, oblivious to his absence. If he didn't know that they both loved him immensely he would have been offended.

Katherine kicked off her shoes and slid from her sand ridden clothes leaving them crumpled on the floor by the bed. She reached for her favorite terrycloth robe lying across her still crumpled poster bed and headed for her private bath. Her room like most teens was her sanctuary. No matter how cold or nasty the world around her got, her refuge was the center of peace and it was spring all year round. Her walls were as feminine as the rest of her room with tiny pink roses on a white background that matched her bedspread and sheets perfectly, and the gentle breeze from her open windows made her curtains dance ever so slightly sending shadows waltzing across her moth colored carpet. The sun filled the light airy room, reflecting off the vanity mirror, scattering miniature beams in all directions.

Katherine stood in front of the bathroom sink and stared at the ghostly reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and purple, her hair was full of sand, and her body ached all over from her siesta on the beach. A warm and gentle breeze caressed her sandy face and the sunlight gently massaged her skin as the curtains fluttered from the open window beside her and for an instant she fell asleep nearly knocking her cleansers and lotions from their porcelain perch.

A long luxurious bath was just what the doctor ordered, but from the time her watch revealed her mother would soon be calling her to breakfast, so a brief shower would have to do. Katherine closed the lid to the stool and sat down, stretching her sore limbs, and perused the décor which matched the bedroom. She yawned long and hard then leaned over and pulled back the lavish shower curtain revealing the equally extravagant bath that was her Christmas present. It was large enough for two and extremely relaxing when the time permitted. She twisted the polished brass knob then relaxed against the toilet while waiting for the water to grow hot. Her head bobbed as sleep took over, and she succumbed for only a minute before rubbing her eyes and adjusting the temperature for comfort. She removed her watch and her treasured locket and hung the robe on its hook, then dragged herself under the rejuvenating falls. The lather from her loofah cascaded down her worn body covering the fresh bruises developing all down her lacerated back. On the floor of the bedroom by the window lay her clothes, torn, and dirty, with traces of blood soaked through the back, and a gash in the sole of her shoe.

*****

The warm gentle breeze fluttered curtains as it swept across the lake, scattering fragrant flowers, rustling fresh green leaves, and wafting clouds of dust and dirt onto the streets where it glued to the spot where only hours ago the bodily remains of Officer Frank Marshall had lain. Now only the tiniest amount of blood streaked sand and dirt lay beside the police car in the middle of the road. There was no further sign of the missing officer.

## Chapter Eleven

_... rest yet for a little season._

Revelation 6:11

Jeremy collapsed face first into his soft feather pillow, giving not a thought to his filthy clothes or his mud ridden shoes. After a deep relaxing breath he sluggishly rolled over and was met head on by the bright morning sun gazing through his open window. His hand flew to the defense of his bloodshot eyes as his other groped the wall for the cord that would release the shield of blinds. His fingers chased the cord back and forth in his haste to shut out the piercing light. It seemed to him to have grown a mind of its own, now playing some sort of early morning prank, but in the end he was triumphant and down the blinds came with a thud, cutting off the horrendous radiance of the sun. His hand left his eyes to fend for themselves as he mustered enough energy to sit up and close his Clemson curtains. He no longer liked the team, but it was either them or those lame frilly white ones that his dear old decorating disaster mother wanted to put up.

His room was small, but he liked it. His bed was nestled nicely in the corner and though it had no head or foot board it suited him well enough. At the end of his twin bed a desk had been built into the wall. It was his idea "to save space", he proposed to his father, but in reality he liked the idea of using the edge of his bed as the chair so when he grew tired of homework all he needed to do was flop back and boom; total comfort. Which he did regularly. He had only the one window that faced east and he wasn't a morning person by any means, but the tree that had been there at one time was the perfect escape route when needed. Unfortunately the few rotted limbs that were discovered when the leaves had begun their autumn decent left his father fearing an unwelcome house guest and he had the tree cut down. He claimed he had spent too much time and money fixing up the place to have mother nature come crashing through the roof one stormy night. At first Jeremy was bummed about his getaway tree being removed, but the thought of being crushed to death by it was worse than losing a few nights of freedom. That was until Katherine came into his life that is. Now he'd give anything to have his accomplice back. His thoughts and dreams drifted back to the beach and his night with her. He replayed every instant from the moment he saw her leaning against the brick entryway bearing the name of her subdivision. Each moment was burned forever into his memory and he knew in his soul that years from now he would draw from the well of his past the memory of last night. Her smile, her walk, the feel of her arms around him and the smell of her all flooded back to him. It was a perfect night up until they fell asleep. Jeremy strained to remember actually when he had fallen asleep, but the last memory he had was walking into the woods to put on his suit and the feeling of being watched... or hunted. Icy fingers slid up his spine as he concentrated on that moment. He shuddered at some unseen menace, some evil that was lurking at the edges of his consciousness. Finally he put the whole thought aside convincing himself that he must have fallen asleep even earlier than he thought and dreamed the rest. Still he had an overwhelming feeling deep within him that they both had barely escaped a horrible fate that no one should ever have to face no matter how horrible they may be.

Sleep began to creep up on him, but he wasn't ready to give in just yet to its draw. He forced his eyes to focus on his surroundings in an effort to drive the sleep from them. In lieu of a head board he had three shelves at the head of his the bed placed high enough to avoid any headaches. Believe me ten times is enough to make anyone move them up a couple of feet. His walls were adorned like many teens with posters of ageless cartoon characters, action heroes, rock bands, and movie posters all which had been hanging on his walls for years. The only thing his room lacked was an assortment of bikini babes, but that's where his mother drew the line. She was a modern career woman, but she taught him to respect women and that meant no girly pictures. At first her demands infuriated him, he couldn't see how a few bikini pictures would be any harm, but as the years grew he had begun to understand. Chris was his friend, but the way he talked about girls would almost make a sailor blush. His room was wall to wall flesh and even though Jeremy had once made any excuse possible to visit him somewhere along the way things had changed. Now the pictures were somewhat embarrassing especially when he thought about Katherine. He hated to admit it, but his mother had been right. About that at least. He had Katherine, all Chris had was his pictures and a yearbook full of girls that refused to speak to him.

Jeremy closed his eyes again, he could no longer look at his room without thoughts of changing it taking over, but he dare not mention it even to himself. He knew that if he so much as hinted at wanting to change anything his mother would be in his room with pastel paint, flowered wallpaper, pictures of big eyed puppies, and frilly everything quicker than anyone could stop her. Once he let it slip that he wanted to paint his room Zambezi purple to enhance the effect of his black light, and when he came home from school that afternoon he found his mother in his room with a measuring tape, two gallons of lavender semi-gloss, and a huge smile. Ever since that day his room remained locked when he was out. He wasn't hiding anything; he just didn't want to come home to the Lifestyles of the Pink and Fluffy.

"Mom should have a girl, then she can leave me alone and I won't have to sleep with one eye open." He opened his eyes one last time to make sure his room was still his own, satisfied he let himself relax into nothingness. Closet bulging, desk cluttered with comics, magazines, dirty dishes, papers, and clothes, an empty laundry basket and a full floor, old cd's shoved anywhere they would fit, and his new stereo placed proudly on the top shelf above his bed. This was his sanctuary where he slept and dreamt while his parents were downstairs, unlocking the mysteries of an ancient, deadly, horror.

*****

Aaron Kinsington closed his eyes and slowly removed the thin grey wire framed glasses from their resting place gently rubbing the tired orbs. It had been hours since he had rested his brain from the screen of his laptop and the many names, dates, and symbols pouring from it. He and his wife had been sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room for hours now and it wasn't until Aaron looked at his watch that he actually realized just how long they had been working. He gazed up at his wife and smiled, "Wendy, do you know what time it is sweetie?"

Still too entranced to notice anything but the book in front of her she ignored her husband. All that mattered right now was the puzzle before her so there she sat, Indian style, with a legal pad balanced on one leg, the book she was translating on the other, and a stack of reference books lying anywhere within her reach. The translations intrigued her greatly. At first the pages appeared to be written in Latin, and to some extent they were, but this was a dialect that had never been recorded before; at least not to her knowledge. Of course new dialects popping up here and there aren't uncommon. Some languages have many versions reflecting slang, accents, and region of origin, but it's always a kick to discover something new. This particular dialect seemed to come from an independent colony that formed or reformed their speech into a unique form of Latin. For Wendy Kinsington time mattered not and didn't even register, she was too fascinated to be concerned with such trivial things.

Aaron watched his wife as she brushed a soft auburn curl from her face and gently chewed her bottom lip, an obvious sign of deep concentration. The thick plastic rims of her own reading glasses were just heavy enough with gravity's help to slowly glide down her miniature nose causing her to gently guide them back to their proper place with her middle finger. His heart pounded as it did when he first met her and to him she hadn't changed one bit in the eighteen years of their marriage. Aaron smiled to himself as Wendy tapped her pen upon the notepad before her, another sign that she was deep in though and stubbornly dedicated to figuring out her latest enigma. That's what he loved about her, her dedication. If she wouldn't give up figuring out the secrets of history long passed than she wouldn't give up on him; even when he gave up on himself.

Memories replayed in his mind as he thought of her strength and determination finally landing on the memory of the day he found out that he was to be a father for the first, and so far only, time. He had all but gone out of his mind then. He knew that his wife had wanted children very badly, but he was absolutely positive that being a father was the last thing he wanted or needed. They had only been married a little over a year what was the rush? He tried to ignore it all together and even went as far as trying to convince himself and her that it was only a mistake and that it wasn't possible for her to be pregnant right then.

"I'm sorry Wendy, but it's just not possible right now. You just can't be..."

"Pregnant Aaron, the word is pregnant. And why not? Why isn't it possible?"

"Because it's just not the right time yet that's why. There must be something else causing it, a gland problem or something. We're just not ready yet. We've both got our careers and we've only been married a year. It's too soon." He realized later what a complete idiot he sounded like and he spent many months making up for it. She could have left him, she should have, but she saw through his panic attack right to the heart of the matter and better yet she understood.

For the next few days she avoided the subject completely and he was thankful, it gave him time to think. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind --- money, time, age, health, but in the end what it all boiled down to was fear. He was terrified that he wouldn't be a good father and would screw up the child's life as badly as his own father had almost screwed up his own. Scared that he would turn out to be as heartless as his old man had been. Scared of being a failure. So many "what ifs" ran through his head that he had begun to lose all sense of rationality.

"What if this? What if that? What if he or she is taken hostage by some crazed terrorist group and I can't save them?" Aaron gave a small chuckle at how far out his mind had actually wandered. That is where Wendy gave him the proverbial slap in the face.

"Aaron, you are not do you hear me, not your father. You never were. You severed any likeness between the two of you when you saw and realized that what he was doing was completely wrong and that it was his fault not yours. You learned what not to do from his example and that realization makes you a stronger man because now you can see the patterns that lead up to his actions and now you can prevent them.

Your father is jealous of you because of the love and affection that you received and he didn't, he just doesn't realize it. He chose to make others miserable by using the philosophy, "If I didn't get it you won't get it."

It's a shame that he was deprived of love and affection and it's a shame that he has deprived his family of the same, but you have the decency and the knowledge that what was done to you should never happen to anyone. If you were anything like your father I would not have married you and I sure wouldn't be standing here in front of you carrying your child. Look at our relationship compared to what your parents' was. You love me as much as I love you and I know it. You are a gentle loving man that is not only perfectly capable of love, but of being loved, and loving others. Now is that a picture of your father?"

She was right. I hate to admit that she's right and I'm... well wrong, but she was and is right. To this very day she still encourages me that I'm a good father. God bless her.

"Aaron honey, is there any coffee left?" This time it was Aaron who was not paying attention.

"Huh? What? Coffee? Yeah, I think so. By the way, what time is it dear?"

Wendy glanced at the clock above the TV. "Oh no! You won't believe this, but it's 10:23. We've been working all night!"

Aaron smiled at his beloved as she suddenly came to life as if awakened after a long slumber. The legal pad with all of her notes went flying from her lap onto the floor along with the book that only moments before she fingered with great delicacy. Wendy sprang to her feet and began racing around the room franticly searching for her purse, briefcase, and her keys while muttering to herself that she was late like Alice's little white rabbit, "Don't just stand there laughing Aaron you're late too. You'd better get going. Where are my keys? Have you got my keys?"

She was tucking her pale yellow polo shirt into her khaki shorts and heading for the door when Aaron's words caught her dead in her tracks.

"Hun, it's Sunday."

## Chapter Twelve

_Be not wise in your own conceits._

Romans 12:16

"Sheriff Marshall, this is dispatch. Do you copy? Over. Sheriff Marshall this is dispatch. Do you copy? Frank this is Gary where in the world are you?!" Only a soft crackle was heard over the radio, no reply, no Sheriff Frank Marshall. Officer Gary Carpell knew that Frank had been working extra hard to afford that diamond solitaire he'd picked out to give Sharon McLocklin who worked down at the youth center and that he'd been saving up for three months just so he could ask her to marry him. Good Lord knows that he needed his rest, but Gary couldn't find the sheriff anywhere and since Frank lived alone there was no one to tell him if he'd even gotten home alright.

The men from Animal Control had shown up almost two hours ago and they were far from happy. Knowing that he had to do something soon or the two men would leave and then both his and Frank's butt would be in a sling, he took it upon himself to take Frank's place until he turned up. Gary pushed back his chair and rose from the desk. He instructed one of the deputies to drive by Frank's place then headed to the lounge to smooth things over.

As he had expected one man was strongly built, wearing the uniform of an animal control field man. Tan in color, with the regulatory white iron on patch bearing the man's name precisely placed over his pocket, and of course accompanied by his matching baseball cap with 'Animal Control' embroidered in bold black lettering adorning his head leaving a small amount of blond hair protruding from its edges. He was seated on the undersized, black, vinyl couch across the room engrossed in the television mounted in the corner a few feet away.

The room was tiny, even by small town standards, but that mattered not to the thirty two year old 'dog catcher'. The room was cool in contrast to the searing heat that ruled the outdoors, even his numb rear from the uncomfortable couch was a pleasant change from crawling under homes in search for yet another snake that some frightened citizen claimed had invaded their home. This was the worst season for the slithering beasts and the thought of having to crawl in and under dark, dank, musty, tight places hunting the serpent that managed to cross someone's path sent chills throughout his body. "Give me a rabid wolf any day rather than a snake. God put those things on their belly for a reason and I don't disagree with him." He crossed himself while gazing towards the heavens then returned to the late morning cartoons that were scampering wildly on the screen.

The other man however had seated himself erect and rigidly at the minute table placed in yet another corner of the lounge, nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee that he had purchased an hour ago from one of the many nearby vending machines underneath the television set. He wore a navy blue pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt that looked as if it had just come from the factory, and a navy silk tie. His raven hair, expensive clothing, and buffed dress shoes were all in perfect order. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle, not even a scuff mark on his brightly polished footwear. Even the contents of his open briefcase and the hefty file he was examining were all in immaculate condition.

Men like that were not very popular in the town of Epson. Order is nice and necessary, but these stuffed shirt, anal, bureaucrats gave people the willies, some of the men on the force wondered if they were even human or some genetic government experiment. Clones with no personality or soul. Unfortunately this man had a personality.

The snake wrangler chuckled lightly at whatever antics were being played out in toon town causing the bureaucrat to roll his eyes and let out a huff of disgust. Then noticing the tiniest speck of fuzz had settled on his coat sleeve removed it immediately leaving his suit flawless once more. He was aware of the officer standing in the doorway but was in no way going to hurry after having been kept waiting for so long. The man nonchalantly placed the file along with his notes neatly back into his briefcase, closed it, and stood up using his hand to smooth out any would be wrinkles that resulted in sitting in that 'cheap' chair all morning. He stared defiantly at Gary then peered down at his watch and stated with his usual air of arrogance, "About time don't you think deputy?"

Gary noticed a large gold wedding band nestled tightly on his ring finger and wondered how any woman would put up with a man like the one standing in front of him. What he didn't know was that the woman represent by that bright 24 karat band had left him sixteen months ago, he continued to wear it for appearances only; after all what would people say if they knew that his perfect family wasn't and that the woman that had dedicated her life to him had simply walked out on him.

If he had cared as much about his family as he did his own image they would still be together, but love was never in the equation. He had married her not because he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but because he was twenty eight and it looked proper for him to take a wife and eventually start a family. His wife Carolyn had once asked him if he had been toilet trained at gun point... he didn't get it.

He didn't 'get' a lot of things. He may not have loved the woman, but he did care about her. He gave her a beautiful home, nice clothes, and a Jag. What else was there? Many women envied her and she should have been satisfied. He even gave her two children to fill whatever 'void' she claimed to have, but love was never a consideration. At least not for him. Carolyn on the other hand had loved him passionately. Like so many other women she was wild and Harold had given her direction, taken her in hand, and shown her how she could accomplish things great and small. She was completely devoted to him for the first four years of their marriage and had borne him two sons. She tried endlessly to be the model wife, but when it actually hit her that that was the only reason he had married her it devastated her. Her heart was torn to pieces, but her love for him kept her by his side struggling to earn his affection; hoping that one day he would turn to her and confess that he had fallen madly in love with her. As another year went by with no such confession she found herself in a torrid affair, but guilt led her to confess her sins to her iron-willed husband. He agreed to a quiet divorce leaving her complete custody of the children. "They're just too messy and time consuming without you here to watch them and clean up after them." were the last words he spoke to his wife the night he left. As with everything else dealing with his image he had put his own spin on the situation, after the divorce was finalized he would tell others that Carolyn had been having personal issues and could not handle the role as wife so he, being such an understanding husband, gave her the time and space that she required and since she couldn't bear to be separated from the boys he agreed to give her custody. He would be of course providing substantial support for both his children and his wayward wife. The sympathy and admiration he would receive from his peers would only add to his persona. The whole situation would work to his advantage, his appearance would be enhanced and he would be rid of his 'marital liabilities'. The final papers were nestled snugly in the file in his attaché case.

By the time Harold felt he was ready to introduce himself to the obviously incompetent deputy, Robert had leapt from the couch and thrust his hand at Gary introducing himself first.

'How inbred,' Harold thought to himself. Then he held out his own hand and proclaimed himself as "Dr. Harold Pintac, animal specialist dealing with the discovery and identification of species, and you are?"

Gary was not impressed. "Deputy Sheriff Gary Carpell and this is Robert Pango of Animal Control."

"I know who he is I met him two hours ago when I arrived here. Where is Mr. Marshall, shooing alligators off of the highway? I was told that my meeting would be with him."

"That's Sheriff Marshall," Gary replied struggling to keep his temper in check, "I'm deeply sorry for the delay..."

"As you should be," retorted Dr. Pintac.

"... Sheriff Marshall has been called away," Gary lied, "I will be filling in for him for the moment..."

"Are you sure you are qualified? Shouldn't a detective have been called in to handle this? I have questions that need answered if I am to assist with your little... problem, are you capable of answering any questions I may have?"

"Mr. Pintac,..."

"That's Dr. Harold Pintac! I didn't spend half my life in the most prestigious schools in the world to be called Mr. like some uneducated commoner!" His fury and arrogance boiled.

"My apologies," Gary said through the fakest of humility and admirations, "Dr. Pintac," Gary emphasized, "A detective is unnecessary in animal matters such as this and I have been working right alongside of Sheriff Marshall and am just as familiar with this situation as he is. I am positive that I can answer any inquiry that he can and if I can't he would not be able to either. Now if you will follow me to his office I can fill you in on why you have been called here." The animosity between the two men was instantaneous, but Gary refused to give the arrogant jerk the satisfaction of losing his cool. He had a feeling that at the first hint of uncooperativeness Dr. Harold Pintac would pack up and hit the road and though he hated it they needed him and his expertise.

Once in the office Harold took the larger of the two chairs for himself without an invitation leaving Robert the hard plastic one in the corner. In his own mind he was smarter, richer, and therefore more important than Robert and he was more deserving of the better of the two seats. If you could call it better.

"I understand that you have a situation with what you 'believe' to be an unidentified animal." Harold said smugly as he opened his satchel and removed a legal pad and pen. Gary switched off the monitor to Frank's computer, no sense giving this man anything else to scoff about, assumed his place behind his superior's desks, and took a mental deep breath so he could continue in the professional manner that was required.

"Yes Sir Dr. Pintac." Gary replied releasing the clenched fist he was hiding beneath the desk. He retrieved a file from Frank's top drawer and handed it collectedly to Harold. "Here is a copy of the medical reports and a few of the police reports along with the site photos. The first attack we contributed to a rouge pack of wild dogs. It's not uncommon for them to attack farm animals, small children, and even some hikers or campers outside of town if times are hard food wise. They usually do little damage only a couple of animals are usually lost to these packs. Not like what was found at Mr. Farley's farm a few days ago, as you can see from the photos and the total of livestock killed that we are dealing with something other than a few hungry wild dogs. Nearly all of his heard was lost and only one horse was spared. Whatever we're dealing with even butchered his germen shepherd Archie, all that was left was some fur and a couples of paws, poor pooch."

Gary registered a hint of sorrow in Robert Pango's face at the mention of Farley's beloved pet, but Harold Pintac was as stone cold as ever. "We attempted to retrieve any tracks from both attacks that would help in identifying the perpetrator, but the storms that have been raging through here each night have washed away all traces of prints. We even searched the roadside from the hotel that the Sheeres was last seen leaving all the way up to the lake and found nothing."

"I'm not surprised," Harold interrupted smugly, "No doubt from the lack of proper knowledge of how a real search should be conducted."

Gary's blood pounded and he could feel the heat growing within him, but he would not give into it, not yet. "We were able to identify the couple as a Mr. George Sheere age thirty four, and his wife Annabelle Sheere age thirty one, from Boston. They have one son named Clancy, age eleven, who is currently staying with his grandparents. It seems the couple was taking a second honeymoon down in Florida but they never made it home. The poor child's devastated..."

The bureaucrat rolled his eyes and stood from his chair in a hurry to 'move things along'. "That's all fine and dandy deputy, but I can see this in the report and it doesn't interest me in the least. What I am interested in though is the pathology report and that I don't see in this file. So why don't you do all of us a favor and fetch it like the good cop you are?" He was daring the yokel behind the desk to give him a reason, any reason, just one, to throw that file folder right back in his face and walk out the door behind him, leaving this hick town behind him forever. The deputy glared up at him knowing exactly what the man's intentions were, then smiled triumphantly and stood to meet his gaze.

"We haven't received that particular report yet, but if you would be so kind as to follow me across the street to the morgue you may ask the pathologist anything you like. You can even witness the autopsy if you care to. Gentlemen." With that Deputy Carpell motioned towards the door satisfied that he had not taken the obvious bait that Harold Pintac had dangled before him. Robert rose, but hung back allowing the two bulls to exit first. A blind and deaf man could feel the tension between those two and he wanted no part of it. He really didn't need to be there any way, at least not until the animal, if that's what it was, was identified so he knew what kind of traps to set. Until then he was just along for a ride that he was liking less by the minute.

The three men hurriedly crossing the street drew the attention of everyone within eyesight and tongues began to wag like wild fire. A police officer, a suit, and animal control all rushing to the hospital was big news and by four p.m., just hours after the three men were spotted, everyone in the town of Epson had their own version of what 'really' happened.

## Chapter Thirteen

_Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid._

John 14:27

"Edward, isn't that Sheriff Marshall's car down Ashton Drive?"

"It sure is Bonnie. He must on his way to visit that sweet sister of his."

"But his sister's in Georgia for the week and his car is just sitting in the middle of the road."

"Maybe he broke down. He and Susie are the only ones that use that street."

"Shouldn't we go back and see if he needs help? It's awfully strange him leaving his car in the middle of the road like that even broke down. Besides, why would he be going to Susie's anyway? She's not even there. Something's not right Ed, something's just not right."

"If he was in trouble dear he would call into the station on that radio of his, but if you're so determined we'll go back and look." After more than five decades of marriage Edward Andrews knew that Bonnie wouldn't stop until she had seen what was going on so he made a U-turn and headed back towards the sheriff's car and unknowingly, to the sheriff as well, or what was left.

Susanne Marshall had inherited the family homestead seven years ago when her mother had passed away from a heart attack. The house had been a wedding gift to her grandmother from her newlywed husband in the late eighteen seventies. The beautiful, hand built, two story, Victorian house with wraparound porch was still hidden from view nestled comfortably within the oaks, elms, crape-myrtles, and mimosa trees that made up the woods in that part of town. The only evidence of its existence was the three quarter mile path that led from the highway into the woods, though it was located only a couple miles from the center of town. Last year Frank had called in a few favors and had the gravel drive paved for his sister Susie, then named it Ashton Drive, in honor of its founder; their grandfather.

It was only by chance that Edward and Bonnie Andrews happened upon the abandoned patrol car. They only came to town once a week, on Sunday, after church to purchase the few groceries that were essential. The two elderly love birds lived on the same farm Ed's family worked just six miles from Susie on the opposite side of town from old man Farley. At one time the farm had provided many of the town folk with work, but as the years wore on and the Andrews' aged the crop size dwindled down to their own personal garden, one milk cow, and a few hens that provided them with most of their provisions. In her early days Bonnie had churned her own butter, baked her own bread, and even cultured her own cheese, but now a great grandmother of eighty-three years she chose, or rather her arthritic hands chose, to buy these necessities instead.

Ed made the left hand turn onto Ashton Drive and pulled behind the sleeping vehicle. Apprehension filled his heart as the moment came to investigate. There was no sign of the sheriff in the patrol car, and he could see no sign of him outside of it either, of course if Frank had jogged the rest of the way to the homestead to use the phone there wouldn't be any sign of him would there? Ed lifted the chrome latch of his eighty two LTD and gingerly pushed the door open, then he turn to Bonnie, "Best if you wait here dear."

"Are you sure? You might need help."

"If I need any help I'll call you, no since both of us draggin' our old bones in and out of the car too much. You just sit tight, I'll be back soon." Ed patted his wife's hand then swung his semi-retired legs out onto the pavement and called out to Officer Marshall. "Frank... you out here Frank? Need some help?"

When no response came from Frank Marshall or anything else for that matter Ed heaved the rest of his small frame from the metal monster.

"Frank..., Officer Marshall..., you out here?" Again he called out to the owner of the lone sedan and again he was met with nothing. Silence hung in the air and his apprehension swelled into an eerie dread. Cautiously Ed began to amble towards the auto, but the stench of death and decay that attacked his nostrils sent him backwards for an instant. The putrid fumes filled his sinuses causing his breakfast to churn and rise in protest. He quickly produced the tan handkerchief from his chocolate suit coat pocket, thrusting it to his face, covering his nose and mouth. Whether it was meant to keep the rankness out or the bile in was up for debate.

Fear and concern filled his core and he began to pray that the source of such demise was only the carcass of a stray dog or deer that had unavoidably lost its life and was now decaying in the summer heat. Bonnie had begun to exit herself, but he waved her back and shook his head. She didn't need to see the remains of whatever poor animal Frank had undoubtedly hit last night, and with the wind and rain that had doused the town the previous evening it was no wonder he had not been able to avoid the unfortunate creature. Ed desperately tried to convince himself that when he reached the front of the stranded auto he would find what was left of a deer. It had probably put a hoof right through the grill of the vehicle damaging it severely. Any minute now Sheriff Marshall would be strolling back to it, having waited until the storm cleared to remove the remnants and await a tow truck from King's Auto and the animal control people, but Sheriff Marshall was already there.

Ed closed his eyes and whispered a soft prayer before stepping within view of the carnage. Raising his head he opened his eyes, took in a not so deep breath, than peered down at the sight that would give Edward Andrews his first heart attack... and his last. There beneath him lying at his feet were the leftovers of the bloodless, mutilated corpse of Frank Marshall.

Eyeballs missing, teeth scattered, and unrecognizable bits of flesh littered the asphalt along with a few fingers, clumps of hair, crushed bones, and the tattered blood stained shreds of an officer's uniform. The flesh was pale white in places, but in others it had taken on the greens, browns, and blacks of rot. The elderly man could not decipher the rotten blackness from the swarm of flies laying their eggs that quickly matured into fat, wiggling, maggots. He had swung around as quickly as his body had allowed him and dared not look back, but it was not quick enough. Suddenly his stomach heaved and its contents rushed to the hot pavement, splattering next to the putrefying remains. Ed gagged and began to choke on his own vomit, his chest tightened, he couldn't breathe. His head was spinning and he barely noticed his loving wife rushing to his side.

Bonnie had been watching intently as her husband reluctantly stepped to the front of the sedan. She had begun to meet him when he waved her back, so she retreated to the LTD as he had wished, but when she witnessed her husband collapsing into a heap on the hard black road she moved faster than her many years should have allowed. Flinging the door open her feet barely hit the pavement before she was by his side, scooping him into her tiny, but determined arms, and gazing into his terrified eyes. Tears streamed down both of their wrinkled faces as they lay together in desperation. Bonnie noticed nothing beyond her man, not the birds, not the heat, not even the stench. All faded into nothingness as both their lives were altered forever in one single moment. She could feel the life giving away within her soul mate and within her own soul as well.

"Don't... look...," were the last words that Edward Andrews muttered, the last words his wife would ever hear from her dear husbands lips before leaving her alone in this world.

## Chapter Fourteen

_... the abomination of desolation,_

Matthew 24:15

Michael awoke into total darkness, his body sore and sensitive to the touch in some places, yet numb in others. He struggled to move, but the weight of his limbs held him firmly to the ground. A soft cry drifted down from above him sending shivers through his guts. He pulled against his unseen restraints, desperate to find what had made the cry before it found him, but his body would not allow it. His neck would not obey his will, his head would not turn, he was blind to what was with him in the abyss. Again the cry bellowed more agonizing and menacing than the last. Michael tried to scream, tried to move, tried anything, struggling against his invisible bonds, but the void held him in its grasp, crushing him to the black earth. It drew closer, crying, screaming, pleading with him. The pain; the pain; it was unbearable and the screeching wails only added to the throbbing. The howls from beyond threatened to tear his soul in two, but they only continued to grow in volume and in agony. What tortures were being inflicted on the thing beyond, and would he be next to suffer?

Terror flooded over Michael and panic wracked his entire being. The entity was drawing closer, screaming, wailing, and then... nothing. The cries died, leaving only the emptiness that had swallowed him. His eyes darted from side to side as far as they could, straining to see a hint of what was happening to him, his heart raced as it had the night before pounding ferociously in his ears. Yet nothing... nothing was there, he was finally alone.

Time slowed along with his pulsating heart and the pounding in his ears. His body was released from its mysterious restraints and was once again his own. Slowly and cautiously Michael sat up into the gulf, coming face to face with the pair of yellow eyes that burned with the fires of Hell. The black slits of its pupils were as empty and endless as the void he had awakened in. A deep, low growl formed in the furthest depths of the things bowels, then morphed into two words that rose like a stench from Michael's nose to his ears, "Next... you."

Michael struggled to scream, but it caught in his throat, squeezing it until all that was left was a pitiful whimper of fear. He was going to die!

## Chapter Fifteen

_He that speaketh of himself seeketh his own glory:_

John 7:18

The steel drawer slid open, emanating an arctic chill, and a horrific stench, even though the "cooler" nearly halted the decaying process nothing could be done for the rot that had already staked its claim. Gary instinctively turned his head from the source, squeezing his eyes shut, attempting to block out reality, but at the same time trying to come to grips with it. Even the coroner flinched at the sight of the mutilated remains of Mrs. Sheere. Harold Pintac, of course, was not affected; he only stared as if it was nothing. Robert had chosen to stay outside the morgue where it was safe not just from witnessing the source of nightmares, but where it was safe from the ego inside.

Gary introduced the arrogant Dr. Pintac to Dr. Calvin Brown, town coroner and pathologist. Calvin held out this hand to the man in the crisp new suit, but Harold only looked at. No way was he going to touch that thing, who knew what was on the hand of such a man, he probably didn't even use gloves. Calvin looked to Gary in confusion and saw his answer as Gary rolled his eyes and shook his head. Calvin removed the friendly gesture along with any greetings that went along with it.

"Dr. Pintac here has been sent to us in an effort to identify the animal responsible for the attacks. Since we hadn't received the autopsy report yet I brought Dr. Pintac here in person so he could get all the information he needed first hand and as quickly as possible so that he can make an identification as soon as possible, and get back to where he is needed elsewhere." There was no mistaking the innuendo in Officer Carpell's words, but instead of infuriating Harold a miracle happened, and for the first and only time they actually agreed.

"Alright, let's begin then." Dr. Brown began detailing his inspection of the woman's mangled corpse, listing what organs were actually found, and in what condition they were in, but Harold sharply cut him off with his usual bored and annoyed tone.

"I can read all of this trivial junk in the report, that is if you included it. What I'm interested in is what pertains to me, the specifics, such as the slash marks: what made them? How deep were they indicating the strength involved? Were there any non-human hairs found? Was there any fingernail residue found and what did it consist of? Saliva traces, DNA results, any of these things registering with you doctor?"

Calvin peered up from the body to see Gary shaking his head again and took his cue. Collecting himself, Calvin coolly replied to as many of the arrogant pig's questions as possible. "By the evidence of the slashes to the torso piece that was recovered still intact and having the least amount of water erosion the object responsible was no doubt razor sharp. As you can see the cuts are fairly clean with little to no jagged ripping of the flesh, no evidence of serrated edging, but the tears are not consistent with any metallic or plastic non-serrated weapon either. By the depth of the incisions it can be concluded that whatever was responsible for the wounds could not have been a sane human being. The continued thrust required to rip that deep through the flesh and bone simultaneously cannot be attributed to human hands. Unfortunately aquatic life had made many meals out of the remains so an accurate shape and sizing of the claw, or weapon, responsible has been impossible without more time to study the body.

It appears that the man was beheaded with one swift attack, killing him instantly so as expected, there were no traces of fingernail residue and the prolonged water exposure washed away many of the hair fibers that may have been attached to him. Although it seems the woman was alive through most of the assault on her. We were able to recover samples from both her left and right hand that survived the water submersion. I was preparing to send the samples to Charleston for DNA typing, unfortunately we don't have the equipment necessary to perform such testing and frankly we've never needed it; unlike the city." Dr. Brown could give as good as he got and he wasn't about to let this jerk have all the fun.

"Bruising was partially indeterminable due to the extreme trauma, immediate water submersion, massive blood loss, and bloating compounded by the water absorption, but there was significant bruising in what would be the lap area of the legs. It seems that whatever did this was not only powerfully strong, but quite large and heavy as well. The direction of the slash marks indicates that the assailant was perched in the woman's lap as it tore away at her. I don't think a wild dog could have done this amount of damage and as for a large cat, well we don't get many lions or tigers in this part of town not to mention that the thing would have to be mad to even think of attacking one person like this let alone two. As for how they ended up in the lake that's for the sheriff to figure out."

"I didn't ask for your ingenious insights into what animal, if it was an animal, was the culprit. I assume since you failed to mention such an important detail that there were no viable traces of hair or fur found not belonging to the victims?"

"You know what they say about assuming..."

"What was that?" Harold's eyes burned as he glared at the doctor.

"Actually there were a few hairs found not belonging to either of the couple. You are welcome to examine them if you'd like, I'm sure you're the most qualified person to make an identification." Calvin Brown's words calmed the fire rising in Harold, even if it was meant sarcastically, he was the most qualified.

Gary forced the smirk off his face before interjecting then looked at Calvin. Still wary of the remains laid out before him like an offering, he began questioning the good doctor about the cat. "Do you mean to tell me that a lion or cougar or something like that did this?" he said pointing to the pieces of rotting corpses splayed upon the table.

Harold grinned at the obvious idiotism that was about to spew forth from the overpaid under educated doctor. There was no doubt that he was going to say something completely stupid and altogether inaccurate, but he was disappointed.

"It's possible, but highly unlikely. The closest lions are at the Riverbank Zoo in Columbia or at the zoo in Greenville, but for an attack like we've got here the animal would definitely have to have been seriously mistreated and very vicious, not to mention starving and after the attack on Farley's place I'd have to say that there was definitely more than one. Besides after a meal like that, there would be no way the animals would be hungry enough to go after these two. Not to mention that the cats at the zoos are fed regularly to keep any incidents from happening."

"So even if one..."

"Or a dozen," interjected Dr. Brown.

"Right, or a dozen, escaped..."

"Which is about as likely as..." Calvin quickly glanced at Harold than thought better of continuing the remark floating around his brain, "well highly unlikely. Wouldn't you agree Dr. Pintac?"

It pained Harold to agree with anything the locals said, so in turn he said nothing.

"Okay, so as unlikely as it would be, even if a dozen or so large cats escaped they would be too well fed to go around tearing people and cattle to shreds."

"And I don't know about you, but I haven't heard word one on the news about a band of escaped wild cats on the news. Things like that tend to appear in the headlines."

"And nothing's come in to the station about it either and we'd be one of the first ones notified."

"Exactly."

"I don't mean to interrupt this stimulating banter of yours," Harold's voice was thick with his familiar air of arrogance, "but have either of you considered the possibility that some lunatic could be breeding and raising these beasts on one of these... farms. An abused lion can be as vicious as a madman, and a small group of them could do an extreme amount of damage. I cite the example of the two male African lions that devastated the natives of Africa in 1898 killing around one hundred and thirty people in only nine months. They eluded capture by some of the finest hunters available at that time before finally being brought down; to this day they are displayed in a museum in Chicago. So as you see gentlemen, it is possible." There was no emotion in his voice, no concern of people or life, only his own egotism and his need for superiority. 'If this is some lion that some dumb red-neck hick tried to keep as a pet I'm out of here by morning and back to civilization and real intelligence.' His thoughts betrayed him as his lips began to curl into a sly smile.

"That's all very interesting Mr., excuse me, Dr. Pintac, and you make a good point, but the fact is that even though I haven't seen any lions up-close the samples over there in that dish don't look like any lion fur I've ever seen, mountain or otherwise. Besides, lions just don't go busting through windows after people, insane or not."

"Who told you that it burst through the window? I swear officer Carpell is there no respect for procedure around here...!"

"No one told me Pintac. There was glass embedded in the bodies and if you haven't noticed, the types of glass differ between side, rear, and front windows. Besides, how else was the thing going to get into the car? Whu'd they do just stop, open the door, and invite the thing in?"

"Who knows what you people out here do or why you do it! Anyway how do you know that the glass wasn't a result of the victims thrashing? Some doctor, you say that the hair doesn't resemble lion hair, yet you admit to never seeing one up close. How did you come to that decision? Pin the tail on the jack-ass? If you hit the target it was a match if you didn't it wasn't? Oh, and the words are what did, not whu'd. What kind of moronic hick word is that any way? You'd know how to speak proper English if you had actually gotten past the fourth grade."

"You should know! Speaking of morons have you ever heard of a little thing called the Internet? Or is that stick so far up your..."

"Gentlemen! Can we please put our obvious dislike for each other aside and concentrate on the problem at hand?" A soft burst of laughter could be heard from outside the door where Robert had been listening intently rooting for Dr. Brown all the way, but the three men inside were too involved to notice it.

"Which is?" Harold snapped at Gary.

"Finding out what's out there killing before another mutilated body is wheeled in here!"

"As far as I'm concerned deputy, you can figure that out for yourself. I don't have to stay here and put up with this... this... insolence!" Tempers and tension ran high, but Gary knew the town need this jerk and he wasn't about to let him just saunter out of there no matter how much he wanted to see the door hit him in the rear.

"May I remind you Dr. Pintac that you were sent here to do a job by your superiors? Evidence has been found that requires your attention, evidence that you stated you needed to identify this thing whatever it is and mark my words if you walk through that door and out of this town I will be on the phone to those superiors of yours just as quick as you can pull that cell you undoubtedly have out of your pocket and inform them of your attitude and refusal to examine the evidence you yourself requested. Do you understand this hick's English Dr. Pintac!"

Fire blazed in Harold eyes, not so much by the way he was spoken to, but by the fact that this inbred excuse for authority was right, he was trapped in this town by his own words. Through gritted teeth he managed one last word, "Fine."

The three men took a deep breath and checked their emotions and attitudes. Gary then realized that he had received the answer to his question, the suit wasn't a cyborg he had shown emotion. Of course it was anger, mixed with arrogance, pride, and self-superiority, but still it was an emotion. All Calvin was thinking on the other hand was how much he'd like to see Harold Pintac laid out on one of those cold hard slabs one day and fact was that one of these days whether he was there to see it or not he would be. A comforting grin snuck onto his face, while Harold was still in his usual state of mind. What did he care if some mad lions or whatever goes around making mincemeat out of uncivilized hillbillies. Of course he did have a job to do no matter how ridiculous, he'd identify the thing a.s.a.p. so the proper authorities could capture it and keep it from entering the civilized world. A vision of Robert Pango attempting to corner a mad lion manifested in his mind and he hurriedly suppressed a smile of glee. Harold shocked himself over such a smile; he couldn't remember the last time he had done anything like it. Not for show anyways. Unknown to him Gary had seen the quick change in his facial expressions, but decided that he didn't want to know. The less he knew of the inner workings of Harold Pintac the better.

"Very well Dr. Pintac. If you would please continue Calvin, and let's keep the remarks to yourself please." Gary was in no way trying to demean him and Calvin knew it, but keeping a civil tongue with Pintac was a greater challenge than all his years in med school put together.

"Forgive me. Dr. Pintac you asked a question that I will happy to answer for you," and indeed he was happy setting him straight, "the glass shards were embedded deep into the neck of the first victim, the man who had his head ripped off."

"I know which one is which doctor."

"No offense, just refreshing our memories. Anyway, he was only stuck once when he was decapitated and with as deep as the shards were embedded they couldn't have just landed there in the fray. That, and the attack on the woman was a frontal attack, the evidence shows that whatever did this was on top of her through the entire assault holding her down until death. This would make it difficult to impossible for her to break the front windshield or the back for that matter and since the fragments retrieved had defrost wiring attached the shards had to have originated from the rear window the next logical step is to assu... believe that the thing that killed them was also responsible for the window as well. That and shards were also found deep inside of the woman's remains as well, too deep to be self-inflicted in fact."

"I see."

Robert could hear the voices of the men clearly from his chosen seat in the hall. He had no urge to see a dead body let alone two of them torn up like a jigsaw puzzle, and the fact that he wasn't allowed in the morgue anyway didn't hurt his feelings one bit. He had been following the conversation intently and when the voices quieted he moved closer to the door straining to hear, rooting for anyone but Harold.

"Excuse me, but is Deputy Sheriff Gary Carpell in there?"

Robert jumped and swung around to see another officer standing pale and solemn behind him. "Uh... yes... yes he is sir."

"Thank you." Deputy Kiax nodded to the startled and embarrassed man then took a deep breath, pushing his way through the morgue doors into the freezing room beyond and was met with the stares of three very tense men.

"Sir, can I see you for a moment?"

"Of course deputy. Gentlemen if you will please excuse me for a moment." Gary reluctantly left the two men to continue their work while he stepped towards the door where Deputy Kiax was waiting. "What is it Kevin I'm a little busy here? Have you found Frank?"

"Well sir, that's what I'm here about."

"Yes?"

"Well, Mrs. Andrews just brought her husband into the emergency room a little while ago. It seems Ed had a heart attack, he didn't make it."

"That's unfortunate, but what does that have to do with Frank."

"I was getting to that. She reported that his car was stranded off of Ashton."

"Send a car out there and see what's going on."

"I did sir, here." Kevin Kiax handed Gary a large green trash bag.

"What's this?"

"Sheriff Marshall... when we were informed that both you and Dr. Brown were not to be disturbed we went ahead with the evidence collection and bagging of the remains."

The world began spinning; everything was crashing down around them. Gary looked from Kevin to Calvin, then back to the trash bag that held the remains of one of his best friends. His whole hand shook and he had to struggle with himself not to let the bag drop to the floor. "Somebody needs to call Susie."

Kevin nodded and left as quickly as possible, ecstatic to be out of that place of death. Gary never looked from the bag in his hand, he couldn't. All he could do was walk to one of the metal tables across from Harold and Calvin and gently place it down. With his eyes still glued to the resting place of his boss he managed an introduction, "Dr. Pintac, meet Sheriff Frank Marshall, or what's left of him." Only then did he look directly into the eyes of Harold. Anger, hatred, desperation, despair, and sadness all flooded in Gary's eyes. It was then Harold knew without a doubt that he was stuck; the situation had just grown serious, even for him.

## Chapter Sixteen

_Wherefore God also gave them up to uncleanness through the lusts of their own hearts, to dishonor their own bodies between themselves: Who changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the creature more than the Creator,..._

Romans 1:24-25

"Aaron, you've got to hear this. This man was nuts."

"What man?"

"The man that wrote this book, Saul. This is his journal and for lack of a better word at the moment, spell book. It's actually very well written and thought out. On the left is a journal entry and on the right is either a ritual or spell. Most of the spells are more along the lines of 'potions' or what's nowadays called herbal medicine although I don't know how valid they are and for the sake of whoever he used them on I hope they weren't effective since most of them were meant to harm or even kill. Now his journal entries are a little more cryptic but boy was this guy into some strong stuff, Satanism, witchcraft, you name it, it looks like he was into it, and the entries were short, they had to be to fit on only one page at a time. You know if there ever was such a thing as an evil person he was it. Seems he was furious and vengeful at an entire town for; get this quote, 'driving him from his rightful place'. From what he was into though I wouldn't blame them; I wouldn't want this guy living next door to me. In fact, he claims to have cursed someone 'with the rage and fury of the wolves from the fires of Hell as punishment for theft of the heart. Soon he would be hunted down for his future and in turn would pay for the thievery of his beloved.' I'd hate to be on this guy's bad side."

Sitting Indian style on the couch like before with her glasses sliding slowly down her nose, Wendy prepared to read the curse aloud to her husband, "I haven't completely translated this yet but listen to the curse."

"Wendy I..."

Suddenly a piercing scream flooded through the Kinsington home. Aaron's words fell short and Wendy abandoned her research. The delicate book with all its wonders flung to floor forgotten as the couple raced to the stairs and up to the locked door between them and their shrieking son. The only intelligible words from the room beyond were, "It's coming! It's coming! It's coming!"

"Jeremy, open the door. Jeremy this is your father, unlock the door son. Jeremy what's going on? Jeremy!" but the only response was the cries of terror that were growing more urgent and horrifying with each howl. Wendy and Aaron pounded relentlessly on the door, but still the door remained locked. Frustrated and scared Wendy turned to her husband, "Break it down Aaron, break the door down!" Aaron put his shoulder to it and shoved. Again and again he threw himself at the obstacle until it finally gave way and flung itself against the dresser, ripping the hinges from their homes. Unconsciously Wendy shoved past him, eager to save her son, but was stopped dead in her tracks as she beheld her only child sitting on his bed, huddled against the wall, eyes wide with terror staring into space seeing something that no one else could. Jeremy's face was colorless and beads of sweat rolled from his brow onto the sheets that were already drenched and entangled around his limbs. Finally finding herself, Wendy closed the gap between her and her son in two gigantic steps.

"Jeremy, wake up. Come on, wake up son. There's nobody here. Jeremy? Jeremy, listen to me, there's nobody here, you're safe! Jeremy please you're scaring me!" His mother was growing frantic and began shaking him in a desperate attempt to free him from the terror that had seized her son. His own concern growing, Aaron, who had been quietly standing behind his wife praying, spoke up.

"Jeremy, son, snap out of it! Wake up, now!" Immediately, Jeremy jerked away from his mother flinging himself against the window behind him alert yet confused. His arms braced his body firmly against the glass, his eyes still wide as the realization of where he was finally submerged in his mind allowing him to relax.

"What's going on? Mom? Dad? Are you alright?"

"That's what I was about to ask you. You scared your mother and me to death with that nightmare of yours."

"Nightmare?"

"Yeah, and quite a doozy by the look of it. What was it about?"

"I... I don't know. I can't remember. I'm sorry I scared you guys, but I'm okay, really."

The three let out a sigh of relief almost in unison, but still concerned Wendy went into full mother mode, "Well you don't look alright. Let me feel your forehead." Jeremy thought of putting up a fight, but he was too tired to go head to head with a worried mother especially his.

"You do feel a little warm. I think you ought to take some medicine just in case you're coming down with something."

"Not the liquid, anything but the liquid. I can't stand that junk."

"What about the cherry flavor? That's not so bad now is it?" Wendy replied with a coy smile playing her lips.

"Not bad? Are you nuts? Have you ever tasted that junk? They should be sued for calling it cherry flavored. I know what a cherry tastes like and that's about as far from cherry as you can get. Don't make me gag. It's the caplet things or nothing I mean it."

Wendy couldn't help but laugh at her son, he was right of course, but it was still funny. "Alright, you win caplets it is. Aaron would you get them out of the medicine cabinet?"

"In our bathroom?"

"No, the upstairs spare. Thanks." The two watched as Aaron exited the room and Jeremy's eyes seemed to bulge when he caught sight of his door. "Don't worry; you'll get your door back. It's just the hinge screws that's all." With another crisis avoided Wendy turned back to her son. "So that was some dream you were having. You kept yelling 'It's coming' over and over. Care to talk about it? It helps, or so I've heard." She paused to feel the air before diving any deeper. "You don't have to worry, I won't laugh I promise, and I won't think you're weird or anything either. Dreams can seem extremely real; they scare even the toughest of people."

"It's not that mom," Jeremy struggled to recall what had brought such terror into his heart, but all he could see was darkness, "I just can't remember that's all. Really, cross my heart." An odd silence began to settle in the room. Each knew that their relationship had changed over the years, it was only natural but neither knew how to pick up again. Both wanted to say something to take that first step, Jeremy was still a little frightened though he didn't know why, and Wendy wanted so much to discover what had happened and prevent it from ever troubling her child again. Before either could speak a word Aaron appeared in the now very open doorway.

"I think we're out of pills, all I could find was the liquid. You'll just have to hold your nose and gulp." His face was straight and serious, but Jeremy wasn't falling for it and gave his dad the typical teenage 'yeah, right,' look. "Okay, okay, I give. Put that smirk back on the shelf son here are the caplets and some water."

He took the two green liquid-caps and popped them into his mouth, followed by three fourths of the water to drown any residual tastes. He placed the glass on his desk and suddenly realized what a mess it was in and flinched. He hoped his mother wouldn't notice. Which of course he knew was impossible, she was a mother after all and could spot a mess at sixty paces, or that at least she wouldn't make a big deal over it, not now anyway.

Sensing her son's unease she said nothing, but smiled at him conspiratorially. Greatly appreciated he smiled back almost sheepishly, "Thanks."

Naively Aaron piped in, "You're welcome. Now get some rest okay."

The two coconspirators held back their chuckles while Wendy winked her welcome not wishing to confuse her well-meaning hubby. Then she switched into fussy mommy mode and began straightening the covers while Jeremy began to settle in for what he hoped would be an uneventful evening. Although he felt fine, other than a little worn out from the night on the beach teamed with the restlessness of his nap, he relaxed and let his body team up with the medicine to annihilate any infection crawling inside.

"I'll meet you downstairs, Wendy. I'm going to the kitchen to raid the fridge. After all it's 7:39 and I crave sustenance."

Wendy hollered after him, "I'll feed my Neanderthal in a few minutes, don't go messin' up my kitchen." With the two of them alone the odd silence took reign, but only for a moment when a determined Wendy broke it with three simple, but full words. "I love you. You don't have to say it back, though when you do it means everything to me. I just want you to know that no matter how much things change between us, and I know they will, I will always love you and be here for you."

Jeremy glanced toward the open door, a part of him wished he could bolt right through it, getting away from this touchy feely moment, but still there was another urge deep down inside his heart that wanted, or needed to stay and connect with his mother and it was that will that won the battle.

"You're making your own choices now and I respect that and I trust you. You're a wonderful young man, and no one's perfect. I know you'll make mistakes, the Lord knows I've made plenty and I still make them, but I've learned from as many of them as possible as you will. I'll do my best to give you advice and to steer you in the right direction but in the end the ultimate decision is yours and yours alone. You know that there are consequences for your actions, that is something your father and I have tried to teach you from the beginning, and if you keep those possible consequences in mind you'll be fine." A pang of guilt over sneaking out began twisting his gut and he could no longer look her in the eyes. Wendy noticed his reaction, but she had started this and she was going to finish.

"Whether it's school, stress, fighting, drugs, sex, friends, drinking or any decision I'm here. Now I know there are some things that you'd rather talk to your dad about and I'm glad. He always feels important when you go to him with anything, big or small, but if you ever want or need a woman's point of view I'm here. Believe me when I say that no question is stupid when it comes to the opposite sex, your father's a wonderful husband, but let's face it everything that he knows about women would barely fit a thimble at times." That did it; a smile rose on Jeremy's uncomfortable lips and the gap had begun to close. He had sat there stone faced almost the entire time as his emotions pulsed. 'It was his life he didn't need her approval or permission. He was old enough to take care of himself. It was none of her business... but to hear her say that she was proud of him, and to know and feel that she really did love him sent a feeling of warmth through him that he never wanted to go away and he fought to suppress another smile. He didn't need her approval, but it felt good that he had it. His conscious was clear and he didn't have to fight with himself over whether or not he had done right, and last night he hadn't. He hadn't even asked. Of course they would have said no, but maybe they could have worked something out where he still could have seen Katherine. It wouldn't have been the perfect night that it was, but that could have happened another night, she would have understood. Maybe that's why they really had those nightmares, maybe it was guilt over sneaking out when for the first time it was more serious than just being a school night.' Jeremy fought with himself and the truth, should he tell, how much trouble would he be in, what if he just stayed in the next few times and forgot about the whole thing, what if they found out, back and forth he volleyed until reality won out. His mom would find out one way or another, if Katie hadn't been caught then Michael might blab, either way it would be much worse for him when the time came.

"Mom?"

"Yeah, sweetie?"

His courage failing he sped through his confession in an effort to get it all out before the doors shut on him, "I know you're gonna be mad at me and the only reason I'm telling you this is because I know you're gonna find out, you always do somehow it's like a curse not being able to get away with anything, anything big anyway, so here it is... I snuck out last night and went to the beach, but I fell asleep and didn't get back till morning, but if it's any consolation I had a really bad dream so it's kind of like I've already been punished... but you're not gonna go for that are ya?" Wendy slowly shook her head with a grin of 'no way on earth'.

"So that's where the dream came from... guilt."

"No... well yeah."

"You're right son. You are in trouble. I'm guessing by this admission you realized how dangerous it was sneaking out last night compared to all the other times," the astonished and fake innocent look on Jeremy's face was priceless and had Wendy not been so furious she probably would have burst with laugher, "and yes I know about the other times, we both do. Why do think that tree was taken down? Your father and I aren't complete morons."

"But how come?"

"We didn't punish you before?"

"Yeah."

"Your father and I snuck out when we were your age too. For most kids it's a part of growing up. We really didn't bother with it because around here there's not much for you to get into. You are after all a pretty good kid. The town's pretty safe and we know you can protect yourself."

"So that's why you let me sign up for self-defense!"

"Ah, you finally caught on to that huh? We didn't punish you for the same reason we stopped enforcing your bedtime. After you grew up we had to start giving you your space and as long as there was no danger to you, you weren't becoming public enemy number one, and as long as it didn't interfere with school we wanted you to make your own decisions."

"Then what about the tree?"

"I told you we're here to guide you. We knew that things were going to get tougher in school and so we took away some of the temptation to sneak out. The tree just made it too easy, that and it was starting to fall apart and..."

"I know, Dad didn't want it falling on the house."

"No smarty. We didn't want it giving away with you in it. We knew the stability of that tree was the last thing on your mind. Besides if you wanted to sneak out now it would be a lot more difficult and you'd have to think about it a little harder. Of course it seems like that theory worked like a charm."

Now it was Wendy's turn to be sarcastic.

"I know it was stupid, but it was special."

"Well I bet I can guess who you snuck out with." Jeremy realized his mistake and a whole new flood of concerns surfaced. Fortunately his mother had calmed down.

"I promised to try not to fly off the handle and I'm going to try to stick to that, so here's the deal.... Until further notice you are grounded, no phone, TV, games, computer, zip. It's solitary confinement, understand? You will be allowed one phone call to Katherine for two minutes informing her of your punishment and that she has one last chance to come clean before I call her parents if she hasn't already done so or been caught on her own. I am going to tell your father about this and we will discuss how long your punishment will last. Although we will allow you a little bit of the summer left before school we'll see how much." The medicine had begun to take effect and Jeremy's eyes began to take on a life of their own.

"Right now you need to sleep, so I'll go fix dinner. If you get hungry later come on down and we'll find you something." Wendy paused and switched gears not wanting to leave as the evil punishing tyrant. "I still love you, and even though I'm disappointed in your decision I'm proud of you for telling me the truth. Besides if you hadn't you're right, I would have found out somehow and you wouldn't be leaving this room until the first day of school, when you either walked there or took the bus because your bike had been impounded. Good night son, and don't worry I'll still make sure your father fixes the door." Wendy smiled as she turned off the light and tried to close the door as best she could behind her then she remembered one last thing. "Jeremy?"

"Yeah?"

"That old book that you had on your desk, the one we were talking about earlier, where'd it come from?"

"Oh that, I thought you'd like it. We found it when we were in the caves by the lake last Friday. I had it when the storm started so I just brought it home with me."

"Who's 'we'?"

"You know, the guys. I probably would have ended up with it anyway."

"Why's that?"

"They wanted to know how much it was worth and since they know you go in for that kind of stuff you might know something about it. So you like it huh?"

"...yeah, it's interesting." She smiled, but she knew for some reason she really didn't 'like it' at all.

"Jeremy did you read from it?"

"Some, but I couldn't understand a word of it. How about you?"

"Working on it. You get some sleep okay; I'll tell you about it later." With that she slid around the door to the steps and to the kitchen where her Neanderthal awaited.

Jeremy rolled over, but he fought the desire to doze. He didn't know why, but what he did know was that he didn't want... no, he couldn't fall asleep.

Wendy, her work and the book all but forgotten, entered the kitchen to find Aaron's head buried in the fridge. "Didn't I tell you not to stand there with the fridge open like that?" she said standing so close behind him that he could have knocked her over with a nudge. Fortunately for her he had heard her footfalls on the stairs and after her nagging him about the fridge for eighteen years he knew her actions as well as she did.

"Then how's a person supposed to find what they want to eat; telepathy?" He still held his hunched food hunting position in front of the icebox.

"How about I treat my man to Chinese tonight?"

Aaron swung around and rose to his full height, a full foot above Wendy and let the fridge door close shut. "Sounds great, but it's after eight."

"So, The Wok doesn't close until eleven."

"Yeah, but the curfew went into effect about twenty minutes ago."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"I forgot about that and after grounding Jeremy too. I'm getting old." Wendy scrunched up her face in a pout of disappointment and playful frustration.

"What's this about Jeremy?"

"I'll tell you after we eat. How about you make a fresh pot of coffee and I'll make three cheese chicken rotini? Is it a deal?" Aaron's face lit with famished excitement, but quickly changed to his usual puppy pout causing his wife to burst with laughter.

"But won't that take all night? I'm hungry now, and I can't wait. I crave sustenance!"

"Hey down boy, it won't take that long. I've got my ways. Remember, I'm just as starved as you are."

"Yeah, but I'm bigger than you are, I need more to keep this fine figure of a man going."

"Oh ho ho, 'fine figure of a man'? And you thought a quick dinner was a stretch?"

"Uhh." The playfully hurt look he gave was priceless and adorable and made her fall in love all over again.

"Now extremely fine form of a man, that's what you should have said. You sell yourself short." Aaron wrapped his arms around this feisty woman that he adored, temporarily forgetting the hunger for food and paying heed to the hunger for her, but only temporarily.

"If I weren't starving right now you'd be in trouble."

"Well how about getting on that coffee and letting me get to cooking so that we can continue this later." He kissed her then turned back to the coffeemaker performing his usual show of machismo when he switched from filling one cup from the fresh stream pouring forth from the coffeemaker to a second cup without spilling one drop. It had taken him many years and quite a few first degree burns to perfect his technique, but the bragging rights had been well worth it. His peacock was at full strut replacing the pot beneath the flow of hot liquid without a spill when Wendy ran him out of "her" kitchen back into the dining room to await his dinner. Yelling after him, "You know I think I'm going to replace that old thing with one of those that only fills a cup at time and doesn't have a burner that ends up scorching the coffee."

"Oh no you don't, I won't be able do my switch up with one of those. There's no challenge."

"I know; there's no mess to clean up after you've been fooling around either. Why do you think I want one?" She laughed and returned to the task at hand.

In all actuality he didn't bother her while she cooked, she liked having the company at times, but this time she just didn't want him to know how fast she really could cook when she had to. She had spent years convincing him that a good meal took a long time to prepare, while behind the closed kitchen door she would sit and read, listen to music, surf the net, watch a movie, or play a game while keeping a casual eye on the victuals. That and it allowed for many dinners out or delivery nights when he just couldn't wait. Wendy threw a few frozen chicken breasts into the lightly greased skillet with a few seasonings and covered it with her favorite glass lid, heated the pasta sauce, poured a small box of rotini into the newly boiling water, set the timer, grabbed her cup of coffee, then rejoined her husband in the dining room. She couldn't help but chuckle at the look of joyful excitement and the utter disappointment as she stepped into the room without a plate of chow.

"I'm fast, but not that fast."

"Well you can't blame a guy for hoping."

"You got me there." Wendy sat at the end of the four chair dining table with her back to the kitchen and Aaron to her right cradling the mug of hot java her hands. Even on this warm summer evening her hands were cold and she let the steam engulf her face as she inhaled deep the contents of the cup. Then deciding it was time to break the news of their son's late night escapades to her husband she took a sip and spilled the beans. "Your son's grounded for the rest of the summer or at least part of it."

"What do you mean he's grounded? What for? And how is it when he's done something wrong he's suddenly my son? If I remember correctly you were there for the delivery and the conception. At least I think it was you?"

"Ha ha, wise guy. You do the same thing."

"Guilty. So what's he done to merit losing his summer?"

"He snuck out last night, of course he really didn't have to do much sneaking, we were so caught up in that book we didn't even notice him walking right down the stairs and out the back door. I give you three guesses who he was out with until about six this morning, but you should only need one."

"Ah yes, the big date. So he didn't cancel that after all did he, the little weasel. They didn't do anything did they? I mean I don't think he'd tell us if they had, but..."

"He said they just fell asleep on the beach and that other than a couple of nightmares nothing happened. So far he's been pretty adamant about abstinence and as far as I can tell he's serious about waiting. There wasn't anything in his voice or his eyes that said otherwise so I guess we have to trust him. Of course every parent wants to believe the best and trust their kids when they say they're not having sex, or doing drugs, or any one of the other million things that they shouldn't be doing."

"So that's where the bad dream came from, guilt."

"I guess so; he said they were talking about the murders just before they fell asleep."

"How mad is he?"

"Not very. He felt so bad about it he confessed without any questioning. He was shocked to learn that we already knew about the other times, and about the tree, but he realized that last night was different than the other times. Or at least he said so, but I believe him. He's still a pretty good kid, his grades could be a little better and he could be a lot cleaner, but that's just part of him."

"What's the total punishment?"

"Room arrest, no entertainment other than books, one call to his co-conspirator to warn her before I call, and no bike."

"Ooh, that's rough. Tough Mama! How long?"

"I told him we'd have to talk about it first, but I told him he might have some of his summer left. He was about to fall asleep by then though so I don't think it all registered."

"That's okay; we'll let him sweat it out for a little while first. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. He seems really serious about this one."

"I know, I feel the same way. Scary isn't it. It seems only yesterday he was learning to ride a two-wheeler and now."

"Has he mentioned anything about how he feels?"

"Not really, but I noticed the picture of his favorite swimsuit model was in the trash along with a few others and they were replaced with pictures of Katherine. The one on his wall is still there but it's all but completely covered with other pictures now. I can't say I'm disappointed about that though. Of course I think the only reason that most of those posters are still up is to keep me out of his room as much as possible. Has he mentioned anything to you?"

"Ah, grasshopper is learning. He's said a few things, and asked a few questions. I get the feeling he wants to open up more but he's holding back. I guess I need to have a talk with him."

"I thought you did that years ago?"

"I did. This is the 'What are your plans for the future?' talk."

"Ah. That one. Good luck."

"Thanks, I have a feeling I'll need it. Something tells me that explaining the birds and the bees and convincing him to wait was easier. Now to change the subject to something just as important," Wendy looked at him confused as to what was on her beloved's mind now. "You may think I'm being silly or stupid but this feeling has been growing more and more and I can't ignore it any longer. It's about that book. There's something that just doesn't seem right about it. In fact just having it in the house gives me the willies."

"You're right. I do think it's silly."

"Just do me a favor and don't repeat any of those incantations or whatever they are. Especially out loud, for me, believe me I know how ridiculous I sound and I'd be thinking the exactly the same thing you are right now if the tables were turned but I just can't shake this feeling that we're dealing with something... well... I'll just say it... with something evil.... So please do this for me as a favor for your favorite husband?"

"You're in luck that you just happen to be my favorite husband. Of course that might have something to do with the fact that you're my only husband, but since you feel so strongly about it I promise not to read any of the incantations out loud or even under my breath." No sooner had Wendy finished her vow and sat down her mug than the buzzer sounded causing both of them to jump. Embarrassingly they smiled at each other, "I guess that's my cue." As she reached the kitchen door, she turned to glance back at Aaron deep in thought. Should she tell him of the feelings that she'd had been having as well? Could there really be something to that mad man's diary? Or could it all be a coincidence because of the tragedy that had befallen their quiet town the past few days? She had no idea, but somehow she knew that it wasn't over yet. The phone rang, pulling her from her own mind with a start.

"I'll get it; you just get the food on the table." Aaron hopped from his seat in a search for the cordless as Wendy followed orders, but when he returned to the dining room, his face was ashen. Wendy hadn't even the chance to ask what was wrong before half in a trance Aaron said what she already knew in the back of her mind; they'd found another victim. "They found Sheriff Marshall's body earlier today on his family's road. He was... mutilated."

## Chapter Seventeen

_Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted._

Matthew 5:4

"Would you like another cup of coffee Mr. Kiax... Kevin?"

"Please."

It had only been four and a half hours since Susie's life had changed forever, sitting on her ex-husbands back porch watching her two children play catch with their father. She and Jonathan had put their differences aside a year ago and decided that once every six months the whole family would spend the week together, for the boys' sake, but they both knew that a reconciliation was eminent. Ever since Jonathan had begun going to church both knew the day would come when they took their vows for the second and final time. She could barely pinpoint why their marriage had failed in the first place, no not failed; ended. A marriage only fails when both give up completely erasing the other from their life, mind, and heart. To her it seemed as if their lives had just gone in two different directions and their feelings sort of went cold. The fire and the passion was gone, they had grown apart as they grew older neither one resembling the person the other had first fallen in love with. Now that Susanne looked back though the fire, the love, the passion wasn't gone at all. It was just hidden in the deepest chasm of their hearts that were so stuck on the past that they refused to even see the person in front of them, let alone get to know them and fall in love all over again. Of course, if she was to be totally honest she loved him more now than ever, and she loved the man he had become, regretting not taking the time while she had the chance to see him.

Once she had told him that she still loved him and that he would always be in her heart, but that she was no longer "in love" with him anymore, but that too was not true. They were both still in love they had just stopped telling each other, their hugs were no longer embraces, but pats on the back, and their kisses had shrunk to pecks here and there. They both got so wrapped up in themselves they shut the other person out of their life and their heart. It was always "their" work, "their" kids, "their" parents and other family, and "their" personal time. They had made their marriage the last priority when it should have been first, and so it received the least attention, then withered away into a divorce, their story was over.

Yet her heart still pounded a little faster when she heard his voice, when she saw his car pull into the drive to pick up the kids, and when he smiled. She still thought about him often, and certain songs, movies, smells, and days brought back tender memories. Susanne realized the day she signed the divorce papers that they had become shy of each other; she stopped telling him of her dreams, fantasies, hopes, fears, desires, and most of all her love. They both had, if even one of them had mustered the courage and opened up revealing the depths of their heart, the other would have eventually as well and then their marriage would have succeeded even her expectations.

What she didn't know was that her not so estranged Jonathan felt the same as she did, and nestled in his top dresser drawer, between his socks and his boxers, was a small black velvet box with a modest diamond ring engraved with the words, "I'll never stop loving you."

Then it happened, she had gone into the house to refill her lemonade when the phone began to chirp. She reached for the cordless on the kitchen table, but hesitated, fearing that the voice on the other end would be another woman that would smash her heart to pieces. Susie peered out the window at her ex rolling around on the ground while their two boys tackled him... ring two. She couldn't pull him away... ring three. Her heart pounded as she reached out, picking up the phone, the next ring the voice mail would pick up and she would never know, but she had to. She had to know now before she made a fool of herself with him, so she pressed the talk button and said hello. It was indeed another woman with a soft voice, but this woman was asking for her instead of Jonathan.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for Susanne Marshall. Is she there?"

Susie's sigh of relief was cut off, realizing that no one but her brother had this number and he never used it. "This is she."

"Susanne, this is Grace Workman from the Epson Police Department, I'm sorry to have to call you at... there, but there's been an incident."

"What kind of incident is everything okay? Where's Frank? Why didn't he call?"

"That's what I'm calling about. I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but your brother's dead."

"Dead... how?"

"I can't say Ms. Marshall. Perhaps..."

"What do you mean you can't say? Don't you know? When did this happen? Was it an accident? What? Tell me!"

"Ms. Marshall... I don't know what to say. I only know what they told me to tell you... I can't.... I could have one of the other officers call you..."

"Don't bother. I'm coming back, just have someone there to give me some answers when I get there!" She hung up without saying goodbye then ran to pack. That's where Jonathan found her, throwing things haphazardly into her bag. She hadn't thought much about it then, she hadn't thought much about anything but Frank since the call, but Jonathan, dumping everything in Georgia just to drive her back was more than she could have asked. He was being so supportive, taking care of the kids, and helping her to stay calm... she had almost forgotten how wonderful he could be. If she ever got the chance, after all this mess was over with, she'd tell him how she really felt, and if they ever walked down the aisle again this time she would take his name as her own and use it with pride.

The thought of a reconciliation with her ex brought a soothing smile to her face in a time of great sorrow.

"Susanne... are you alright? I can call someone if you like? Gary really wanted to be here, but he's real busy trying to find out what mu... what's happened." Kevin Kiax blushed, knowing that he should in no way have mentioned even partially the mutilation of his boss and her brother. The situation scared him enough and Frank was only a friend and mentor to him, he couldn't imagine what Susie must be going through. Though he had to hand it to her, she wasn't the basket case he was expecting, and other than a few tears that managed to slither down her cheeks now and then, she held herself together quite well. For that he was relieved, he just couldn't stand to see a woman cry, he always felt so helpless and confused. Quickly he tried to change the subject, hoping to avoid any outpour of tears. "Where's your husband... Jonathan?"

Sensing Kevin's embarrassment and unease she pretended not to hear his little faux-pah as she was pulled from her reverie. "He's with the boys playing video games, or should I say being beat by them. They don't know what's happened yet and he's trying to keep them from knowing until I feel it's the right time to tell them. I don't want to scare them; they've been through enough over the past few years with the divorce. I know they'd feel safer with their father here, but until this thing is caught..." her words died off as quickly as her brother had, before redirecting the conversation, "Calling anyone won't be necessary, I can't deal with a whole lot of people right now. Actually I'm grateful for this curfew, it gives me time to think about things before everyone shows up telling me how sorry they are for my loss and asking me if there is anything they can do. I know they mean well, but it all seems... I don't know... empty somehow."

"The curfew should keep people from knocking on your door, and very few know you're back, but we both know it won't take long here for it to get around that you're home. After a couple of hours your phone will most likely be ringing off the hook."

"It probably already is. I turned the ringer off on both of the phones before I left and have just been letting the voice mail get everything. I'll probably leave it like that until tomorrow, no sense ruing what's left of a night's sleep.

"Have you thought about going back to Georgia for now? Until things get... settled down?"

She knew what he was trying to say and the thought had crossed her mind more than once. Come the morning she may very well pack her boys up and send them right back to the safety of their father's, but for tonight they were stuck.

## Chapter Eighteen

_Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you:_

Matthew 7:7

Gary left the arrogant Dr. Pintac at the hospital to continue his research and told Robert to go on home. Whatever they were dealing with wouldn't be caught tonight and was most likely too large for him to handle by himself anyway. The department would be in touch when they knew for certain what they were dealing with, that is if animal control would be able to handle it.

Robert didn't hesitate; it was quitting time for him anyway. All in all this was one of his better days at work, no dank basements, no muddy crawl spaces, no threat of rabies, and the only snake he ran across wasn't his problem. He sure did feel sorry for that poor officer though.

His patience stretched, his nerves raw, and his mind and body exhausted, more from a day of ensuring civility than any encounter with a perp, Gary returned to the station to file a report on the... condition and initial findings of his boss's autopsy. The thought of which sickened and infuriated him even more than Harold had. As he stepped onto the curb and pushed through the glass door to the station all hint of conversation dropped to barely a whisper here and there, he could feel dozens of eyes tracking his every move through the small town agency on the way to Frank's office. Each stare burning into his head, even behind the closed doors of the former Sheriff's modest work space, and he released the blinds cutting off the world outside. There he sat, amongst the relics of his best friend now resting it a garbage bag, on a cold slab, in the town morgue. Tears began to build, blurring his vision as soft sobs rose in his throat. Unable to hold back the frustration and sorrow of a day he wished he could blot from his life forever; he closed his eyes and succumbed to his grief, if only for a moment. That moment was all he allowed himself, for there was work to be done, and he owed it to Frank to bring this thing, whoever or whatever it was, down. Wiping his eyes and his mind clear of the tears he picked up the file that Frank had been looking at the night he was murdered. Nothing. No clues, no note other than the ones he had already seen. Nothing. The lights on the keyboard glowed hypnotically, drawing Gary's attention from the papers in front of him and the light-bulb in his brain went off. He hadn't noticed anything earlier, with Harold Pintac in the room who could, but now he resolved himself that the answers were somehow on the screen beside him. He pressed the button and lit the office with the black and yellow image of the department's logo. A wave of excitement pulsed through Gary as he moved the mouse bringing the screen to life and unlocking the secrets it held.

Newspaper articles, old archives that had recently been added to the town's history website, but what did they have to do with anything. He scrolled to the top of the editorial when the title struck him and struck him hard, Only Survivor in Mutilation Deaths Refuses to Talk. His heart quickened as he read through the exact same story that not 24 hours earlier had led Frank Marshall to his death, his eyes resting on the same name that had sent the Sheriff out into the raging storm the night before, the name of Frank's grandmother. That's why he had been out on that road, he'd found a connection in some way, Frank had come too close to something and was murdered for it. He had known his sister was out of town so he couldn't have been going to the homestead to see her, it had to have been something at the house, something of his family's that he had thought important and went to check out. The killer had to have followed him out there, or was he already there looking for the same thing. Was Frank too close to the truth, or had he just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Was it something about the Marshall family, but no that couldn't be it, the couple slain only days before had nothing to do with Frank or his family? Questions, scenarios, motives, and more questions marched through his mind until he picked up the phone, and took the next step in putting the pieces of the deadly puzzle together. Susie had to have been home by now, and if there was someone out to get the Marshall family she needed protection. Gary was still selecting the words that he would use when the voice mail picked up, not waiting to leave a message or even knowing what to leave he hung up and pressed the button to reach Grace at the front desk.

"Grace, Gary, have you been able to reach Susanne Marshall yet?"

"She called in when she got home, Kevin's over there now... breaking the news."

"Are you sure he's still there?"

"I think so. Do you want me to call?"

"Yeah, tell him to stay there until I get there and tell him to keep an eye out."

"For what?"

"I wish I knew." Gary returned to the computer scanning more of the clippings stored in cyberspace. Again and again he dialed Susanne's number, both times receiving her short but polite message. Anxious and frustrated, he printed what he thought was relevant, grabbed his hat and retraced the steps of his dearly departed boss, leaving behind a room full of questioning eyes.

His knock was firm and full of urgency, divulging the situation. The second knock, he decided, if needed, would be more relaxed, he didn't want to scare Susanne any more than she undoubtedly was. Of course depending on what he unearthed in the dusty depths of the family history, fear might be inevitable. As he reached to tap a second time the door cracked open enough for Susanne Marshall to peer out. Her look changed from concern to relief as she saw Gary standing on her door step and not one of the dozen people that she feared would break the curfew to extend their deepest condolences.

"Gary, I'm so glad it's you!"

"Is everything alright? I mean... considering the situation... no one's been bothering you have they."

Thinking he referred to well-wishers she wasn't alarmed, "No, no, I was just afraid that you might've been someone wanting to tell me how sorry they were for my loss and so on. I'm glad you could come, has there been any news?" She tried to put up a brave front, but Gary could see the pain behind her eyes and the tone of sorrow in her voice. "Oh, stupid me, would you like to come in?" She led him into the den where Kevin was sitting nursing his iced tea. He nearly dropped it as he stood to greet the man who just witnessed the sheriff's autopsy.

"Officer Carpell, I was just..."

"It's okay Kevin, I'm glad to see you're still here. I take it that things have been quiet here?"

Slightly confused, but sensing secrecy was needed; he kept his reply short, "Yes sir. It seems that no one has broken curfew and Susie, I mean Ms. Marshall, has taken steps to avoid the myriad of phone calls."

"So I noticed," Gary said under his breath.

"What was that sir?"

"Nothing. It's been a long day; you'd better call in to Grace, then head on home."

Kevin thanked Susanne for her hospitality, "I know this must sound hollow, but I am very sorry, and if there's anything that I can do just give me a call anytime. I mean that, anytime. We take care of our own." Susie nodded the first of many 'thank you's as he turned to leave. Gary too turned to watch him leave, but called back to him, "Oh and Kevin, turn your radio back up."

A nod was given. Whatever it was that Gary was concealing he wouldn't question it. He slipped out the door of the Marshall family home and pulled his radio from his hip, turning the volume back up. He hadn't wanted to be interrupted while informing Susie of her brother's death, nor wanting her to hear anything unpleasant accidentally either. Yet he realized now that this was a mistake, a stupid mistake. What if Frank's killer had been found and they couldn't get a hold of him, what if that murderer had been on his way to the house he was just sitting in and had taken them by surprise? Kevin turned to reenter the house, to acknowledge his failure, but remembered that wasn't his orders, he'd have to repent later. Instead he walked the perimeter listening to every sound that the oncoming night uttered. Determined to be an officer.

Inside the house Gary Carpell turned to Susanne and the business he came for. "I know you have a lot to think about right now, and on such short notice, but I want to reassure you that the station's taking care of the funeral arrangements and whatever you want done for him you just give Grace a call and she'll take care of it. We'll do whatever we can to help in any way possible. We've also contacted Frank's lawyer and he's taking care of all the legal matters, he's expecting your call anytime. Your brother was a good man and a great friend and boss to us all," Gary sighed, "Right now though we have more important things to discuss." Gary fell silent and his eyes shifted to Jonathan coming down the stairs. How much could he trust this man? The two began to size each other up.

Despite the horrid situation, Jonathan couldn't help wondering what this man standing in his ex-wife's sitting room meant to her, and ultimately to himself as well, as he studied them both all he saw between the two was Gary's genuine concern and sorrow. No man had come between him and Susie, at least not yet; that he was pretty sure of anyway. His manner changed, he relaxed, and graciously offered his hand. Gary too relaxed, it had been years since he had seen Jonathan, and he knew very little about the man really, but since Frank had always liked him he had to be somewhat okay, "Jonathan, it's been a while. I'm Gary Carpell, I work... worked with Frank." Now it was his turn to be embarrassed, but Susie jumped in before apologies could flow again.

"It's alright Gary, I understand. Now what was it that you wanted to talk about? It sounded important."

Gary's gaze flickered towards Jonathan, still unsure as to what he should reveal, but Susie settled the matter.

"It's fine. Anything that you need to know or say you can say in front of Jonathan. I've had enough of secrets in my life and I no longer want to keep any if possible; especially from Jonathan." She turned to see his face light up and her trepidations eased, leaving Gary feeling like the proverbial third wheel. If only Frank had been here to see his sister finally reunited with her husband, unfortunately, now, he would never know.

Suddenly feeling the urgency of his visit he cleared his throat, regretting the fracture of such a moment. "This may take a while and it's probably going to sound a little strange. I'm not sure what to make of it myself."

"Oh, of course, please have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"

"Thank you, but no. This might be difficult for you to hear right now and believe me I wouldn't be bringing this up if it wasn't important. At least it might be important, I'm not exactly sure." He could see he was confusing them, he was confused himself. "I'd better just come out with it before none of us understands what's going on."

Gary pulled the printout from his pocket. "I was checking into what Frank had been researching before he left the station last night. It seemed strange that he was driving out here that late when he knew you were gone. I pulled up the history on the hard drive and found this." He reluctantly handed over the papers to Susie. It felt stupid for him to be so cautious. After all it was public record and part of her family history. Besides, it probably wasn't anything she hadn't heard before from her Granny's stories, but somehow he felt that if this was what Frank had been murdered for he was now putting this couples' lives at stake as well just by handing them the papers.

"It seems that there were... similar killings back in your Grandmother's time. A man was eventually blamed and the town seemed to be right because right after the man disappeared, the murders ceased. Unfortunately there were quite a few deaths. In fact, an entire caravan of gypsies was slaughtered, all but one that is, ...your grandmother was the only survivor. She was soon after adopted, according to the reports she never spoke of what happened. I hate to ask this, but does any of this sound familiar?"

Susanne was shocked and could only shake her head for a moment, "No, I've never heard of it."

"Do you think Frank may have known anything about it?"

"I don't see how, he'd have told me if he had."

"Did Frank leave any messages for you at your, at Jonathan's or on your voice mail?"

"No, I haven't heard from him. Of course I haven't checked my voice mail since I got home; I just left the ringer off." Jonathan immediately got up in search of the phone, but as Susie listened to recording after recording of well-wishers she reached the end with no word from her dearly departed brother.

"Nothing, no message." She began to put the phone away, but thought better of it and turned the ringer back on just in case.

"Susie, do you think there could be anything here that Frank was coming after? Old family records, books, journals, scrapbooks, anything that might explain why he was on his way here?"

Susanne, deep in thought, searched her mind for why he had been driving to her empty home in the middle of the night? What could he have possibly been after?

"Susie, have you received any prank or threatening phone calls within the past few weeks or months?"

"No, nothing like that. Why?"

"I'm just running a few theories over in my head."

"You think this somehow ties into what's been going on around here the past few days?"

"I know it seems farfetched, I mean I know a guy from almost a hundred or more years can't be running around picking up where he left off..."

"But someone else might be." Jonathan interjected.

"That or a descendant of the man they ran out of town doesn't care for the way his family was treated. Then again it could be completely unrelated and Frank could have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm just checking out all the possible options to protect your family if you were a possible target." He hated putting it that way, but there was no easy way to say it and they deserved to know.

"Mommy?" The call of the youngest boy brought Susanne to life and she excused herself to put the kids to bed leaving the men in an awkward silence. It was Gary who broke the hush.

"I'm glad to see that you came back with Susie, she's going to need someone to turn to and now with it possibly being a personal issue it's a relief to know that someone will be here if any trouble arises. You will be staying won't you?"

"Definitely, I wouldn't leave her, not now. Actually I was planning on coming back with her anyway, that is if she was alright with it."

"Frank would have been glad to hear that. He always thought that you two splitting up was a mistake, especially with the boys. To be perfectly honest the two of us even had a side bet when the two of you would get back together." Gary was glad to have this chance to talk about something other than death and bodies, particularly a topic as good as a possible reconciliation. Jonathan too felt a surge of relief at the change of subject. He had begun to feel a kinship in Gary Carpell, and now he felt like sharing his own secret with someone else who was rooting for him.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Thrown for a moment, Gary stumbled with a, "sure."

"It's nothing bad, it's actually pretty great, if it works out that is. Now I'm confusing you." Jonathan leaned forward in his seat and Gary mimicked him, "I had actually planned to propose to Susie if this weekend worked out. Of course after what's happened I think I might ought to wait a little while, at least until things settle down that is. It's kind of bad timing right now. You think?"

It took Gary a moment to realize Jonathan was seeking his advice, but then he felt flushed and honored, "I don't know, maybe something good like that might help her get through the rough spots. You know if she knew she had something to look forward to after things 'settle down' as you said. That and knowing that you're here to stay might help as well. Although, I couldn't begin to tell you how to go about it. I'd get it all twisted up and end up saying something idiotic like 'You wanna?'."

When Susanne appeared at the top of the staircase the two conspirators dropped the conversation and stood, as gentlemen should, when she entered the room and sat down.

"Well aren't you old fashioned. It's hard to find a gentleman these days, I kind of like it. I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

"Just catching up." Jonathan winked at Gary.

"Sorry to interrupt then, but I think I might have an idea of what my brother may have been after."

The atmosphere changed back to one of dread and sorrow as she had both of the men's full attention. "As far as I know, after Grandma passed away all of her belongings that were left after the will had been executed were eventually boxed up and stored in the attic for the kids after they grew up. They should still be there; no one's touched them since as far as I know. If there were any family records they might be up there amongst her things. You're welcome to have a look if you think it might help."

Officer Carpell leaned forward, hat in hand. He had no idea what he'd be looking for. The whole thing seemed quite silly actually, but something in his gut told him that he was on the right track and he had learned to follow his gut. "I'd appreciate it greatly." The three slid from their seats and solemnly made their way up the two flights of stairs to the dark dusty attic. None speaking of their doubts, reprehensions, or the foreboding feeling that had fallen over them the past few minutes. Each wary of what they might uncover in the shadowy realm of the Marshall family history.

## Chapter Nineteen

_I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent._

I Corinthians 1:19

Dr. Harold Pintac hovered in the same position he had taken over three hours ago, staring determinedly into the microscope at the strange hairs recovered from both the remains of the Sheeres and the recently discovered remnants of the town sheriff. It had been more than three and a half hours since the call had come in from Charleston, a call that he refused to accept. The lab reported that a match could not be found, since then Harold had been striving to prove them wrong and ensue his superiority.

"New species indeed! There's a match and I'll prove it. What do they know anyway?" was his response to the technician's news, but as the minutes ticked by turning into hours he was still no further in his identification than when he began, and that infuriated him even more. Not just in his lack of progress, but the nagging truth that a new species meant he was trapped in this one brain town even longer. Harold leaned back from the scope's eye piece and rubbed his eyes, maybe it was a crossbreed between wild animals or a mix between a wild and a domestic, making the sample slightly irregular and throwing off his and the lab's results.

"That must be it," he whispered thoughtfully. "Maybe in this backwards town instead of chasing cats the dogs are mating with them, that or Bigfoot found the people here too stupid to notice him and took up residence." Wait a minute! Bigfoot? What was he saying?

"Ahh, I can't think. I don't know what I'm saying... or doing. I wish I had never started this whole thing, then everything would be alright and normal, but now I'm teetering between my hope of what it really is and my fear of what it could be. Here I am, all alone, going out of my mind and for what... this thing... this stupid thing in front of me, but if I don't find the truth of what it is the consequences of failure could haunt me for the rest of my career. Wait what if I just go ahead and classify it as... whatever? I could go back to civilization and no one would ever know. Yeah, that might... no, no if they were to find out I would be ruined. I won't be ruined by this hick town, no they won't get me that way. Oh dear Lord in Heaven what do I do? These late nights are beginning to take a toll on everything I've worked so hard for." Harold looked around, convinced that his soliloquy had come from somewhere or someone else. He couldn't believe what he had been thinking or saying or that it was he that had been rambling on at all.

He didn't believe in God and he sure doesn't think like... that either. There had to be some other explanation, some other reason for his little "episode". Improper storage of hospital and embalming chemicals that were affecting his thought process or something like that, yes that must be it, it had to be. Then in his moment of denial an idea of pure genius inspired and excited him.

Why was he punishing himself with this third rate equipment in this armpit of a town. All he had to do was pack up the samples and other evidence and be back in his office and civilization in no time. His demeanor changed as a tiny smile played his lips as he hurriedly, but carefully packed the slides into his briefcase, grabbed his suit coat, and headed for the door... out into the oncoming storm. The clock above the exit read 11:10. With a little luck he'd be back in Charleston by midnight and all of this would be nothing but a bad memory; or a fading nightmare which he was soon to awaken from.

## Chapter Twenty

_he knoweth what is in the darkness._

Daniel 2:22

All Wendy could think about was Frank Marshall's dead body lying in the middle of the street, torn to pieces and twitching in the pouring rain. Flashes of blood and flesh penetrated her mind. Nothing seemed to ease her mental anguish, so she immersed herself into her work, desperate to drown the nightmarish images that haunted her mind.

Their dinner, once coveted, sat uneaten; Wendy and Aaron Kinsington now sat quietly in their living room, unable speak about it, unable to forget. It was nearly midnight, but sleep was impossible, work was inevitable. "It's impossible," Wendy had mumbled the words to herself, but the uneasy quiet that had settled in the Kinsington home since the news of Frank Marshall's demise left the tiniest sounds plainly audible and understandable.

"What's impossible Hun?"

"Huh?"

"What's impossible?"

"Oh, was that out loud?"

"Unless I've suddenly been given the ability to read minds... yes."

"I see you still haven't lost your so called sense of humor."

"So sue me, it's my defense mechanism. Now what's impossible?"

"This is."

"Oh I see, and what exactly is 'this'? I seemed to have lost my mind reading ability?" His playfulness masked his true feelings of unease and sorrow for the man he had gone through school with. He was aware he was suppressing his emotions, but something inside told him that the worst was yet to come and now was not the time to reflect on his friend's horrible end. The killer was still at large lingering in the shadows.

"The book, remember when I told you that this thing is part journal and part... well, spell book, for lack of a better term?"

"Rings an eerie bell."

"All right smarty; anyway as I was saying, you know how this guy Saul, thought he could curse people?"

"How could I forget the humanitarian of yesteryear? The man must have been certifiable. I sure wouldn't want him as my neighbor."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"What do you mean 'maybe not'? I know you're interested in people, but a... what's a nice word, person... like that next door would make me pack up and move out of the state."

"I didn't mean that, I agree with you there. I meant about his sanity, thinking he had the power to curse people."

"Oh that, what about it?"

"Well according to this; he did it."

## Chapter Twenty One

_A talebearer revealeth secrets:_

Proverbs 11:13

The lone bulb, naked and neglected, gave the attic a living shadowed feel as it gently swayed to and fro, casting its unearthly yellow glow upon Susanne and the others in their search for the unknown. The three opened box after box, digging through decades of a life now mysterious to each of them. Susie perched on a trunk of clothing, her elbows resting on her knees as she too burrowed through another trunk of her grandmother's in front of her. The smell of dust irritated the nostrils of the three amateur archaeologists as years and layers of the tiny particles were disturbed and sent drifting through the air.

Susanne could not help but reminisce as she searched through the things of her cherished grandmother. Each dress that she came upon brought with it another memory, another story, another feeling to mind and this particular trunk held her grandmother's most delicate and cherished pieces, including her yellowed, but still radiant wedding gown. It wasn't fancy and it hadn't a large skirt or long flowing train, but that only added to its charm. It wasn't ladened with sequins or bead work, only a small amount of delicately hand worked lace and a few pearl buttons down its soft back, but to her its beauty was undeniable and she allowed herself to dream of donning it for Jonathan in a modest ceremony, then proudly displaying it in one of the rooms of their home. She pulled the gown further from the trunk it had been sleeping in for most of its life and heard a thud as the last of the dress lifted free. There, in the bottom of the chest, was a cedar case of considerable size that had been long ago hidden in the folds of her grandmother's gown.

Susie carefully placed her treasure aside then bent into the luggage to retrieve what her granny had obviously felt important. Taped to the bottom, was a small key and had it not been carefully stored untouched for so long the tape would have long since lost its grip, losing it forever. The key easily pulled free almost falling into her hand like an offering, as the tape gave up the ghost. It fit perfectly, requiring only a slight jiggle to finally turn full circle and releasing the lock with a soft click.

She slowly lifted the lid to reveal the objects hidden inside. One by one Susanne cautiously examined the contents of the box. She found a beautifully preserved rose stored in a smaller handmade wooden box that appeared to have been carved especially for her grandmother. Next she noticed a gold compact engraved with the same initials as the rose box, as well as a monogrammed handkerchief made of silk and lace, yellowed and tattered at the edges. Along with these riches rested a small, hand crafted, wooden toy, a well-worn doll, an old bonnet that looked to be for a young lady, a leather bound, well-read Bible with her grandmother's name imprinted in the bottom corner of the cover, a hunk of fool's gold, some old faded photos, a few crumbling letters wrapped in a fading pink ribbon, and an old scarf that drew her attention from all else.

When she drew it from the case she noticed it had been used as a wrap for something far larger and far heavier. The scarf itself was plain, unmarked, and simple, but it was tattered and torn worse than any of the other items it laid with and was covered in spots that had the appearance of blood, dark and foreboding, and eating away at the cloth itself. Carefully Susanne untied the knot in the center of the bundle, peeling back the edges, exposing the secrets it held hidden for a century. Her skin crawled as she gazed at the contents inside: newspaper clippings, a diary, and a strange necklace that made her stomach churn when she touched it.

The browning newspaper all but crumbled when she handled it even with her gentlest touch. Yet through the fading, broken, and missing edges she recognized each article as the ones that Gary had handed her only moments ago in her living room, plus a few he hadn't. They were the originals, the first printings of a strange tale that unfolded with each new piece. A story of death, mutilations, missing and partially missing victims, slaughtered cattle and family pets all blamed on bears, wild dogs, even the devil was said to have set foot in the town of Epson. This was it, no matter how bizarre it seemed; these were the answers they had been searching for, "I think I found something."

Two heads sprung up from the boxes they had been buried in like bunnies out of a rabbit hole. Their attention aroused; both grateful that it had in fact been Susie that had uncovered the secret that somehow appeared to revolve around the Ashton family line. It had been awkward rifling through her family's things, almost like grave robbers in the night, it felt as if they were snooping through not only hers, but Frank's life as well.

"What is it?"

"The murders, they're the same."

Confused yet cautious, Gary tread carefully, "What murders Susanne?"

"The clippings, you know, the ones that you showed me downstairs, they're here, the originals I mean, here look, and here's some sort of diary too. I think it might be my grandmother's." Susanne offered up her newly found treasures to the men. This was it, here could lay the answers to the deadly riddle plaguing their town. Susanne cautiously opened the leather bound journal as if it was a snake that could strike at any moment. She was unaware of how scared of the antique tome she really was as she read aloud from its thick, crisp, pages, "Here lie the writings of the Gypsy Gristalda...."

"Who's Gristalda?" Jonathan had never heard that name from either her or Frank before in all the time that he had been part of their family.

"I don't know. I've never heard it before."

"Susanne, are the entries dated?"

"It looks like it. The first one is dated May 12th, 1874."

"Look ahead, are there any dates that correspond with when the disappearances and deaths from the articles occurred?" Gary hadn't realized how urgent he had begun to sound, but Susie noticed. She quickly thumbed through the book, trying to be as careful as possible not to damage the delicate pages of history. Especially now that they were so close. Most of the writing was in a language she couldn't recognize, but it soon turned to English again, and just in time too. She had found the dates they needed and now they would finally find an answer too horrible to believe, too gruesome to think about, and too sad to bear. "Here it is; I've found them..."

October 10th, 1874,

Dear Friend,

They are all gone now. I remain the only one. Oh how I wish we had not left Louisiana for other parts north. Because of this journey evil has consumed them, and though I know they are all desperate to know, I dare not tell the towns elders of the demon that destroyed my familia. For in this modern day they no longer believe in the things I know to be true and not only would they laugh at a silly young girl's ghoulish nightmare and superstitions, but the kindly family that has taken me in would surely turn me from their home. Nowhere would a twelve year old gypsy girl be welcome after telling of demons walking among them.

October 11th 1874,

Dear Friend,

The couple that has taken me in are truly a blessing and has been so wonderful to me, treating me as one of their own, so in this I must be cautious. A young pair, very much encompassed in love, and in great distress, came unto me in privacy late last evening, and the moment I laid my eyes upon the man named Tobias I knew he had the spirit of the wolf within him. They had heard of my familia and believed I had the power to free them of their curse. They begged my aid for he and his future bride, the fair Dianna, but alas I was not completed with my learning before my familia was taken to the world beyond and I do not know the spell that will remove the curse of the beast from poor Tobias' head. Their pain was so great that I gave them the talisman for protection. It cannot free his spirit, but it shall cage the wolf's spirit. His body shall be the beasts, but it shall no longer take his mind or his soul. I have sent them away to a place of hiding that even I know not of for the safety of the townsfolk that have become beloved to me.

This man that has cursed young Tobias must be a strong, powerful, and evil man. I fear him greatly, for there is much hatred and malevolence within his soul. May the spirits protect me against his darkness.

To dear Tobias, I hold no hatred; no anger of any kind, for it was not he that slew my familia, but the demon that dwells within him and in turn the man who placed that demon there. I cannot bring my beloveds back, but I can help to free Tobias and Dianna, bringing this man's reign to an end, so I shall search my grandmother's grimoire for a cure. They shall not have died in vain. In three days hence I shall meet with Dianna in a secret place under the cover of night, may I be quick in my study.

October 14th 1874,

Dear Friend,

My sorrow is great, for I have searched in vain for a cure to Tobias' terrible disease and tonight I must meet with the fair Dianna to tell her of my failure. May the spirits guide and protect us all. Evil is on the horizon.

October 28th 1874,

Dear Friend,

It is greatly distressing, they are no more, they are dead. I have failed and now at this time I am unable even to release poor Tobias' tortured soul. I shall tell you dear friend then I'll never speak of it again. It shall be buried in my heart alone until it is to be revealed by those yet to come.

After dusk I warily snuck away to the place I was to join the fair Dianna, but nye did she arrive. Fearful for her, I began walking deeper into yon wilderness in search of her. Upon a small lit shack by the water's edge I did come, but no soul was within; only evil lingered inside and out. It was the home of the man that the townsfolk call Saul, and inside I came upon his demon book and the curse that he had lain upon poor Tobias' head.

While there I heard a noise hence and hid myself beneath his cloak covered alter. Soon he, the man Saul, entered, but he was not alone. In his arms he carried he fair Dianna. He then laid her upon his bed, then bent near her ear and whispered something I could not hear to her and she awoke. They began to argue violently and he slew her, his large hands cutting off her very life as he slowly chocked the spirit from her. I was so filled with terrors that I froze and could not move; I could not save her. So I watched from my hidden place as he drug her still warm soul out into the darkness. When I heeded his footsteps no more I regained myself and crawled from my secret place, snatching his book, but too quickly did he return.

He raged as he leapt toward me, covered in blood, and so in my panic I hit him. I hit him in the head... with an iron candlestick I retrieved from his alter, and ran into the night. Not knowing these woods I ran until I was soon lost far from home and was not found until many days later when a kindly hunter came upon me and brought me back. I have been fighting the fever ever since.

As for that dreaded tome, I had hidden it the night of my flight and when I am well again I shall retrieve it from its secret resting place. Then I shall find where Tobias hath concealed himself from the world and release him from his tortured self.

I have heard reports that they have found my familia and the fair Dianna, along with many other missing souls from the town and farms nearby. Each of their precious bodies slain in pieces, but I know that it was not the Tobias beast that slew Dianna. It was the monster that is Saul, he tore her flesh apart and left it to be discovered as one of the beasts many victims. It is too late to help any of those poor lost souls, but at least I now have the power to free Tobias of the dreaded wolf's curse, as long as I can reach him in time. As for his grief when he learns of his beloved's ill fate, that I cannot cure no matter how powerful I am or may become.

November 10th 1874,

Dear Friend,

Today is a day of great joy, yet I cannot entirely feel the happiness that I should on such an occasion. So much has transpired since the fever challenged my life.

Firstly, I have recovered the secret tome of Saul from its hiding place and set out to discover Tobias' place of refuge, but alas as I feared I was not swift enough. Only his transformed body, void of its soul, was left as a testament of his suffering. Their sanctuary was well chosen in the rocky caves by the water's edge. Within the inner sanctum did the young man conceal himself where the only entry to the chamber was too shy for his monstrous demon form to pass beyond; unable to escape his stony prison, unable to harm his beloved Dianna who rested within the outer hollow. It was in this inner cavity he was sealed until he removed the talisman and returned to human form, but out of fear and concern he dared not remove it from his engorged neck, for as I said, it was in this form that I discovered him, having slipped into the world beyond by his unquenched thirst.

I have been fruitless once again and in this my sorrow is great. I could neither save Tobias and now the truth of my failure shall haunt me the rest of my days. I have failed them all, but I will make sure that no one shall ever fall victim to this evil again, for Tobias, now in death, watches over it, guarding it now and for all eternity. I could not aid him, in truth I have learned that I never could, only the one true God in Heaven could.

Today I leave the old ways of the master liar for the true ways of the Almighty forever. Today I am adopted, and rightly christened and baptized 'Tilly Louise Ann May'. I am taking only my knowledge of the medicinal plants into my new life in the hopes that I may aid in the wellbeing of others.

I pray that someday I have the will and the strength to destroy the grimoire of my gypsy grandmother for it in turn is also as evil as Saul's malevolent tome, white or black is the same; wrong; only the lie separates them. Evil begets evil; two wrongs truly don't make a right. Unfortunately as of this moment in my life her book is all that I have left that connects me with my lost familia, and I just cannot bring myself to destroy my last remaining link to my beloved mother... but someday, someday I'll have to.

' _I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.'_

Romans 8:38 & 39

Goodbye dear friend, goodbye.

## Chapter Twenty Two

_some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils;_

I Timothy 4:1

October 8th 1874,

The seed of the beast has been sown, and now is my time to reap the fair Dianna. Tonight shall be the first, the beginning of my reign. I shall watch as it feeds Dianna right into my arms.

October 8th 1874,

The storm raged as it chose its first prey. I followed as it pursued the village woman to the edge of the waters; I reveled as it tore her limbs from her torso one by one, leaving her living head to witness its own beating heart ripped from her breast. What pleasures there are to be had in destroying without consequence.

October 9th 1874,

It came. Again the beast came and though the moon was yet waxing, I could still relish the sacrifices that the beast had chosen. I could feel the rage as the demon chased down and wounded each of the gypsies, rounding them up. There was an intelligence that I had not anticipated in the beast's carnage. I was entranced to witness as it slowly tortured the young ones to the horror of their elder kin, leaving them among the living long enough to watch the same glorious torture thrust upon their beloved elder kin, only to die thereafter. Alone in the hand of pure evil.

A surge of power alighted my body as the creature ripped the throat from the last of the children, then howled with delight at the destruction that it had wrought. I felt the demon's pleasure and I knew it had enjoyed the suffering infinitely more than the kill itself... as do I.

October 10th 1874,

The end is at hand and I shall be victorious. There is one left, one small gypsy girl who shall reveal the monster behind the devastation. This one, this girl, shall deliver the beast, who is the man, to the villagers and the fair Dianna to me. Tonight shall be my last hunt with the thing that shall soon lie dormant once more and the man that shall die at the hands of his friends and family. Victory is mine forever; I will no longer flee from those who do not see the truth of my ways. I will no longer allow others to drive me from my home. Too long have I allowed the weak minded to have their way. I was driven from my rightful home once, I should have made the villagers pay for their insolence long before I left, but they paid none the less.

This new village, or town as they call it here in this land, shall not dictate my future or my ways with their righteous beliefs. First I shall have my beloved Dianna, then one by one I shall convert the people of Epson to the true power of this world where I shall become their chief priest and ruler. Creating in turn the world I should have had long ago, and if they hold to their pitiful God I will crush their 'town' as I did my village and sweep Dianna away to yet another land where we will live forever in power and glory.

October 11th 1874,

My triumph is at hand. Today the holy white orb shall rise in the sky before the first hint of dusk and the beast shall arise while inside their most sacred of places... church. Once they have slain the creature inside their own sanctuary Dianna shall lose herself and I shall be the one to catch her. Using the dormer brew to inhibit her, no physician shall be able to awaken her from her slumber. Then when all have failed to awaken my lady I shall slip her the wakening along with the enslaver to bind her to me forever. Her family and the townsmen shall believe that it was our love that has broken the accursed affliction, restoring her to health, and shall be so grateful for freeing her from death's icy grip that I shall forever be worshiped among them. It shall make them believe. She shall not fight me. We shall be one... forever.

*****

"Aaron, Jeremy had this book in his room. I found it the day that they pulled that couple out of the lake. I remember because it was laundry day. This book was not in this house two days before that."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I was in his room two days earlier searching for hidden dishes that needed washed and it wasn't there."

"It could have been somewhere else."

"No, it couldn't. Jeremy told me himself that he and a bunch of his friends had found it in one of the caves that they were scavenging in on Friday."

"What are you getting at Wendy?" He knew exactly what she was saying, but it sounded so outlandish and downright crazy that he wasn't about to accept it as even a possibility let alone a fact. He had already had enough misgivings about the whole situation and this was only moldy icing on the dried out cake.

"Think about it Aaron, our son finds this book and he and his friends read from it, right after some poor couple, and who knows how many animals, are slaughtered by some monster just like they were in the book. Doesn't that seem just a little too coincidental to you?"

"Wendy, Hun, listen to yourself. It's just a book, a diary of some madman that thought he had some sort of magical powers or something. Things like that just don't happen in real life."

"Aaron, there's more out there in the world than you or I know about. How can you sit there and say that it's not even remotely connected somehow?"

"But Hun, if that's true, if all of this is connected somehow than do you realize what you're implying? I mean really comprehend? Because it sounds to me like you're saying that you think our son, our SON, Wendy, is responsible for all of these... deaths. That our son is some kind of... werewolf or something? That's crazy Wendy!"

"Not completely, since he's the one that read from the book he only called up the demon. It's one of the other boys he was with that night that he must have accidentally turned into a... werewolf as you call it. He only turned it loose by accident, so in a way he is somewhat responsible, but not completely."

"How do you know? How do you know that he's the one that read that... that spell or incantation or whatever? How do you know he's not some kind of monster?" Aaron hadn't realized he had completely let go of his 'crazy' stance and was now more concerned whether or not his little boy was some kind of demonic beast, tearing apart anyone he came across. "I don't care if he did 'call that thing up' as long as he's not the... thing itself. That's all that matters to me."

"No, but don't be so insensitive, somebody out there is, and more than likely it's one of his friends."

"Well what are we supposed to do about it, if there's any truth to it at all that is?" He had returned to his 'crazy' defense, "It's not even a full moon."

"Don't be so sarcastic. It wasn't a full moon the night that that couple was murdered and thrown in the lake, and it wasn't a full moon last night either. I don't think the moon has much of any bearing on it. This isn't the movies Aaron.

Look I know you're worried about Jeremy, but just because he's not the..."

"Werewolf?"

"Fine... werewolf, just because he's not the werewolf doesn't mean that he's not in danger."

"How do you mean?" Had he missed something? He had a gun, and he knew how to use it too. If that thing invaded his home he'd send it back to where it came from before it could blink.

"Just say for the sake of argument that history has accidentally repeated itself, alright?"

"Okay."

"The moon isn't a factor that much we know, right?"

"If you say so."

"The journal never mentioned what actually causes the transformation, it could be anything that triggers it, the sunset, a word, anything. We just don't know."

"Alright, but where are you going with this?"

"I'm getting there; since we have no idea of when it could happen or who it would happen to, Jeremy could be hanging out with his friends and get caught right in the middle of the transformation. He could be there when one of those boys changes Aaron, and what do you think that thing's going to do to him? It's not going to hold back and spare our son just because he happens to be the friend of its host!"

Aaron's head was spinning. This was all too much. It couldn't be true, this couldn't be happening. This was the kind of thing that happened in movies and fiction novels, the kind of story that you told around the campfire or at a slumber party. This was impossible, wasn't it? Then a question resurfaced in his mind and his face went ashen, "Wendy, how do you know that Jeremy was the one that read it? I mean are you absolutely sure he's not...?"

Wendy's blank expression said enough and with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu the two ran for the stairs, vying for the lead, desperate to get to their son. Yet deep within their hearts they were terrified that when they reached his open door they would find an empty bed and their one and only precious gift gone, but not from sneaking out.

Their hearts pounded more from fear than physical exertion as they reached the landings axis and turned for his room, and waves of relief washed their fears aside at the sight of their little boy, tossing and turning in his medicine induced sleep. The pair paused only for a moment releasing a sigh of ease before attempting to reawaken their son. They had a job to do and they desperately needed information, and Jeremy was again awakened by two panicky parents.

"Jeremy, Honey, wake up. Come on, wake up sweetie, this is very important, Jeremy!"

"Mom? What's wrong now? Was I having another nightmare or something?"

"No sweetie, it's nothing like that. We need to know who else was with you when you found that book. You remember; the old one you had on your desk the other day? The one from the caves, remember?"

"Yeah, sure, why?"

"We need to know who read from it. Jeremy, Hun, who read from it? Who was the last one to read from it? Was it you? Were you the last to read from the book? Was it out loud? Jeremy please, we need to know!" Aaron gently squeezed his wife's shoulder to calm her and she realized she was scaring her son.

His mother's frantic demeanor and his father's stressed figure looming behind her was a red flag to be completely honest, he dare not hold anything back. "We all did."

"Who's we sweetheart? I need to know." She was doing her best to control her anxiety.

"Well...," still groggy from the medication he struggled to recall the events of the past few days, and not to slur his speech, "there was Will Raleigh and his brother, Jacob. Chris was there Chris Mann, and Mike was there too. Why what's wrong?"

"You mean Michael Lamb?"

"Yeah. What's going on Mom?"

"Jeremy, listen to me, this is very important, think hard now. Who was the last one of you to read aloud from the book?"

"Why, did we do something wrong?"

"Jeremy, please, just tell me!"

"It was me okay. Mom you're scaring me. What's this all about? Did I do something wrong?"

Wendy felt a pang of guilt and unease and turned towards her husband for reassurance and support, turning the conversation over to him.

"No son. You haven't done anything wrong at all. It's just that we think that there may be a connection between the attacks lately and the book that you found that's all. Your mother and I just want to make sure that you and your friends that were with you that night are alright."

"Really? You mean you think someone's after that book and they're killing for it?"

"Something like that, but don't worry. You're safe here, understand?"

Jeremy nodded, but he wasn't sure that he did understand. Why would someone kill for that old thing, let alone kill livestock? That didn't make sense, but if it were true was he in danger? Would they come after him, and if someone was after the book itself then why were his parents so desperate to know who had read it? The medicine was fogging his mind and he couldn't concentrate on any answers.

Wendy and Aaron hated lying to him, but neither had the heart to tell him the truth. I mean, how do you tell your child, your only child, that you believe he may have turned one of his friends into a bloodthirsty monster? With that Wendy had one more thing to say before leaving him to his oncoming slumber.

"Please promise me that you won't sneak out tonight. Promise me that you'll stay here no matter what, alright?" She peered deep into Jeremy's eyes as he promised and knew this time she could trust him.

"Thank you Jeremy."

His parents waited until they were downstairs, out of earshot before continuing their tette a tette in hushed tones, in case of eavesdropping teenage ears.

"Oh Aaron, I hated lying to him, but what could we do?"

"I know what you mean, I felt that same nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach too, but you're right, there wasn't any other way. I mean how could we tell him that in some way he's responsible for the murders?"

The two looked to each other, each sensing a mix of fear and concern looming behind their eyes before glancing towards the ceiling as if looking at their son above, wondering what to do next.

## Chapter Twenty Three

_who shall deliver me from the body of this death?_

Romans 7:24

"Michael! Turn down that racket! Michael, do you hear me? I can't even hear myself think! Your father is TRYING to watch TV! Michael... Michael... do you hear me? MIIICHAEEEL!!! Good for nothing little punk, I swear that kid gets worse every day."

The muffled sounds of his mother's voice could not be heard over the blaring alternative metal pouring from Michael's stereo, his desperate attempt to down the horrific thoughts racing through his mind. His next attempt lie on his bed in front of him. The pile of pills from his mother's private medicine cabinet held more colors than the rainbow, and he hoped that they would soon send him over it; permanently. Many of the tiny narcotics shown phosphorescently under the glow of his black light, while 3-D gargoyle, reaper, and dragon pictures silently watched over him.

His way out, his painless way out lay in front of him. He couldn't live with the truth; he couldn't live with what he saw, with what he... was. The cop had been his breaking point. He knew where the remains were, he knew when the man was killed, and he knew how, but worst of all he knew who had done it. The moment the call had come into the house and his mother's gossiping jaw went to work it was confirmed. He had had to dash for his bathroom to keep from vomiting all over himself. For almost two hours his head hung over the toilet as his stomach ejected its contents over and over again. The guilt was more than he could bear. The knowledge was more than he could live with. Still, with all the evidence he had, with all of his recent experiences, he had a difficult time believing that any of it could possibly be true.

Things like this were impossible; wasn't all that stuff about demons and monsters made up, but now it was smack dab in his face, the reality and his answer. Only it was an answer, and not the right one. He didn't want to die, all his talk about death and darkness was just his way of dealing, or not dealing, with his problems.

He thought he'd be better off dead than to have to go through life rejected, unloved, unwanted, his hand trembled as he picked up a small handful of luminescent caplets, swirling them around in his clammy palm with his finger. Tears began welling in Michael's eyes as he lifted the drugs to his mouth, preparing himself for what, if anything lay beyond; but now with death sitting on his bed with him and so much riding on his life; he realized that he truly wanted to live.

A surge of energy flooded throughout his mind and body as he flung his legs off the bed and the pills into the trash. He flipped on his light and took a good look at his room. A new spirit flowed within him, giving him the strength to change his life and his situation. He switched off the violently blaring music; throwing the disc into the garbage then turned to his music collection, thinning them out as well till only a few were left. His paraphernalia and anything else dark and sinister went into the trash right next to the drugs. He tore the cult posters from his walls and stuffed them in next. The black make up followed soon after, while his chains, body piercings, and other jewelry that wasn't of a satanic, demonic, occult, or drug related went into his small keepsake chest, the rest took their final resting place in the trashcan with the rest of his past.

If he truly was... what he was, then all those stories weren't just make-believe. That would mean that Satan wasn't just a bedtime tale to make children behave either, he or it or whatever Satan was; was real too. Though that thought chilled Michael's heart the fact that there was a real devil meant that there truly was a God as well. A true, for real, loving and forgiving God that sent His own son Jesus Christ to earth to be beaten into a bloody pulp then hung on a cross so that He could take away our sins then rise again three days later, all so that we could once again be with Him, and if there was a God like that out there looking over him, then there had to be another way. He would have made sure of that. Yes, there had to be another way, a better way, and he was going to find it. Michael may not have known exactly what he had to do or would have to do to free himself from this thing inside him, but he knew that the church was the place to start. They would at least have a Bible; that was more than he had at that moment, and from what he understood the Bible was the one book in the world that had all the answers. Even the answer to something as bizarre as this, and answers were what he needed.

He rummaged through his dresser and hamper, before grabbing the only clean, and decent, shirt he could find in his closet, turned for the door, and hit the floor... completely unconscious.

## Chapter Twenty Four

_but he that believeth not shall be damned._

Mark 16:16

The nocturnal beings of nature foretold the uprising of the storm, had Harold Pintac stopped to listen to their prophetic silence, he too would have known, but all Harold ever listened to was himself. Himself, and the marketing report that is, and the only thing running through his arrogant mind at that moment was finding the keys to his brand new, jet black, Lincoln that the company had so generously provided his very deserving self.

The electric buzz of the dimming street lights, the swishing of his four hundred and sixty dollar suit pants rubbing to his rhythm, his two hundred and eighty-five dollar matching shoes hitting the pavement then echoing across the near deserted parking lot. They, of course, were his cheapest pair, after all why wear the best for hicks. Even the sound of his own breath screamed their warnings. Still he failed to notice that the only sounds in the night were coming from him and the flickering street lamp hanging above, and of course a man as oblivious to all this had absolutely no chance what so ever of detecting the hellish fiend that had risen behind him. It wasn't until he felt the stabbing pain and heard the crack of his own fracturing skull before sinking into the black abyss of unconsciousness, did he realize that he wasn't alone, and then it was too late.

Too easy, it was too easy to kill the stinking pile of flesh lying sprawled on the asphalt. The devil swayed its massive fur ridden head methodically as it watched the first drops of a gushing rain blend with the stream of crimson flowing from its prey's self-absorbed head.

With the unnatural storm in full force now aiding its cover, the blood thirsty beast stretched out its immense hand, its talon nails easily puncturing Harold's beloved coat, and dragged the plaything home.

Its thighs bulged, as did all its massive muscles. They were thick, hard, tightened springs, ready to unwind their fury upon the fresh meat it drug behind. Harold's precious suit, his status symbol, was quickly saturated with mud, rain, and blood, but the extra weight of it all made little difference to the thing with immeasurable strength. The beast's deep tracks flooded with water no sooner than it had left them behind, then wiped from the earth's muddy existence by the temporarily comatose and now very popular Harold Pintac.

Harold finally awoke to the blackness of nowhere and the panic of blindness. The throbbing pain in his head and body ran rampant, and he whimpered ever so slightly; when, before it could register, shadows appeared as the lightning reared its furious head; revealing to him, though blurry, that his eyesight was still intact. As his pupils slowly adjusted to their dark surroundings he could make out the rocky walls of a prison and his exit from it, but the real mystery soon surfaced. How had he gotten here, better yet; where was here, and why was that shadow moving like that?

The moment the creature had so patiently awaited was finally at hand. It had awakened, and now it was playtime. Slowly the beast tilted its grotesque, malformed head to the side, staring at the meat that lay before it. The man's blood pulsed and blazed a phosphorescent red so bright the demon could trace the life's liquid streaming through every vein throughout his body. Its nostrils flared in disgust at the revolting fragrance omitted by the human flesh sitting only feet away. The man saw it, but was not afraid. Impressive; or stupid, it had never in all its existence had a human look upon it without terror in their hearts. Hunching in the deep, the near frenzied entity crept slowly towards its next kill, intensifying the moment. Step after step, footfall after footfall, yet still the insolent man feared it not. Enraged, the burning hatred inside flamed higher within the monsters bowels, its hairs, each one standing at attention as it huffed ever closer. How dare this lower life form not quiver with terror at its mighty demonic power? Didn't the worm know its fate? Didn't it know what the thing of nightmares was going to do, what pain it was going to inflict upon his pitiful fleshy body?

Harold was not afraid at all, how could he possibly be scared of something that he did not believe in, that didn't even exist? To him there had to be a rational and reasonable, scientific, explanation. He continued to stick with his previous theory of suffering from hallucinations from that excuse of a hospital. Better yet he was so exhausted that he must have fallen asleep at the wheel. That's why he couldn't remember anything after having walked to his car; that had to be it. He was dreaming, and now he had to awaken from his Little Red Riding Hood dream before he wrapped his precious new car around some stupid tree. He cursed the town for bringing him here and filling his head with the nonsense that had brought on such a pathetic dream, but the "anomaly" with the hypnotically blazing yellow eyes, consumed with fire, kept coming; and he was not waking up. "It's not real, it's NOT real!"

With the demon's fury pulsating uncontrollably and the man's scientific convictions unwavering the slaughter began. In one furious downward slash, its curved jagged claws sliced effortlessly through the soft, mud stained cloth and flesh of Harold's right arm, opening his pink meat and multicolored veins, spattering his blood on the surroundings forming miniature, trickling rivers of scarlet. Yet Harold remained silent, not a sound escaped from him, not a scream, not a moan, not even a whimper; nothing. He couldn't; disbelief, confusion, and pure shock held Pintac's mind tightly in its grasp, so entirely in fact that even the pain had failed to set in; until slash two that is. The lightning illuminated the outline of a hair ridden arm looming over him poised for its next strike. It's movement slowing in Harold's mind, allowing him time even to notice the fur flowing from the force of the oncoming blow. The slash tore through his right leg as if it was nothing more than tissue paper, painting the walls with Harold's warm, spurting, blood. A yell echoed off those same stony walls, reverberating in the ears of both butcher and damned, but it wasn't the scream of terror and pain that the beast desired, but a cry of shock.

"Who are you?" Harold was finally suffering from the throbbing pain of his shredded muscles and tattered tendons, but still his denial allowed only for a tiny outburst of surprise. To him, this wasn't happening, it wasn't real, it didn't exist. Finally, with the decimation of his other leg, Harold's mind relented to the flood of agony, crushing his illusion of disbelief, giving the demon the first howls of pain that sent ripples of pleasure down its twisted spine, but still there was no terror in it. Infuriated to the breaking point, the hell beast shook, and struggled with itself to regain control. It would not let its rage consume it again. It was torturing this kill for pleasure and the inferior swine would not cause it to lose out on such ecstasy. The thing would not be denied.

The mutilation was violent, yet meticulous. By working counterclockwise and avoiding major arteries the beast was assured extra time to play with its meal before the loss of the man's warm sticky liquid sent him to the world that awaited him. It was savoring the moment, every moment.

Slowly the hellish assailant raised its index claw to Harold's eyes, teasing and taunting, before using the razor sharp weapon to cut away the sleeves pathetically protecting his remaining arm, exposing his still bruising flesh. Harold Pintac watched, as if entranced, unable to turn away, as the beast slowly and maniacally sank the same hot, talon deep into his shoulder. Screams of pain shattered the stillness that had settled in the cave, sending the creatures muscles twitching with delight. Excited and energized, the monster began to twist its built in blade bit by bit, awaiting for one wail to die with the tiny hint of numbing relief, before twisting again. Had the demon been any less in control, the madness of delight would have consumed it completely; sending it bounding with joy, but the hatred and evil within such a creature held its demented mind just within the boundaries of hellish sanity.

Relief had crept over Harold Pintac, his shoulder agonized until finally growing completely numb, and the steamy, pumping, flow of his life's blood emptying onto his sandy death bed only aided in his failing senses. Unfortunately the moment was over as soon as it had begun. Pain wracked his entire being like burning daggers when the beastly blade began slicing to and fro down his entire arm in a zig zag pattern that mutilated every muscle, tendon, vein, and nerve it touched. Yet Harold's cries still held no hint of fear of the demon looming above him. Even as it tore his still beating heart from his chest and held it before him; Harold relented not. From the saliva drooling lips of his nightmarish murderer he heard two words, "Fear Me." slither out.

"You're... not... real. I don't... believe... in you."

"But I believe in you." He never heard his torturer's last words, for Harold the true pain was only beginning.

Hotter and hotter he grew until his skin began to bubble and burst, spewing fluids all around him. He was dead, he had to be, of that he was sure; but how? How was he... aware and how could he feel? How could he possibly see himself clothed in his cheapest suit, and how could he see his surroundings as plain as if it was day? His surroundings... where was he now? The walls had no seams, no corners, no ceiling, and no floor, he was floating. Wait a moment. Harold contorted around and around in his suspended void. The walls... they were... moving! No, not just moving, the walls were alive, pulsating and writhing, and secreting blood, bile, and all manner of foul smelling fluids that turned his non-existent, recently deceased stomach.

Harold stretched forth his hand to touch the living mass, his curiosity overriding his common sense, only to find the oozing juices burned like acid, melting away his fingers in seconds, bone and all. The pain, the pain, first his blistering flesh and now his liquefying hand. For the first time in his known life he began to panic. It couldn't be real, but the pain, the pain. He couldn't awaken from this nightmare, and the agony was more than he had ever known and it was only increasing.

His mind began to shatter, unable to accept where his life had led him, before suddenly being thrown into an abyss of darkness so intense he was unable to see his remaining hand in front of his eyes, but he was not alone. His sanity snapped back when he heard the first screeching... the screeching of demons. The deafening wails of countless others could be heard all around him, above him, below him, flying so close he could feel their drafts..., then he felt them. Hundreds of razors dug into his body from every direction, creating hundreds of tiny gashes, each burning, each eating away at his flesh and his last remaining sanity, only to start all over again, having been wholly restored. It would be months of this torture before Dr. Harold Pintac admitted the truth, that he was wrong. There is a God, there is a Satan, and yes Harold, there is a Hell.

The blood soaked beast closed its bright yellow eyes and watched the man's descent into his eternity, finally hearing the horrified screams it craved. A guileful smile played on the things rubbery lips as it watched Harold's endless torment from beyond. The lightning flashed above, illuminating the monstrous creature still hovering over the ravaged corpse of the former Dr. Harold Pintac. This body warranted no hiding and deserved no burial. The thing raised its mighty arms to the sky and threw back its deformed head letting out an earth rattling howl of victory in contempt of the Man upstairs, overpowered only by the thunder that muffled its cry from the town.

The night was young, and the fun was just beginning, before the darkness and the storm were through the town would never again forget the demonic beast that walked among them so many years ago, and walks among them once more. Its glory would be fulfilled this time.

Still in ecstasy from the decimation and eternal damnation of Harold Pintac, the savage slipped out into the night, disappearing into the forest, the rain, and the darkness, but not for long. For it was on the hunt again, and this time it yearned for witnesses.

## Chapter Twenty Five

_For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then I shall know even also as I am known._

I Corinthians 13:12

"Mr. Raleigh? Hi, this is Wendy Kinsington. I realize what time it is and I'm so sorry to be calling you this late, but it seems that my son, Jeremy, and some of his friends have been sneaking out after curfew and I was wondering if you could check on your boys. I'm concerned about them with the recent events and all."

"No, no, don't worry about it. If my boys are sneaking out I wanna know about it. I'll go peek in on them right now, just a minute, hold on."

Wendy turned back to Aaron and covered the mouthpiece just in case, "I hate to lie and possibly get these boys in trouble like this."

"Well Hun, what can we do? Say, 'Hey Oscar, we think our son may have put a curse on one of your boys that causes him to turn into a demonic monster that's been going around town slaughtering cattle and ripping people to shreds.' I can just see that, that'd go over real well; we might as well start packing now. Oscar has a pretty good sense of humor, but not that good."

*****

Oscar Raleigh set the phone on the hall table and quietly tiptoed towards his sons' room. If he's learned one thing with having two sons, it's that he had to take them by surprise before they had a chance to corroborate their stories. At times he used the same technique that the police do, separate and interrogate, a.k.a. divide and conquer. He could see the light streaming from under their door and he paused, pressing his ear against it, listening for sounds of life. After a few moments of listening to muffled music combined with the amusing 'knuck, knuck, knucks,' of the Three Stooges, he opened the door and took a head count; one. "Hey Will, where's your brother?"

"Shower, why? What'd he do now?"

"Nothing that I know of, unless you know something I don't?" He gave his son 'the look' most parents give when they feel that something is up and are trying to draw out any info possible testing their reactions. In return Will gave him his best 'What? Don't look at me. I don't know a thing.', look.

"What am I, my brother's keeper? If you tell me that I'm supposed to watch him shower I'm looking for a new family in the morning."

Oscar studied his son's face, then went to the boy's bathroom and peeked in. The steam blanketed the mirror and swirled like mini cyclones. For all he knew, with this mist Daffy Duck could have been the one in the shower, but the slightly off key voice wafting through the thick clouds was unmistakably that of Jacob's. Satisfied and in a hurry to get back to Mrs. Kinsington, he closed the door and turned back to Will.

"I'd wait a couple of hours at least if you plan to take a shower tonight. You're brother's about to drain the hot water heater." With that he said goodnight and returned to the hall and the anxiously awaiting Kinsingtons.

Will, on the other hand, watched his father leave out of the corner of his eye and waited for his footfalls to fade before taking a small piece of paper out of his nightstand drawer and made another mark under a column that read, 'Jacob owes me'. Then he carefully placed the tally sheet back in the drawer, went into the bathroom, and turned off the water and the recording of his brother's lame attempt at singing.

*****

"Yes Mr. Raleigh, oh yes of course, Oscar. They're there? Great, I'm so sorry for worrying you, but... yes I agree, their safety is the most important thing. I hope you won't be too hard on them, Jeremy assured me that they haven't snuck out lately, since the... deaths that is, but it never hurts to check. Oh that's good... that's true, we have pulled our own stunts as well. Well let me get off here, I have a few more calls to make and the sooner the better. God bless you too, Mr.... Oscar. Good night to you and your wife, Bye."

Wendy pressed the off button and began flipping through her address book for the next number, "Well that takes care of the Raleigh boys and Ms. Mann said that Chris was sacked out on the couch in front of the television, so that only leaves Michael Lamb."

An overwhelming sensation took Wendy's stomach from her throat to the floor. This was the moment that changed so many lives forever not just hers, as the phone rang she prayed that she had been wrong and that young Michael was right where he was supposed to be. Her heart seemed to stop beating when Marion Lamb returned to the phone and angrily related her son's missing state.

"I just can't believe he'd do something like this, then again, yes I can. He's been so... so, so deviant lately. I just don't know what I'm going to do with him; reform school seems like a good idea at the moment. It's just like him to run off and disappear when there's a murderous freak on the loose. Michael just doesn't stop to think about things. Sometimes I don't even believe he thinks at all, and now he's out there, runnin' around, while some lunatic..." It was at that moment Marion ceased being angry and realized that her baby boy was in real danger, "Oh Wendy, what am I gonna' do? What if he runs into that thing and it... it...?" She couldn't continue as the last vestiges of anger faded away into panic and her 'rotten punk' of a son transformed back into her little boy.

"Don't worry Marion; he's probably close by somewhere. I'll call Officer Carpell and he'll get right out and pick him up if he's out there and bring him home safe and sound, where you can ground him for the rest of the summer if you like. Most likely he's somewhere in the house sulking or something, you know how teenagers are. You check the house again and I'll make that call, alright? You just hang in there, okay?"

"You think?"

"I know when Jeremy gets mad or something's bothering him and he can't leave the house he goes out on the roof of the garage and pouts things out for a while, it's possible."

Marion thought it over for a moment and began making a mental note of all the possible places that Michael could have stashed himself. "But you're still gonna' call Gary right? And you're gonna' tell him that he's missing, just in case? And you will call me right, and tell me what he said? And you'll make sure to have him call me as soon as he finds some... him right?"

"Yes, of course I'll make sure you know everything that's going on; okay? Now go ahead and have a good look around while I make that call. Good bye Marion."

Wendy had done her best to keep her voice as calm as could be using the tone she usually uses for work when things go wrong. Marion was one more person she had added to her list of those she had lied to this evening, but that couldn't be helped now; there were more important things to think about right now. Michael WAS missing, and like it or not her worst fears were being realized. The chance that she was jumping to conclusions was waning and now she had to call Officer Carpell and explain her crazy theory to him. It'd be easier if she could just tell him that Michael Lamb was missing, but if he truly was... responsible for the attacks, than she couldn't let him walk into the same thing that Frank had the night before. Then again what if he thought she was nuts and it went around town that Wendy Kinsington had lost her mind, what kind of an impact would that have on not only her, but her entire family? Things like that don't just blow over in a small town like Epson. Back and forth she volleyed between her conscience and reason.

"Well you have to tell him something Wendy. You can't wait much longer, one thing's for sure, Michael's gone."

Aaron was right, tempes fugen, and she had promised Marion. She had to see this thing through and even though her reputation was on the line, it wasn't worth more than a man, or a boy's, life. She dialed the phone one more time and rehearsed what she was going to say as best she could.

*****

A ring shot through the silence that had crept its way in, bringing all three from their own personal reveries. Three rings had passed before any of them realized that it was the howl of the telephone that had brought them back to the stuffy, dusty attic. With their minds and bodies once more reunited, the three were off on a race to cease the phone before it woke the children. Unfortunately no one stopped to think that their thundering footfalls descending two flights of wooden stairs caused a greater racket than the phones high pitched jingle.

They hit the ground floor with one final thud, each heading in a different direction, Susanne to the left, Jonathan to the right, and Gary stopping in his tracks, remembering that not only did he have no idea where the phone might be, but it wasn't even his phone to begin with. It was Susanne who answered the phone, but it was Gary who answered the call.

"Hi Susanne, this is Wendy Kinsington. I'm so sorry to be calling so late. I hope I didn't wake the kids?"

"Not at all Wendy. We were just up in the attic going through some things and I had left the phone downstairs; way downstairs. What can I do for you?" She expected to hear the first of many phone condolences, but she was mistaken.

"Actually I was looking for Officer Carpell. I called the station and they reported that he had gone out to your place after his shift and as far as they knew he was still there, and his cell keeps saying he's out of range. Is he there by any chance? I really need to speak to him, it's very important."

"Yeah, of course Wendy. Just a minute." The two men watched anxiously as Susanne stepped towards them each knowing this was no courtesy call as she held out the phone to Gary, silently signaling the call was his. He took the phone and walked away, expecting to hear that another mutilated body had been found, but what he heard was worse; much worse.

"This is Officer Carpell. What can I do for you?"

"Gary? This is Wendy Kinsington. I'm calling to report that Marion Lamb's son Michael is missing. I told her that I'd call you; she's a little hysterical at the moment so I have her doing another search of their home to keep her busy."

"Thank you for calling me, I'll get a team out to search for him immediately."

"Um, Gary?" It was now or never, "It may not be that simple, there's another reason why I called."

She took a deep breath and prepared to put her future as a sane citizen on the line, "I need to discuss something with you."

"What is it Wendy?"

"Well it's about the identity of the murderer." If Gary could see her chewing her bottom lip and twisting her hair, he'd know just how nervous she was.

"Do you have some information for me?"

"I think so. I mean I believe I might." She was jumbling her words; her prepared 'speech' forgotten.

"Just slow down Wendy and tell me what you know or think you know. Don't worry, any little thing could be helpful and right now nothing is too small... or too strange." He wasn't sure if should have thrown that in, but it was the truth.

"Okay; here it goes. This may sound a little crazy; a lot crazy actually, but were you by any chance leaning towards identifying the... responsible party as an animal of some kind?"

"That is one of the possibilities, as we told the press."

"More specifically an unknown animal?"

This was beginning to sound too familiar for comfort, "Unknown as in...?"

"Never seen before, previously unknown about, thought to be... make-believe?"

"Wendy, you know that I am not at liberty to reveal..."

"Oh, come on Gary, you know as well as I do that you can't keep anything in this town a secret for long. Please Gary, I need to know."

He was withholding information because of his job and his desire to keep it; he knew that nothing stayed a secret in Epson. It was his sanity he was concerned about, no one would want a cop protecting their town who believed the boogie man did it, but there was something in her voice, her questions, and his gut that told him she had another piece of the puzzle.

"Okay, alright, yes; that is one of the possibilities. Now it's your turn to be straight with me Wendy. Quid pro quo, now what do you know that you're not telling me?"

"Please promise me that you'll keep an open mind?"

"Believe me it couldn't get any more open. Now what is it?"

"I happened to run across a journal from the eighteen- hundreds, well, actually Jeremy and his friends found it while they were searching the caves for lost treasure..."

"Wendy, you're stalling," he paused, "whatever it is Wendy, I won't think you're nuts and it won't go any further than us if that's what you want."

Reassured she continued, "I began translating the passages and found that the man that wrote it thought that he could curse people and turn them into..." she took a deep breath, but Gary finished for her.

"Werewolves?"

"How'd you know?"

"I'm on my way over. We need to talk."

## Chapter Twenty Six

_bear witness of evil._

John 18:23

Viney fingers grasped at his ankles, their thorn ridden claws digging deep into his flesh. The storm had eased into a slight shower and the gleam of a nearly full moon played hide and seek within the clouds lighting his path, except he had no idea what his path was. All he knew was the panic that had consumed his heart, and the terrifying images that had invaded his brain. Visions of a strange man in a tattered, mud ridden suit, spurting blood from his lips as a crimson river flowed from his heartless chest. His eyes narrowing into the empty blackness of death.

Faster and faster he ran, desperate to outrun the horrors inside his own head. He watched the pounding rain wash the splattered AB negative from the sheriff's headlights and his blood soaked badge drip pink bloodlets from its polished points. Then Katherine's terrified face, streaked with dirt, blood, and tears, her screams echoing within him. He felt he had lost all trace of sanity as more visions ravaged him. Taillights streaming through the rain, shattered glass flying in all directions, a headless man twitching violently behind the wheel, and a woman's mutilated face; her muscles left dangling like frayed strings, and her bones protruding from unnatural openings.

He relived the desolation of old man Farley's cattle and his collies. Michael's journey to the beginning of Epson's horrors was now complete, but the images were far from over. He plunged deeper into the forest towards the gates of madness. Further and further his mind transported him to see the beast itself, writhing in agony, imprisoned inside a cave, its monstrous form too massive to slither through the only opening leading to the outside world. It was trapped. Contained in that cave, and that cave... he knew that cave! He had been there only days ago. Had it been that soon, he couldn't tell? He didn't know what to believe anymore. The line between fantasy and reality had diminished so much he was unable to trust his own mind, but what choice did he have?

Michael turned towards the caves, hoping that he had received an answer to his prayers, while the visions continued to bombard him. Scurrying over rocks and sand, drenched in mud and sweat, blood and tears, the final image came. - To and fro the pendulum swayed, grasping the light with each rhythmic swing. Finally it ceased its dance; gracefully settling into a spin that slowed to reveal its identity, and miraculously, no sooner had he seen his heart's desire than he was standing at the grotto.

Michael carefully, but thankfully entered the fated cave, groping his way around centuries old rock formations. He felt for the hole that led to his prison, desperate to hide away from the world. He refused to give his eyes time to adjust to the darkness that surrounded him; time was short, he franticly sought safety not only for himself, but for all those he cared about, and he wasn't denied.

Elated, he flung himself through the small entranceway, slipping into the inner sanctum, landing on his side with a slight thud. He coughed and grasped for clean air on all fours like a dog in the black abyss. Dirt and sand swirled around him, his hands scavenging the earthen surface, hunting for the mystical talisman of his vision, and his salvation. Over rough rocks and smooth stones his fingers quested. His worthless eyes closed to the dust, his sense of touch their replacement as he combed the ground below, until his palm fell on what he thought to be another large, smooth rock, but it wasn't heavy enough to be a stone... and rocks don't have teeth either.

Michael flung the skull back to the ground, disgusted and shuffled away breaking down into sobs, but curiosity soon tackled his fear and he sought it out again. As his digits prodded over the bone he came to realize the skull wasn't human. Its form was nearly twice the size of a full grown man's and its upper jaw protruded immensely, housing a set of jagged teeth sharp enough even now to slice effortlessly through the toughest of tendons and large enough to crush the hardest of bones. Here lay the remains of the beast of his visions, the creature of the past.

Was he the previous demon as well, had he somehow been reincarnated to once again destroy life in this quaint hamlet of South Carolina? Were these his bones that lay in the dirt long forgotten, trapped here in this same rocky prison before dying a slow and painful death only to do it again, had he come back to kill even more than before? Was he really some sort of demon, born of Hell, destined, or cursed, to destroy those he knew and loved over and over again, or was there another demon that he was somehow connected to? So many new questions plagued his mind, but one fact was certain, if its bones were still here, undisturbed in this sanctuary after all these decades than the talisman had to be here as well.

The skull forgotten, he turned back to the dusty ground, a femur, a rib, collar bones, a leather strap... torn, tattered, and broken; but there was no amulet, no safety, no salvation. Michael held his breath, reaching back to the earth below. A little to the left, a little to the right, and there, there buried in the soft substrate was the cold metal object of his desire. He clutched the charm to his chest, crying loudly, and fell to the ground. This was it; everyone in Epson would be safe from the monster that lurked within him. He huddled against the furthest wall of the cavern, rocking back and forth to an inaudible beat, repeating these three words, "God help me. God help me. God help me. God help me...."

## Chapter Twenty Seven

_How be it when he, the spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth; and he will shew you things to come._

John 16:13

The doorbell's chime rattled the stillness and the already frayed nerves of the Kinsington home, fracturing the heavy silence that had settled ever since Wendy's second call to Mrs. Lamb. She had prayed to hear that they'd found Michael tucked away in some nearly forgotten corner of their home, but all she got was an increasingly hysterical Marion. Since then neither her nor Aaron had spoken more than two words, and both were relieved to see Susanne Marshall and Gary Carpell standing on their front stoop, hat in hand. Of course a werewolf wouldn't ring the bell, but the imagination does have a way of running wild and their nerves were stressed to the breaking point.

Werewolf... just the thought of the word was unimaginable, let alone saying it out loud. It drew images from movies, books, and ghost stories from ages old, and by the looks on the faces before them their thoughts held the same heaviness coupled with a strong desire to be inside the safety of four brick walls. The greetings were short, but polite, no one wanting to be the first to sound like a superstitious nut.

"Gary, Susanne, so glad you could make it. Please, please come in." Aaron stood aside and ushered them both inside.

"Susie, Gary, hi. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, soda, towel? There I go sounding like a flight attendant." She was so nervous she didn't know where to start; or stop.

"Hello Aaron, Wendy. Susanne wanted to come too. I tried to talk her out of it, but you see how well that worked out. Never was able to tell a Marshall anything." The words slipped out before he realized it. Things had been happening so fast he'd nearly forgotten that only hours ago he himself had handled the remains of Frank in his hands.

"Oh, Susanne, I'm so sorry, I didn't even give my condolences when I called. Frank was such a wonderful man and the best sheriff this town has ever had. If you need you can put the boys to bed in our guest room. I realize it's nearly midnight and they must be exhausted."

"It's alright Wendy and thank you, but Jonathan came back with me and he's at home watching over the boys. I just came because I wanted to give you this." In her hand was the leather bound journal of her grandmother, worn and tattered from the years it had lived.

"It's my grandmother's diary. I just found it this evening, most of it's written in another language and I was hoping that you might be able to translate some of it for me."

Wendy glided across the foyer, her eyes fixed on the book in Susanne's hands. Her fingers gently caressed the leather bound treasure, feeling every bump and scratch before taking possession of another piece of the past. Mesmerized, Wendy walked out of the room, barely mumbling an invitation to follow her.

"I'm sorry, but when Wendy sees anything dealing with history, especially the written word, like a book or parchment, she completely zones out, just like our son and the television. I believe she was inviting you into the living room to have a seat." His joke did little to lighten the mood making him feel more like an idiot for trying than anything else. Sheepishly Aaron gestured in the direction Wendy had disappeared, following the sullen group. Wendy was oblivious to the three onlookers sitting nervously on the edge of their seats, no one wanting to be the first to speak about what they had come for even avoiding each other's gaze.

To him time was too short and too important to waste and Aaron wasn't about to sit in silence any longer. He stood, taking determined strides to the fireplace, putting himself center stage; gathering the attention of their visitors, but not his wife; her concentration he could not break. With almost every eye upon him he cleared his throat and jumped.

"While on a routine dirty dish hunt in our son's room Wendy came upon an unusual book that she's been studying for the past couple of days, actually she hasn't been able to keep her nose out of it as you can see." As if on cue, Wendy popped up from her newest discovery. "Huh?" bringing a soft, halfhearted, chuckle from the group. "I'll let her tell you the details of what she's uncovered. Wendy... earth to Wendy... you hoo?"

She was sitting in her favorite wing back chair next to the fireplace, having dedicated the couch to Saul's journal, still holding the gypsy's words in her lap where she had retreated, almost drooling over the new knowledge in her hands. Finally, on his third attempt, her husband's words slipped through, grabbing her attention.

"Yes dear?"

"I was just telling Gary and Susanne about the book that you found in Jeremy's room. You know more about it than I do, would you enlighten us?"

"Oh, yeah... uh, where do I begin? Let's see... well, as Aaron said I was scavenging around in Jeremy's room for dirty dishes," she had heard more than they thought, "he has this innate ability to use every dish in the house and just leave them in his room. Under the bed, on his desk, on the floor, on the dresser, even in his closet, can you believe it? How do you get dirty dishes in the closet." she paused sheepishly, "I'm avoiding the subject aren't I? Sorry, I guess I'm just a little bit nervous." She took a deep breath and began again.

"Anyway, I found this extremely interesting book on his desk; it seems it was the personal journal of some crazed madman named..."

"Saul?" The Kinsingtons froze.

"How did you know that?"

"It's in that book on your lap."

Wendy's heart skipped as she fingered through the tattering pages, but now was not the time, "Tell me about it."

Susanne was now in the spotlight, "as I said, that's my grandmother's diary. It turns out she was the only survivor of a gypsy caravan."

"The one! The one that escaped!"

"What?"

"The book, it's in the book, it's a combination spell book and journal."

"That must be the one my grandmother hid."

"Hid? Really? But why?"

Susanne began the tale of her grandmother's origin and her encounter with the evil that she had learned of only moments earlier. "It's all in her journal."

"I've got to read this book. So what happened, Saul's entries just ceased?"

"More like de-ceased," the story continued 'til she had purged her knowledge of the past. Wendy was itching to dive into the new manuscript, but her husband felt only sick and uneasy.

"I had no idea there was such sorted history here in Epson. It sounds more like some sci-fi, soap opera you'd run up on at two in the morning than reality that's for sure." His wife snickered at his view of their tiny town's sinister past.

"Actually Aaron, there are twisted stories like this in almost every corner of the world. The older the town is the more tales you tend to find and most of them have some basis in fact, though they're usually considered to be folklore or urban legends. In fact two very famous, classic, horror novels were based on real people. Mary Shelly's Frankenstein was reported to be inspired by Johann Konrad Dippel von Frankenstein; a brilliant man, probably a genius. Unfortunately there's that thin line between genius and insanity and this guy definitely crossed it a time or two after becoming obsessed with alchemy and a little thing called The Elixir of Life. He began experimenting with animal parts trying to find the secret of eternal life and was even reported to have done a little grave robbing in his time before dying of a stroke in 1734; though some like to speculate that he died of poison, possibly from his own elixir.

Then there's Bram Stoker's Dracula, which was most likely based on the infamous Prince Vlad Die Tepes aka, Vlad the Impaler, son of Dracul. Who, though he's considered a hero to his fellow countrymen for beating back the Turks from Romania, was nothing more than a bloodthirsty killer. He would torture anyone for his personal entertainment usually by impalement, which he worked very hard to perfect to prevent his victims from dying too soon. It is widely reported that he would order the impalement of thousands of men, women, and children at once then sit amongst the bodies enjoying dinner, eating bread that had been dipped in the blood of his victims to savor the moment. Records show that by the time he was killed in December of 1476 at the age of 45 he had murdered approximately one hundred thousand souls. His body was found decapitated in a bog nearby after another bloody battle with the Turks, his head was never found.

I guess it goes to show you that evil comes in all forms, and many times the reality is even more horrifying and twisted than the fantasy. Often coming eerily closer to the fictional story than many would admit."

Gary had waited as patiently as possible while Susanne filled in the blanks and Wendy played professor, but time was slipping away. "Not meaning to interrupt this very morbid, all be it interesting, history lesson, but there's a missing boy at stake here and I need to find him."

Wendy's amusement subsided, she was ashamed of herself. Putting her natural curiosity back in check she got back on track. "I'm sorry, but that's what we're trying to warn you about Gary, my son and his friends; including Michael, found that spell book, this spell book," she held out the manuscript for him to see, "this is Saul's grimoire Gary and they all read from it. I called the parents of the other boys that were with him and they're all accounted for except Michael and Jeremy's upstairs in bed."

"What are you getting at? You think Michael's responsible, that he brought back this...creature from over a hundred years ago?"

Wendy looked to her husband and sighed, "I; we, think that he is the creature, Gary."

"And you think these other boys, his friends, cursed him?"

"Yes; and Jeremy too." She couldn't believe it, she was actually ashamed for her son, though common sense told her that it wasn't entirely his fault, it was only an accident.

Gary on the other hand was forced to take a step back. He hadn't considered the idea that the thing he was tracking was no more than a mere child and he still wasn't certain he bought into all this werewolf stuff yet either. Theories and questions tracked through his mind until all that was left was the unbelievable story he had just heard. He was reluctant to admit it, but what Susanne and Wendy had said seemed to strike a chord of truth and somehow made sense beyond all reason. His job was no longer just to find a missing boy and bring a vicious murderer to justice, but to track down and stop the once mythical beast know as a werewolf.

"Okay, okay, I give. I can't believe I'm saying this, but how do I stop this thing without killing the boy and what do his parents know about this?"

"As far as they know, their son has snuck out and is missing; they know nothing about the book or anything else. Same thing with the rest of the parents that I spoke to, so far no one knows a thing for once in this town. As for reversing the process... I don't know. There might be something in Saul's journal that I've either missed or haven't had a chance to translate yet. There may even be something in Susanne's grandmother's journal that could give me a clue, but as of right now I just don't know."

"Would my grandmother's spell book help?"

You could hear a pin drop, "You're grandmother had a spell book?" Wendy was literally on the edge of her seat with excitement.

"Well, it wasn't really my grandmother's; it actually belonged to her grandmother who was a fully trained, practicing gypsy. It was the only thing that she had kept from her past... for sentimental reasons. She had hoped to destroy it one day, but it, like so many other things, was packed away and eventually forgotten. You're welcome to it if you think it might help."

Wendy was on her feet, "Are you kidding? Yes, yes, of course! Where is it? It could be the missing link, the key to everything!"

"It's in a box in my attic, in all the excitement I forgot all about it. I could call Jonathan and have him bring it over."

"That would be wonderful, and have him bring the kids too. They can stay in the spare room where you can keep an eye on them. You must be near frantic with them at home knowing what's out there, regardless of Jonathan watching them. I know I would be."

"Thank you Wendy that would help." She was on her cell in an instant, "Jonathan, it's me, I need you to do something for me..."

## Chapter Twenty Eight

_And if any man think that he knoweth any thing, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know._

I Corinthians 8:2

"Gary, I'd like to volunteer to go with you to search for Michael."

"That's nice of you to offer Aaron, but it's not a good idea. This is still police business."

"Listen Gary, do you really want to call the station and have them send out backup for a werewolf, because that's exactly what you'd have to do, you sure can't send them out there blind. You'd be better off taking Jonathan and me along with you; at least we know what we're up against. We already know the situation and the danger. Just think of the paperwork alone. I have a point Gary and you know it."

Aaron could see the wheels in the policeman's head turning over and over, sharp and hard, and Gary was forced to admit, unfortunately, that he was right. There was no way to explain this to the other men and women on the force, let alone to his superiors. His back was to the proverbial wall, he had no choice.

"First, let's see what Jonathan has to say about this, it's not right to volunteer a man for something as risky as this without his consent. Then we need to decide what form of action we're gonna' have to take. Mrs. Kinsington?"

"Now you should know by now to call me Wendy, Gary. We've come too far to stand on formality, especially after tonight."

"Sorry, habit, considering the situation, you're right, Wendy. Could I use your phone, I can't seem to get a good enough signal on mine with this storm and I'd like to call the Lamb's and reassure them that we're on it."

"Of course, it's right here. Just press the talk button and you're good to go."

*****

Wendy engrossed herself in Tilly's diary while her husband made another pot of coffee for the groups inevitably long night, Officer Carpell informed the Lamb's he was forming a search party in the effort to safely find and return their son to them while Susanne Marshall stood vigil in front of the foyer window, impatiently awaiting the headlights bearing her precious gifts from God.

The humidity loomed outside as the tension mounted within. Each knew that within a matter of hours they could either lose their life or the life of their dearest loved one to a horrible monster, and for Susanne this truth tore her heart in two. She couldn't bear the thought of losing Jonathan again, possibly forever this time. Just as her mind and her emotions reached the threshold of uncontrollable, bringing hot, salty tears, headlights appeared in the distance, ebbing her panic if only for a little while. Before she realized it she had run to the door, flung it open, and leapt into her estranged husband's arms, then backed away embarrassed; attempting to regain her composure.

For a moment the two were swept away into their own little world, seeing only each other, knowing only each other, and liking it.

"It's good to see you too Sue, I'm glad you called."

"Thanks for bringing the boys. I've been so worried about them... and you."

"My pleasure, always, and here's the book you wanted. This is the one right?" His eyes sent her knees quaking and her heart pounding as loving thoughts and memories engulfed her warmly. Strange how even in the most horrific of circumstances one can forget the danger surrounding them when the heart is involved, but their romantic reverie was soon interrupted by three impatient adults and two very sleepy little boys.

"I'd better get these guys back to bed before they decide they can't sleep and want to stay up. Oh I almost forgot, Jonathan this is Wendy and Aaron Kinsington, this is my husb... this is Jonathan." She blushed and quickly changed the subject hoping no one had noticed her faux-pah.

"Wendy's the resident manuscript expert around here, you can give the book to her, she knows what to do. Where can I put these two?"

"Upstairs, second door on the left, it's all made up."

"Thanks." Susanne ushered her sleepwalkers up the stairs and lovingly tucked them in while the others skipped the pleasantries and got down to business. Wendy retreated once more to the living room in an effort to solve yet another mystery, and the men moved into the dining room to discuss the hunt. After filling Jonathan in, they put it to him, the ultimate question; was he in?

"We'd understand completely if you don't want to do this Jonathan, and if it wasn't for the sensitive nature of it all, plus the fact that I'd be treated as a nut case at the department, we wouldn't be asking you and this wouldn't be an issue. I wouldn't involve anyone at all outside the force if I could help it, but it seems I have no choice this time..."

Jonathan knew this moment would come, he thought of nothing else while sitting in his old living room. He had tried to read or watch television, but one thought continued to consume his mind. Was there really such a creature as a werewolf? If there was, was it possible that that's what was mutilating the residents of the town he had come to love so much, and why had he chosen to come back in the middle of all this? The last question he knew the answer to, but the others plagued him. What would he do? What could he do? It was while pondering these questions that he had made up his mind to help in any way possible, he couldn't allow this thing to endanger his wife and children and he couldn't morally remove them to his home while leaving so many others in the monster's murderous path.

"No, no, I understand; we're the only ones who know about this thing and we don't have time to convince anyone else right now. I'm in."

"Are you sure about this Jonathan, I mean absolutely sure? You can stay here and keep the women and your children safe if you'd rather."

"If you mean, do I understand that we may fail tonight and that one or all of us, including myself, may die a brutal death leaving my family alone, leaving this thing out there to continue hunting people down, possibly killing the rest of my loved ones since I wasn't here to protect them, than yes Gary, I'm sure."

"Hey guys? I'm sorry to bother you...." The three men looked up to see Wendy hovering in the dining room archway with Tilly's two tomes in hand.

"That's alright Wendy, we're just getting on the same page here, besides, we can't do much planning without knowing exactly what we're dealing with and what we need to do to beat it. What do we need, silver bullets?" It was said as a joke, but each man had the exact same thought in the back of his mind. It was a poor attempt at levity and his remark held more truth than he wanted to admit; there may be no way of saving Michael from himself.

"That's just a movie thing Gary, anyway not only would it kill the beast but Michael as well. Actually I've been reading about a talisman in both books and I think it may help. It sounds like a long shot and I don't put any stock in such things, or at least I didn't use to, but according to both of these the amulet that Tilly gave the original couple prevents a full transformation from man to beast and should partially reverse a full transformation. The body would mutate, but the mind and soul would remain the same as that of the host in question; almost like an infection. Michael would still be Michael, just in a different body. This would leave the creature vulnerable to sickness, starvation, dehydration, etc., that's probably what happened to the first creature. He was never actually 'released' from the curse, he simply died of thirst. If we could get that necklace and get it around Michael's neck that would buy us some more time until I could find a way to completely reverse the hex."

"Where's this talisman now?"

Susanne had come down to join the others when Gary's words caught her attention, "What's this about a talisman?"

"Wendy thinks that an amulet your grandmother had written about could help us, we're trying to track it down now."

"There was some sort of strange necklace in my granny's trunk along with the other stuff, I thought the book was the only thing she kept, but that might be it. It was quite unusual looking."

It seemed as if fate was finally smiling at them, giving them the brake they desperately needed.

"Finally something is going right. Now Wendy, are you sure this pendant thing is going to work?"

"Gary, right now, I'm not sure about much of anything. Are you? I mean I hope to God that I'm wrong about the whole thing. Werewolves, hexes, spell books, witchcraft, talismans... it's crazy, it's all completely insane, but Gary, for the life of me I see no other answer. My rational line of reasoning went out the window hours ago, right now I'm going one step at a time and so far the next step seems to be that talisman and please don't ask me how it works because I'm just as thrown by all of this as you all are."

Wendy's stress and frustration was seeping through. She dealt with facts, truths, science, and physical evidence; this was new and frightening territory for her. Just because she could read the words locked away in the withering pages of the three mysterious books did not mean that she could give them the answers they were seeking. She understood, but their questioning eyes looking to her wore at her mind, body, and soul. What if she was wrong? It made sense in a freaky, Twilight Zone sort of way. Wasn't it Sherlock Holmes that once said, 'Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth'? Then again what does he know, he's just a character in a book; a figment of someone's imagination.

"I'm sorry Wendy, I didn't realize the pressure we must be putting on you. You can only translate the words, not the truth behind them." Quick to change the subject and the mood, Gary pressed on to more immediate and certainly urgent matters. "So we go back to the attic; it sounds like as good a place to start as any."

"Yeah, there could be a lot worse places we'd have to look."

"We may have to yet Aaron, I don't think our friend out there will just walk up to us and say, 'Hello, is there something I can do for you gentleman?'" Despite himself, Aaron couldn't help chuckling at Jonathan. This guy was alright.

"Speaking of which, Wendy, any idea where we might find this thing?"

"I don't think you're going to have to worry about that Gary, it'll probably find you." A chill charged down the men's spines leaving them sullen and silent. Wendy was frighteningly right. They all knew what was ahead of them and what they had to do, and there was no time to waste.

"What if we just wait; hold out until sunrise? No one should be out, regardless of the curfew; they're all too scared and with good reason. This beast appears to only attack those who are outside of their homes, leaving the citizens safe. By morning Michael should be back to normal, making him harmless to us and everyone else, then we'd have no problem with this talisman thing. That would also give you more time, Wendy, to study those manuscripts, especially if that medallion doesn't work. Right?"

Wendy hated being the bearer of bad news; again, "Sorry Gary, but it doesn't work that way."

"Why, what do you mean?" Susanne thought Gary's idea made perfect sense, especially if it kept Jonathan out of danger.

"You're thinking movies again. Even though we've been calling this thing a werewolf, technically it isn't, not actually anyway, at least not according to myth and legend." Wendy could see she had lost them again.

"According to legend a person must either be bitten by a werewolf or have an exchange of blood with one, but Michael wasn't bitten, there's no pack of werewolves running up the east coast. Plain and simply, Michael was cursed or more accurately, possessed. Anyone he bites won't become another werewolf either, it's just him."

"But that doesn't explain why my plan won't work."

"Well, keep in mind that he's not an actual 'werewolf'."

"Right."

"According to the research that I've been able to do so far, the transformation from man, or person, to beast actually takes place during the hosts sleep cycle." She began flipping through her notes, instinctively tucking her hair behind her ears, "and continues until 'the beast inside has been fulfilled', or in other words; it lasts until the demon inside Michael has been appeased or satisfied."

"You mean kills someone?" Gary was beginning to get the idea.

"Or something, yes. Full moons, sunsets, and sunrises has little or nothing to do with it, it's just coincidence that the attacks happen at night considering that's when most people go to sleep. It makes sense when you think about it though. I mean when you drift, or fall as Aaron does, into R.E.M. sleep your conscious mind is no longer in control leaving you vulnerable to your unconscious mind."

"Or something worse."

"There is one thing about the moon though."

"And that is?" It was like a tennis match between Wendy and Gary was taking place in their dining room.

"It seems that although the moon doesn't directly cause the transformation, it can affect it somewhat."

"Meaning?"

"I think Gary wants you to get to the point, Hun." This wasn't the first time Aaron had had to bring Wendy's pot to a boil and it wouldn't be the last. He couldn't tell if it was innocent or intentional, but his wife had a habit of drawing things out and leaving people in suspense. Of course there was a time and a place for everything... and now wasn't it.

"Sorry Gary, it appears that a full moon has enough influence to allow the spirit to take control of its host at any time depending on the will power of the person it indwells. A weak willed or someone prone to evil behavior would be more easily manipulated than someone with a strong moral core who would be more likely to hold out until they fell asleep. The moon's phases can and are responsible for everything from the ebb and flow of the tides, to human behavior, even childbirth. There's a lot we don't know."

"My grandmother used to say that about babies and the full moon. She even planned my mom's delivery by it. She told her to make sure she had everything ready by the full moon. I even kept an eye on it when I was pregnant with each of my boys."

"Lycanthropes have been using the lunar cycles in their rituals for centuries." Wendy didn't mean to ignore Susanne, once she got on her track it was full steam ahead.

"Lycan whats?"

"It means werewolf Gary."

"I see, well I think that's enough of a lesson; unless there's something you feel we should know."

"Not yet. I'll know a lot more when I have a chance to do some work translating the other books Susanne brought me."

"Fine, I don't mean to come across so harsh, but the later it gets the more likely it is that this thing has killed again." He pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet, knowing that if he didn't set out on this nightmarish quest soon his courage would melt away to reveal a very confused, very scared man with a badge; whose life had been flipped upside down. He tried to use his anger, the hatred and rage that filled his heart when he thought of Frank's tattered remains, and Harold's arrogant impudence, but he feared giving in to these same fiery feelings even more. He needed a level head, a clear head, unpolluted by volatile emotions that could cause more damage. You don't punish your children in anger and you don't track down a killing machine without getting yourself or someone else caught in it if you're blinded by rage, and though it was easier for Gary to think of the beast as a monster; a thing, instead of one of the innocent citizens he swore to protect, he fought to remember that there was a boy inside, that desperately needed his help.

"We need to go. If this talisman is our only lead right now then we'll just have to deal with it; take it one step at a time. Step one: find it. Step two: track down... Michael, after that...."

The other men rose when Gary did, feeling their own nerve waning with the hour.

"As soon as you find a reversal, or cure, or a way to safely capture this thing call me or Aaron. We can't afford to be in the dark long." One more idea came to him. Lowering his voice he made one more attempt at a compromise.

"Wendy?"

"Yes?"

"What if we used an animal?"

"What do you mean? As bait?"

"Well yeah, sort of, but mostly I was thinking that if, as you said, he'd transform back after his blood lust has been filled, we could sort of sacrifice a cow or something. Michael would turn back to normal giving us a chance to safely put that thing around his neck and get him somewhere safe; for everyone. Maybe sedate him or something until he could be cured."

Wendy had only to give him that look for him to know he had missed the mark yet again. "I get it, it won't work. You know Wendy you're beginning to make me feel like an idiot."

"I'm so sorry Gary," she was beginning to feel like 'sorry' was the only word in her vocabulary, "your idea was a really good one and it probably would have worked if it wasn't..."

"Wasn't what? It's okay Wendy. I'm sorry too. I'm just frustrated, but I'd rather know where my thinking went wrong. I won't have you out there with me to bounce ideas off of and the sooner I get my mind in the right gear the better." After all it was her husband that would be right along there with him.

"Right." She understood perfectly, "Well, like I said, it was a good idea."

"But?"

"Yeah, that but, that one word changes everything doesn't it?" she was stalling again; giving grim news was not her forte. "It wouldn't be enough. This thing has already had a taste of what it's like to kill a man and it won't be satisfied with one cow or two dozen cows. In fact... it probably won't be satisfied with just one... or two people either." She held his gaze, the warning was accepted and understood, "and the last thing you want to do is sedate Michael that may give the demon total control." It was time to go.

"Okay guys, are we ready?"

Aaron was on auto mode. Despite the hot summer night he grabbed a light weight jacket and retrieved his phone and keys from the foyer catch all table, but when he held his wife in his arms for possibly the last time his quick little parting hug turned into the longest embrace of his life. There was so much to say and no time to say it, and though Gary and Jonathan had respectfully retreated to the doorway in a distracted conversation, it was hard to have a tender moment with an audience. All he could bring himself to say was, "You and Jeremy are the best thing in my life, you know that, right?"

Wendy could only smile and nod at first before finally finding her missing voice, "I'll get to work right away. I won't let you down." She couldn't bring herself to say good bye. If she fell apart now she might never pick herself back up and their lives lay in her hands. She had to be strong, now more than ever.

Aaron embraced her again, holding on to the moment for as long as he could before turning to face his fate and possibly his doom. Wendy shed not one solitary tear; for her strength was his and vice versa, but they fell heavily in her heart.

This was too much for Susanne, who up until that moment had been politely waiting at the top of the stairs having checked on her boys. She dashed down the steps, taking them two at a time and flung herself into Jonathan's arms; this time not backing away no matter who was looking. Her tears flowed as her thoughts and feelings poured from her.

"Please, Jonathan, please... please promise me you'll come back. You have to promise to come back to me, to the boys. I can't lose you now; I've lost too many years with you already. I know this is the wrong time for this, but I love you and I can't have you going out that door not knowing that." Her words had become strained between her sobs.

Jonathan smiled and placed a finger to her quivering lips, then took her face in his hand. He wasn't the suavest of men, but she had done the hard part. He stared deep into her eyes, so deep she knew he could see into her soul.

"Sshhh... it'll be alright Sue. I love you and I'm coming back; to you and our boys. Our story's not done yet. I promise." With that he kissed her so gently yet so passionately she went weak, but he held her firm. It was their moment now and the others respected that.

As Jonathan embraced her for the first time in years he whispered softly, "Take care of our boys my love." With that the farewells were complete and the three men closed the door behind them and walked out into the misting rain; to find a monster and free a boy.

## Chapter Twenty Nine

_Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do.... Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into Hell,.... Fear him._

Luke 12:4-5

Susanne set up watch in the rocker by the bay window, a cup of coffee in her hand, and a sinking feeling in her stomach. This whole thing was crazy. Wendy on the other hand had abandoned all her own fears, anxiety, and concerns to dive into Tilly's tome of incantations. Her emotions shut down and her game face on, the lives of her friends, her family, and the town lay in her hands; she had no time for anything but work.

"Wendy... Wendy?" Wendy had no clue how long Susanne had been standing by her, politely attempting to catch her attention, but nearly an hour had slipped by since the guys had vanished into the night.

"Huh? What? Oh, Susanne. I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

"No, no, everything's alright; quiet in fact. A little too quiet actually." She felt a little sheepish all of a sudden, almost like the little girl in her, who shook with fright whenever it thundered, was alive again with the anticipation of a storm on the horizon.

"I'm sorry Susanne, here I am buried in work, not paying a bit of mind to you, and you must be going out of yours."

"Kind of."

"Would you like to watch TV or something?"

"Thanks, but I'm afraid it wouldn't help. I couldn't concentrate on it."

"How about something to eat or maybe some more coffee?"

"I'd better not, if I'm this wired now after only one cup I can't imagine what I'd be like with another shot of caffeine and I don't think I want to."

"True and I don't have any more decaf. Hmm... I know how about some tea, it has less caffeine? Chamomile always settles my nerves, and if you don't like chamomile I have other kinds."

Susanne accepted the invitation gladly, it may have been the middle of summer, but the night had grown cool and damp. The two made some polite chit chat, neither wanting to speak about their men or their mission, but the elephant would not be ignored for long once they were back in the living room.

"You know, you're lucky you got my attention at all. Usually it takes an act of God to get my attention once I get into something. Especially something as interesting as this."

"How are things going with that anyway?"

"Actually, I think I may be getting somewhere here."

"Really? Did any of my grandmother's books help?"

"Oh yes, thank you very much for letting me use them."

"Well, I wish I could say it was my pleasure but..."

"Tell me about it."

"I'll let you get back to work... Wendy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I could take a look at that spell book you were talking about? I mean if it's too delicate or whatever I'd understand. I just thought that it would be something I could do that would keep my mind busy. Give me a sense that I'm helping in some sort of way. Sound funny?"

"Not at all. If I didn't have this I'd probably be going out of my mind too."

"It isn't too delicate is it? I mean I won't hurt it by touching it will I?"

"Well, we both should be wearing gloves so that the acid on our skin doesn't eat away at the paper and cover, but with as much trouble as that thing has caused already I have no qualms about going gloveless."

Susanne snickered despite herself. She couldn't imagine feeling levity at a time like this, but it was a welcome relief from the stress that threatened to crush her.

"It's written in an unusual Latin dialect. Do you know any Latin?"

"Spanish and Italian, but no, no Latin. It's just something to distract me."

Wendy smiled with more compassion than she thought she could have had at that moment and reached into her pile of work on the coffee table handing a priceless piece of history over to a friend she would have for life. "Here you go Sue, enjoy."

Wendy was right. The words were far beyond her comprehension, only a word here and there could Susanne make out at all, but still somehow the writing, the symbols, even the paper and ink itself enticed her almost hypnotically. There was something about those pages, it was almost as if... they kind of felt... well..., "Warm?"

## Chapter Thirty

_For thou hast trusted... thy wisdom and thy knowledge,... Therefore shall evil come upon thee; thou shalt not know from whence it riseth: and mischief shall fall upon thee; thou shalt not be able to put it off: and desolation shall come upon thee suddenly, which thou shalt not know._

Isaiah 47:10-11

The ride back to Susanne Marshall's was quiet and ominous. The only sound came from the rain pattering on the car and the rhythmic beat of the wipers which heightened their sense of doom. Gary drove cautiously through the streets of town, each unconsciously searching the darkness for any sign of Michael or the monster he may have become.

When the cruiser slowed to a halt in front of the Marshall family home, the men strained their eyes for any sign of movement, but the falling drizzle worked as a perfect cover for anyone; or anything, that may be lurking just beyond the sedan. The windows began to steam, blinding them entirely to the outside world. It was now or never. Jonathan fumbled with his keys in the dark, feeling for the one that would let them inside the home, inside safety. When he had it, Gary cautiously stepped from the vehicle and unsnapped his holster, using every sense God had given him to assess the area; he was still an officer and responsible for the others. It took them less than a minute to get into the house and bolt the door behind them, a lock that would get continual use from that day on. The house was comfortable and inviting, but the three tread as though death could be around the next corner.

"I know the chest Sue was talking about. You can just wait down here, I shouldn't be long."

"I respect that this was your home, Jonathan, but I'm the one with the badge and the gun. We stay together. If that talisman, or whatever it is, is as powerful as Wendy says it is than we may not be the only one after it."

"Good point Gary, lead the way."

One by one, with Gary in the lead, they made their way to the attic, each one peering over their shoulders as if the devil was on their heels. Gary put his hand to the door handle leading to the third floor attic room; and froze. There was more than just the sound of the falling rain coming from the other side, and shadows danced in the light from under the door. Something was in the attic, and it hadn't been invited. Gary put a finger to his lips,

"Shhh..., stay here." It was crunch time; does he shoot the monster that's really a boy? Could he avoid it? Would a leg shot have any effect on a creature from the bowels of Hell? He held his breath as he turned the handle, trying desperately not to make a sound. Did it know they were there, hiding, lying in wait, crouched for an attack? Or was it distracted by its own search for the mysterious medallion?

Few could imagine how fiercely the heart thundered in the breast of an officer who had never faced more than the occasional drunken brawl, or B & E, let alone an ancient evil of this magnitude. Gary lunged into the home's apex, swinging his weapon from corner to corner, side to side, up and down, expecting anything and everything, but what he got.... A lone, naked, light bulb, swaying in the breeze from the recently broken window. This time there had been no monster in the closet.

"Okay Jonathan, all clear, but it looks like Susie'll have you puttin' in a new window when all this is over. Let's get what we came here for and get moving."

Jonathan wasted little time locating the trunk; he knew what he was after, but.... He dug through the cedar time capsule, unearthing decades of dust and history until his fingers came upon a small metallic disc strung with a faded leather band. His digits tingled as he held the talisman in his hands, chills raced up his arm and exploded throughout his whole body, each hair standing on end. What was this thing and who made it, but more importantly; just what side were the mysterious makers on?

"Everything alright in there Jonathan?" Gary's question broke through the moment, bringing him upright and to the door where they were waiting.

"Here you go. It's all yours." There was something in Jonathan's voice that unnerved him. Was it the lightness in a serious situation, uneasiness, or was his own nerves reading too much into things. Gary sighed, either way he had possession of the fated necklace, now what?

*****

"Any ideas gentlemen?" The three seekers were gathered in the living room staring at the metallic trinket that would supposedly somehow save them.

"Well, we can't just go running out into the night like Batman and Robin."

"True, but we've come this far; we can't just sit here either. From what your wife said this thing could keep control of Michael for days, killing dozens in its wake until it's satisfied."

"Yeah, but on the other hand, I can't help feeling unprepared for all of this. Maybe Jonathan and I should have guns too?"

"I don't think so. Not to impugn either one of your abilities, but I'm trained to use my weapon in extremely delicate and dangerous circumstances and even I'm having a difficult time reminding myself that there's a little boy trapped inside this monster and I haven't been brought face to face with it yet. So nothin' doin'."

"What about tranquilizer darts or stun guns?"

"You know, that's not a bad idea. In fact, that may be the only way to get this thing around its neck. Can you use a stun gun, Jonathan?"

Jonathan barely heard Aaron and Gary's conversation over the growing concern in his gut.

"You hoo,... Jonathan?"

"What... a stun gun... yeah I think so. I've done my fair share of hunting I guess."

Now Gary knew something was up. "Are you alright Jonathan, you've been acting strange ever since the attic? Is something wrong?"

Jonathan was beginning to feel more and more like things were about to go seriously wrong, but then again, they were talking about hunting down a vicious creature from Hell, so.... "Just nerves I guess... I mean werewolves, talismans, spells. Not your everyday, normal, occurrence." That was enough to settle the concerns of the two sitting across from him, but not his own.

"We'll stop by the station and pick up a couple of stun guns... so where to from there? Any idea where this thing might show up?"

"How about the caves?"

"What caves, Aaron?"

"Well, Jeremy said that he and his friends found that book in one of the caves down by the lake."

"Yeah, I see where you're going. That's where the car was found with that poor couple in it too. Maybe it's drawn to that area. It sounds like a good place to start."

"Well, wherever we go we ought to take something to tie it... I mean him, up with when we do get him. Sue should have something in the garage. Next question is what are we going to do with him until Mrs.... Wendy finds that reversal spell," cold shivers and a nagging voice sickened him once again, "it may be a while?"

"I've been thinking about that. There's a holding cell for emergencies, sort of a solitary confinement type deal for extremely dangerous individuals; if this doesn't qualify I don't know what does."

"What about witnesses?"

"Aaron, if Wendy doesn't have a cure by the time people start poking around, we're gonna need a few witnesses to reassure ourselves that we're not insane. If that's all gentlemen, I think we have a plan."

## Chapter Thirty One

_For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow._

Ecclesiastes 1:18

"What was that?"

"These pages... they actually feel warm."

"Really? I hadn't noticed, of course I don't notice much when I'm translating. I wouldn't even have heard you if it hadn't been for me stopping for coffee. You want some?"

"No thanks. Tell me about this book."

"What would you like to know?"

"Well, these pages, they're so thick and the ink it's not black, it's brown."

"Yeah, that. Well even though the journal may have been used as late as the nineteenth century, the creator actually used techniques from as far back as 1100 A.D., and earlier. The paper had to be extra thick to last and was usually made of either cloth like plant fibers or treated animal skin.

As for the ink, that's slightly more morbid. The reason why it's brown and not blue or black is because it's not really ink at all... it's blood."

"Blood? As in blood, blood?"

"Yup, but if you think that's sick the cover and binding's made of flesh."

"Please say you mean pig skin, football kind of flesh?"

"I wish. I'd need to take it back to the museum's lab to be sure, but from the way that thing reads I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it turned out to be human, and I'd be willing to lay money on it that the person that made it killed whoever donated that pound of flesh himself. For the cover and the pages."

Susanne was now thoroughly disgusted and twice as scared as she was before, which she hadn't thought possible. What kind of monster would bind a book in human skin then write its words with blood? She knew more than she had wanted to, but she still had to know one more thing, "Wendy, what's the story with this page that's burned?"

"Burned?" Her stomach somersaulted and a roller coaster looped in her bowels. How could she miss something like that?

"What page?"

"This one here that was stuck in between the last couple of pages."

Wendy snatched the book from Susanne's hands and there it was; a page she had missed, a page unlike all the others. Thick, yellow, and brittle with a deep soot encrusted around each letter, and this time she felt that strange sensation of warmth, an unearthly heat that radiated from the page itself as her hand hovered centimeters above it. She gently caressed a corner of the peculiar parchment, trying to smudge the soot testing its identity, but the residue would not budge. It was as if the carbon was a part of the page itself as were the words entombed within it, but that was impossible; wasn't it? She pulled the paper as close to her glasses as she dared, but still the proof was before her eyes and growing in mystery.

Next were the words, black as coal and rough, yet uniform and precise. They didn't appear to be written in ink. Point of fact, they didn't appear to be written at all, but, each letter of every word had been burnt into the aging parchment and the acrid stench of sulfur clung to it, wafting to her drawn up nose, and stinging her nasal passages.

She was entranced, hooked, addicted; her burning sinuses didn't matter. Her mind raced and whirled into action as she reached for a fresh notebook and her previous notes then began to decipher the burned message; and the burning question.

Susanne on the other hand looked on with trepidation and awe. Back and forth Wendy went, flipping pages, scribbling more lines, scratching out errors, checking, and rechecking, all in a whirlwind of excitement and panic. Until finally, at the height of it all, flinging the once delicately handled tome to the floor along with all her precious work and raced franticly out of the room, bounding for the stairs; taking them two at a time.

Curious and concerned, Susanne picked up the near illegible notes and trembled as she read the last scrawled sentence that Wendy Kinsington had written, "Oh dear God no!"

## Chapter Thirty Two

_And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free._

John 8:32

"It's just over this ridge here." The hunter's flashlight beams danced in the night and their feet slipped again and again on the wet, mossy, rocks as the rain continued to drizzle. Their hearts pounded like kettle drums in their chests, not just from physical exertion, but from the fear of what lay ahead of them. Were they ready; would this work, could they succeed, would they survive? Insurmountable concerns ran rampart through each man's mind; and the trek from Deer Lake's scenic point to the cave seemed nearly instantaneous, but as the three ascended the rocky slope a soft murmur interrupted their thought train of doubt.

"Shhh... do you hear that?" said Aaron. The men froze, standing perfectly still, straining in the night to hear over the gentle pattering of the rain on the leaves.

"There it is again." Over and over they heard the soft cries drifting down from above. Gary, Aaron, and Jonathan followed the painful, pitiful wails to the mouth of the cavern, then down, deeper and deeper into its bowels, until they found the frantic teen huddled in the furthest depths of the inner chamber. All Gary could see as he passed his light over the boy was a muddy mass cringing in the dirt.

"Is it Michael?"

"I can't tell, hold on Aaron, but be ready just in case and keep an eye out." Gary changed his tone, giving his full attention to the boy in question, trusting the others for his safety. He scanned the inner sanctum with his light not wanting any surprises.

"It's alright son, we're not here to hurt you, and you're not in any trouble. I'm officer Carpell, Gary Carpell, I have Aaron Kinsington, Jeremy's dad, and Jonathan Bassiter here with me. We're here to help you, okay? Are you Michael Lamb? Are you hurt? Can you hear me?" Gary's questions went unanswered with nothing more than the same sad cries that had drawn them there. "He's not responding, he appears to be traumatized. We'll need to go in and retrieve him."

"I'll do it, I'll go."

"Thanks for volunteering Jonathan, but you both have too broad of shoulders to fit through that hole." Gary removed his utility belt and handed it off, sliding his torso through the crevice. He laid his flashlight on the ground shining in the boy's direction, then cautiously walked towards him, speaking gently with each step calling back, "It's him, it's Michael!" but as soon as he crouched down and touched Michael's mud encrusted arm the boy's cries turned to the ear splitting shrieks of an Irish banshee.

"Michael it's alright, it's Officer Carpell... Michael... Michael can you hear me?" Michael's screams reached heights that threatened the very stability of the cave before Gary's efforts could penetrate the poor boy's fractured psyche, calming him enough to finally allow him to lead the teen from his cell and retrieve his belongings.

"God help me. God help me. God help me." was all that passed Michael's cracked lips.

In their haste to secure Michael's safely no one had noticed the mutilated remains of the once snobbish, but now rotting corpse of Dr. Harold Pintac, but not Michael, his eyes landed right on the shadowy outline of Harold's shredded body and it sent him into another uncontrollable panic. He screeched and wailed as he desperately tried to slip back through the small hole he'd just been pulled from.

Jonathan and Aaron both rushed to help control a violent Michael, but suddenly Aaron jumped and howled adding to the chaos and noise.

"What is it?!"

"Nothing, nothing Gary. I'm alright. It's just my phone." Aaron scrounged in his pants for his cell then checked the number and saw it was Wendy, "Hello?"

"Aaron, it's me, listen...**** it's **** not **** Jeremy **** do you hear **** are **** there ****."

"Wendy, calm down. I can't... I can't hear you. The signal's going and the boy's... Wendy, we found Michael, can you hear me? We found him, Hun. Did you find a counter spell?"

"But **** werewolf **** it's ****!"

"What? What... Wendy... I can't hear you."

"Susanne found this page... **** I missed. I didn't see it! I **** see it Aaron! I hadn't finished ****!"

"Wendy, what are you talking about? You didn't finish what?"

"The page **** Saul didn't watch the murders **** dreamt them, so I reread **** what Jeremy read **** warning! He's not **** room, Jeremy's gone!"

Aaron began to shake as an earth shattering clap of thunder, with a streak of blue lightning erupted in the sky, revealing more than the storm. Everyone's attention turned to Harold's now noticeable body and the thing slinking beside it. A deep growl emanated from the beast and a scream escaped the boy, breaking free of Gary's grip he ran deep into the darkness.

Chaos, Aaron dropped his phone, and both Gary and Jonathan dropped their flashlights, beams of light bounced around the rocky room. Jonathan hit the ground, groping for his torch and Gary grabbed for his gun, but found the talisman instead.

"Shock him Aaron!"

*****

Jonathan felt useless and stupid fumbling in the dust for the light he had dropped and Gary's had rolled to the far end of the cave worthless to him in the near pitch black, Aaron's at least illuminated the coiled monster they were in search of, but found way too early. He had to help, to do his part, when his hand landed on the cold aluminum neck of his flashlight; redemption. A flashlight with a busted bulb; ruin. All he could do now was helplessly watch the standoff unfolding a few yards away, then he remembered Michael; terrified and alone somewhere in the dark. He prayed he was more successful with this search than he was the last one, leaving the others to a very large issue of their own.

*****

Aaron grabbed his stun gun and fired at the monster, still blessedly unaware, but the torrents of electricity had little effect. The thing only peered down at the electrodes attached to its fur, then looked to the man holding the pathetic weapon. The only evidence the device was working was the foul smell of burning fur, but it did accomplish one thing; it distracted it.

Before the creature could notice, Gary had crept up behind it, flinging the medallion over its head and franticly knotting the leather strap then dodging the oncoming onslaught. He danced backwards as quick as his feet could carry him, reaching for his gun, but with the beast between him and the light he failed to see the splayed remains of Harold Pintac and tripped. In one great motion he plummeted backwards, whipping his pistol from its holster, aiming it before him, then landed with a scuffled, painful thud, his back to the rocky wall, and a click of the safety.

The beast twisted towards its assailant, ripping the taser controls from Aaron's hand, but Gary had escaped from its monstrous reach only seconds before.

There it was, the demon child, seeing only its outline in the silvery glow of Aaron's flashlight, poised to shoot at the shadowy mass, but instead Gary paused. Common sense and training took over. Words and phrases like, ricochet, ear splitting, reverb, and most importantly; human, stayed his finger; but for how long?

Gary and Aaron both held their breath in anticipation, but by grace or fate they couldn't see all that happened next. Poised and calculating, the beast stared at the flesh that was Officer Carpell, studying him intently before glancing down at the graven image resting on its furry chest... and understood.

*****

Aaron was frozen, desperately trying not to shake, holding the light on the creature in front of him as steady as possible. Was this what Michael had become, was this what he'd turned into, but that was impossible. Michael had still been screaming in Gary's grip when they first saw this thing rising in the dark. It couldn't be him, so why didn't Gary shoot? If it's not Michael who could it be... and then the dots connected.

*****

The demon curled its leathery lips into the twisted, malevolent smile of pure evil. 'So that is why the human meat did not shoot. It thought it had stopped him. It thought it had won. How amusing. I'll crush that light; the gun will be of little consequence then. This will be such fun, but first...' In a show of both strength and dominance, the beast slowly raised its arm and wrapped its claws around the leather straps, yanking the trinket from around its neck with one great jerk, then held it into the beam of light that its silhouette; and their failure, could be seen by all. It laughed at the pathetic attempt of these humans to manipulate its might, then flung the useless relic into the darkness striking the stone wall beyond just inches from Michael's terrified face.

Michael had witnessed the whole scene from his hiding place in the black abyss. Unable to move, to cry, even to blink. He could only look on in disgusted horror, broken and empty, and then he saw it, he saw the necklace dangling in the beam of Aaron's flashlight and knew what the men were trying to do, and what he must do. Michael groped for the pendant that had nearly hit him and found what he needed, than began to pray, "God give me courage and strength help me to succeed, and if I should die I give my life to you now." and then....

*****

"Jeremy?" The name slipped out, and before he knew it, Aaron, was face to face with the demonic creature that was his son. He stared deep into its yellow, black eyes, desperate to recognize any sign of his child's existence, but all he saw was a monster. No evidence of his boy was anywhere to be had within its matted fur and putrid breath, but in his heart, Aaron knew that it was true; this was his Jeremy; his son, his boy.

There they stood; mortal and monster, father and son, drinking each other in. Sadness overwhelmed him, he was no longer afraid of the beast, but for his child trapped deep inside it. Almost unconsciously, Aaron's hand began to stretch closer and closer to the demon's weathered face. Desperately reaching out to his son, until he was inches from its blood stained teeth when a cry pierced the silent doom. Michael had sprinted from his sanctuary, vaulting from a boulder onto the back of the beast holding on as best he could with one hand, strapping the hidden treasure he had so tightly held onto, around the massive neck of his best friend.

The creature began flailing in its rage, sinking its claws into Michael's shoulder, flinging him across the cave like a rag doll into Aaron's chest, sending them both tumbling in the dust. The thing fell to the ground, writhing as if in great agony. Howls and cries erupted throughout the cave, before morphing to screams of unearthly torment unlike any of them had ever heard before, then bursting forth into the night. Parents and children throughout town shivered in their beds.

## Chapter Thirty Three

_There is a way which seemeth right unto man, but the end there of are the ways of death._

Proverbs 14:12

From the moment Wendy stood by Jeremy's broken door, staring into his empty room, confusion and panic like she never knew before consumed her entire being. She stood there, frozen, nearly catatonic, as the minutes ticked by; her child was gone. It wasn't until a delicate hand gently squeezed her shoulder that she finally returned to this plane, turning to face a concerned Susanne, seeing such compassion in her new friend; Wendy fell into her arms, shaking uncontrollably.

"He's gone Sue... he's gone." Tears streamed down her face and sobs choked her words. The thought of her son, her only child, the creature her husband was hunting nearly paralyzed her. What if they shot him, Aaron had to know, she had to stop him, to save her baby.

Wendy broke from Susanne's comforting embrace and tore down the stairs as quickly as she had raced up them, franticly searching for the phone.

"Wendy, what are you doing?" Susanne had checked on her own two boys, thankful for their safety, then followed after Wendy.

"I have to call Aaron. I have to tell him... to warn him... stop him... Jeremy!"

"Wendy, listen to me. I can't begin to imagine how hard this has to be for you and I don't blame you for any of the feelings you're having even if you end up hating me for what I'm about to say, but you can't call Aaron."

"WHAT? Are you crazy?"

"Wendy wait, listen. Do you have a reversal spell?" Silence. "Well do you?"

Wendy dropped her head, staring at the floor feeling like a failure.

"Then how is telling him going to help?"

"But it's our son!"

"I know that, but telling Aaron that it's his son out there isn't going to help matters will it? He'll be so concerned and angry and everything else that he won't be able to concentrate on what they went out there to do, possibly getting himself, your son, and everyone else with him hurt or killed. Now is that what you want?"

"What do you care about my child, yours are safe and sound upstairs where mine should be and the only man out there you care about is Jonathan." Wendy snapped back at her, tears still streaming down her face.

"Do you really think that? Really? Or is that the fear and anger talking. Look Wendy, face facts, the truth is that you're the only hope your son has and you're no good to him, or anyone else like this, you still have a job to do so I suggest we work together and bring all our guys home safe and sound." Susanne stared at her, holding her gaze and her shoulders until she could feel the tension ease in Wendy's body. "Alright, let's get back to work."

"No offense Sue, but how can you help?" Defeated and worn Wendy wiped away her tears.

"I may not know Latin, but if you write down a few key words to look for I can be searching while you're translating."

"That's a good idea, it might just work," she sniffled, "and Sue...thank you."

"You're welcome."

The two women were like machines. Back and forth, searching, finding, translating, and searching again and before they knew it they had the answer they were looking for. Only then did she make the much anticipated, yet dreaded call to her husband, little did she know how bad and yet how perfect her timing really was. The signal to Aaron's phone was worse than terrible and it took three tries before she got past his voice mail and reached him, but the challenges only continued. The screams and echoes that reached Wendy's ears chilled her blood, but she couldn't let that distract her. She ignored the signal losses and broken screams and dove right in, purging her well of info, scared that if she stopped even once and allowed what was, could be, may be happening on the other end of the phone to reach her mind she would lose her resolve and fall to pieces, unable to finish, unable to help those she knew and those she loved. Until the crash that is. It was then she noticed the silence. Not the empty silence of being disconnected, but the haunting kind of silence. All she could do was listen intently and pray.

It seemed like an eternity before she heard her husband pick up the phone and was assured he at least was still alive, but new screams had erupted from the beast stopping her heart.

"Aaron, are you there? Are you alright? What's going on? Is Jeremy... did you find him... is he...?"

"Wendy, are you there?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm here! What's going on?"

"Did you find it? Do you have a cure?"

"Yes, we found it. I have it here. Did you find him?"

"Good, bring it. We're at the caves where the boys found that book. Do you know where I'm talking about? Down by the lake near Scenic Point?"

"Yeah, I believe so. Aaron, what about Jeremy?"

"Get here as soon as you can Hun, we have him, we have our son." Wendy understood, her fear was confirmed. No time for 'good bye's or 'I love you,' Wendy was off the phone and scrambling for her keys.

"The house is yours tonight, stay here and keep your boys safe. I'll call you as soon as I can."

Susanne hugged her friend, "Be careful."

"Of course." With that she was out the door and on her way.

*****

Wendy threw the book, her notes, and her pocketbook into the passenger seat, buckled her seat belt, and squealed tires out of the drive. Swerving and speeding the entire way, she ran red lights and stops signs down the deserted streets to Scenic Point only a few short miles from their home. The tires on her SUV dug into the gravel as she slammed on the brakes and thrust the vehicle in park. She fumbled for a flashlight, grabbed the book and her notes, then headed to the caves and what awaited her there.

The cries of her demon filled child led her straight through the pouring rain and over the rocks. With skinned knees and shaking hands she arrived to see her precious gift from God lying on the sandy ground, writhing in agony, mutated beyond her recognition and gasped.

"Wendy, Wendy the reversal."

Jonathan looked over to see her moving towards Jeremy and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away from the beast that was her son.

"Jeremy..." She fought against his grip, she wanted to comfort her child no matter what he looked like, but her husband's words reached her.

"Wendy, if you want to save our son you need to do the reversal. Only you can do it." Aaron went to her and took her in his arms, giving her all the strength he could until she was ready.

Her body trembled inside and out and her hands shook so violently that she had trouble reading her own notes. Her voice quivered as she began to speak; terrified that she would fumble so severely she'd lose her son forever. Yet she pressed on, reciting the words penned ages ago by a murderous madman bent on destruction.

The disabled creature thrashed wildly wailing so loudly, the residents of Epson shuddered in the night and outside the storm intensified. Lightning flashed and thunder clashed continuously, shaking the very ground as the drizzle grew into torrents of fat, cold, drops, blinding any would be drivers, all continuing long past Wendy's final resonance.

A blinding light, a sudden silence, anything... anything, but nothing, nothing is what they got.

"Is that it?" Everyone was thinking it, but Gary said it.

"What's going on? What's supposed to happen?"

"I don't understand, Aaron? I translated the spell three times just to be sure. This has to be it!"

"Try it again, Hun."

Again they tried. Wendy raised her voice as loud as she dared, with more confidence and power,... still nothing. Again and again they tried, in English and in the strange Latin dialect of a lunatic, each time bringing no great force, no change, no reaction at all, they had failed.

Wendy, exhausted and empty, broke down in her husband's arms, unable to go on and even he could not stanch the flow of tears. Gary, Jonathan, and Michael could only stand in the dim light looking at each other, and the ground. No one knowing what to say or do to ease the Kinsingtons' pain.

"What's that?" Michael's voice, though small and weak, still resounded loudly within the confines of the rocky walls, "Do you hear that? Shh... listen... there, there it is again."

The grieving couple was too distraught to notice what both Jonathan and Gary now heard too.

"Get... get..."

"There it is again. Where's that coming from?" Gary had ruptured the parents' reverie of sadness, halting Wendy's forlorn sobs, hope welling within her as she recognized her son's gruff and mangled voice.

"Geettt... ittt... ouuttt...."

This time Aaron heard his boy's tortured voice too, but he couldn't understand it, "What's he saying?"

"I think he said, 'Get out'."

"No, Jonathan, it sounded like he said 'it. Get it out'."

"Of course Gary, you're right that's it! Don't you see? Don't you get it?" Jonathan's excited outburst startled and confused the group; all they could do was stare with bewilderment.

"That guy, what was his name... Saul. He used Satanism, witchcraft, black magic, whatever you call it; it's all the same thing no matter who says it's not, to curse that boy in the past and the same thing happened to your son. It's not that he's really cursed or hexed or anything, it's like you said at the house... he's possessed. You can't use Satanism for this; a demon won't cast out another demon. Like Susanne's grandmother said in her journal, 'Two wrongs don't make a right.' You have to cast the unclean spirit out of him."

"Well how do we do that?"

"We can't, Aaron, but a pastor can."

"Why can't we do it?"

"It takes someone in the spirit of God to be able to cast out a demon. We can't even be here when he's praying."

"I'm not leaving my son!"

"If you don't Wendy, you run the risk of that thing possessing you, or it failing all together. Now is that what you really want? I can't even be here. I'm too young in my faith to be effective and would most likely end up causing more harm than good. If you want to save your son, get on that phone and call Pastor Garrison, he's still here isn't he?"

Wendy and Aaron stared deep into each other's eyes, trying desperately to communicate, this was their boy, their only child, but what choice did they have? Without shifting his gaze, Aaron, reached into his khaki shorts and handed his wife the phone.

"Make the call."

## Chapter Thirty Four

_And these signs shall follow them that believe; In my name shall they cast out devils,_

Mark 16:17

Pastor Ezekiel Garrison was sitting quietly in his lazy boy, drinking a mocha cappuccino, listening to his big band music and reading his beloved Bible. Since the curfew his nightly counseling sessions had either been rescheduled or canceled all together and being a night owl by nature left many a quiet hours. He read for the pleasure of being close to the Lord, to learn of man's history, the promises of today, and the future in store for us all. Still the interruption of a ringing phone gave his aging eyes a welcomed rest.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Pastor Garrison? This is Wendy Kinsington. I'm sorry... we need your help. It's our son, he's gonna die if you don't help us. Please, please!"

He knew the Kinsingtons, he knew almost everyone in and around town, he had performed the ceremony that had joined Wendy and Aaron in marriage and nearly everyone else married in Epson. Their son had been christened in his sanctuary and now he... now they, needed him.

"Wendy, Wendy please slow down and tell me where you are."

"The lake... we're at the lake. Come to scenic point, that's where I'll be waiting. Please Pastor, please say you'll come?"

"Tell me what this is all about, Wendy. Is Jeremy hurt, is he in danger?"

"Yes, please just come!"

"Alright Wendy, I'll come, but you know there is a curfew in place. I may not make it, but I'll try to pull rank."

"Officer Carpell, Gary is here with us. It won't be a problem, just hurry!"

"Stay calm, I'll be there soon." He dropped the phone on the table and began to close his Bible when the next verse caught his eye, '... there was a man, which had a spirit of an unclean devil, and cried out with a loud voice,' Luke 4:23. Chills made him shiver but they were squelched by the Holy Spirit. He grabbed his sneakers from beside his chair, picked up his keys, jacket, and ball cap then interrupted his wife's weekly bulletin designing. They took each other's hand and began to pray and when they had said 'amen' kissed each other goodbye.

Her husband went where the Lord led him, that was not only his job, but his choice and she trusted God to return him safely to her. She wished him well and continued to pray; fervently.

Ezekiel had no idea what he was walking into, but his Bible, a vile of anointing oil, topped off with divine guidance was all anyone needed. He drove down the wet, deserted streets, hearing the wipers march and the slush of his tires pass through the puddles, and prayed until his car pulled into scenic point. There were already two vehicles to welcome him, one held a trembling Wendy Kinsington, who at the sight of headlights snatched up her flashlight and dashed out into the pouring rain to meet, possibly, her only chance she had to save her son.

"Oh thank God you're here, thank God! Thank you so much Pastor, thank you so much." She would have fallen at his feet had time permitted.

"Okay Wendy, I'm here, now where is everyone and what's wrong with Jeremy?"

"I can't explain; there's no time! Please you have to see for yourself, please come with me. It's this way."

The man studied people as part of his counseling methods and Wendy Kinsington was definitely in no condition to explain anything.

"Alright Wendy, lead the way."

He followed her into the dark, rain soaked woods and immediately heard the wails of a tortured soul. His heart leapt and he began praying for the pitiful creature behind those cries. They reached the cave in record time, stopping for nothing, and the closer he came to his unknown destination the more he knew that he was in for a life altering experience that would not only test his faith, but his sanity as well. This may very well be the culmination of his study and dedication to God.

They reached the summit and entered the hollow without a word passing between them. Ezekiel saw the small crowd of men huddled around the dark mass whimpering miserably and realized that the hideous beast responsible for the hellish noise and the deaths of so many, was Jeremy Kinsington. Softly and with great importance he spoke to any who would listen.

"What happened to him?"

In a moment of clarity, Wendy, filled him in on the past few days, "Jeremy and his friends found this old spell book written by some crazy man and read from it and now he's... this! I tried the reversal incantation that I found but it didn't work. I tried it multiple times in English and that stupid Latin and nothing."

"Help... me... get... it... out... please... help..."

"I see." Ezekiel Garrison took a deep breath and took charge. "All of you are going to have to leave. I hate to have to send you out into the storm, but only those strong in the Lord with a close heart to Jesus can be in here. I'm not going to sugar coat this for you, there's no time, but this is a nasty and powerful demon to cause this kind of mutation and I will not endanger any of your souls in the process of saving his."

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

"Pray Aaron, pray harder than you've ever prayed for anything in your life and don't stop." Aaron nodded and led his wife and friends from the cave and waited for the nightmare to be over.

Inside the cavern the unholy scream intensified as Pastor Garrison began to speak to the demon harbored deep inside Jeremy and it spoke back. Spurting obscenities and curses, lies and filth in as many languages as it could dredge up from its foul existence; spitting and hissing at the man of God, playing on the sins of his past and laughing at his failures, past and future, asserting its dominance.

"He'ssss mine. You can't have him, they gave him to me. He belongsss to me. I havvve permission."

"You know good and well that this boy does not belong to you. He belongs to the Lord God. By the power of Christ I command you to leave this boy, he does not want you." Ezekiel anointed Jeremy with the oil and began to read by flashlight the Holy word of God, but the demon only laughed.

"You call on Him, yet you use my master to bind me. You will fail. There is no power in you...."

It was then he noticed the talisman dangling from Jeremy's deformed neck. Righteous indignation fueled Ezekiel and the Holy Spirit washed over him anew as he reached down yanking the cursed object from his neck and flung it out the cave. The beast only laughed harder and rose to its full height towering over the man of God, completely in control of the boy once more. The pathetic Christ man had fallen for its trap and now he would die... painfully.

"I bind you unclean spirit in the name of Jesus Christ and I rebuke you from this boy and from this plane. I command you return to the pit from whence you came. I bind you in the Holy name of Christ."

The demon reared to laugh again, but this time found that its very breath caught in its matted chest. It fell back to the ground struggling to breathe, then to move. Something was happening. Breaths came shallow and fleeting, and its limbs were heavy and limp. It struggled to regain control; to rip this man's throat from him, but the body would not obey. The demon began to panic.

"You can't have him! He's ours! We have a right to him! He was given to us!" The spirit continued its attacks on Ezekiel's life and his salvation.

Again Pastor Garrison anointed the boy with oil and began praying; loudly and with great authoritative power the Lord strengthening his every word. This caused the beast to thrash as hard as it could, but its limbs held fast in their invisible restraints.

"You have no right to this child! He belongs to God! He does not want you and I command you to leave him in the name of Jesus!"

"They gave him to us!"

"They have no right to give anyone to you, now depart! Jeremy, I know you can hear me, it's Pastor Garrison. Fight Jeremy, use the name of Christ. Tell the spirit to leave you Jeremy; pray son, pray. I'm here with you son, and just like Christ I will not leave you nor forsake you. It cannot win, have faith son."

Blindness, deafness, seizures, and more mutations befell Jeremy's body as the battle for his soul raged on, neither side backing down. Again and again, Ezekiel rebuked the demon with the power of Christ holding the boy and anointing him as he read the pure word of God Almighty. The spirit was unyielding, but he was even more relentless than the unclean one.

*****

The deformed sounds of man, beast, and boy reverberated through the rocky halls and tore the couple's hearts in two. They felt so helpless and scared; all they could cling to was their ceaseless prayers for the two inside. In this they would not fail, on and on the cries to God continued, with tears and without, aloud and silent, on their knees and in each other's arms. The thunder quieted, the lightning faded, the rain ceased to fall, and the clouds that had hung over the town finally parted to reveal the crest of the dawn. It's light, warm and peaceful.

"Is it over?"

"No Wendy, sweetie, it's just daybreak."

"No... it's Him... it's God." Michael's calm, certain statement was enough to send Wendy dashing back into the dusty den just in time to witness Pastor Garrison covering her naked son with his jacket. She forced her trembling legs to carry her to his side, scooping him up in her arms.

"Mom? What's going on? Where are we?"

"It's alright Baby, you were just sleepwalking that's all."

"Then why are you crying? Is everything alright?"

"I... we were just worried about you, very worried about you. We love you so much, you know that right? You mean the world to us. Everything is perfect; just perfect now that you're safe and sound."

"Okay son, let's get you home. We've all had a busy night, and we all could use some rest." Aaron helped his son to stand, "Jonathan could you and Michael help Jeremy back down to our car?"

"Of course, let's go fellas. It's a long walk."

"If you will excuse me, I need to call Michael's parents and let them know that he's on his way home after we get his shoulder taken care of at the clinic. I hope he's not in too much trouble. I'll be right outside if you need me."

As soon as Officer Carpell and the boys were out of earshot things turned serious and somber. All were exhausted and maybe their words hung heavier than they needed or maybe not.

"Pastor Garrison, how can I ever thank you enough?"

"I'm just glad I could help, Aaron. If you really want to thank someone, thank God. Without Him none of us would amount to a hill of beans and none of this would have been possible."

"Of course; but Pastor?"

"Yes, Wendy?"

"How could this happen? I mean Jeremy's not into witchcraft or anything, how is it possible that he could be possessed to this extent? He's a good boy."

"Even solid Christians deal with demons and temptation, sometimes on a daily basis. We are not immune to possession, but having the armor of God and the tools and education to recognize demonic occurrences protects us more than those without it.

Jeremy's a good boy; I agree, but it doesn't take a practicing Satanist to open yourself up to possession. Ouija boards, tarot cards, psychics, astrology, even a love of Goth and the morbid can lead to a spirit of possession regardless of whether or not you believe. People may argue and refuse it, but the truth is these all come from the same dark source. Satan has many tricks and faces and he will take advantage of even the tiniest of opportunities. Unfortunately even those who are or were victims of abuse are susceptible to spirits of suicide, anger, rage, lust, depression and more. We all need to be careful what we put not only into our bodies, but our minds and souls as well. The eyes truly are the windows to the soul, and after this night I realize that I had been neglecting to keep you and the rest of the town educated about the dangers that are still very real and plaguing each of us. I'm sorry that I failed you, Aaron, Wendy, please forgive me, but I won't let it happen again. Tonight has taught me a lot."

Neither knew what to say, this man had just saved the life of their son, and now he was asking for their forgiveness.

"Pastor there's nothing to forgive, you saved his life. Besides, before this happened I don't think we would have listened much to your warnings," Aaron could see he wasn't changing Ezekiel's mind, "but if it helps... of course we forgive you."

"Thank you."

"Pastor?"

"Yes, Wendy?"

"What do we tell him? Jeremy, I mean. Will he be alright?"

"I won't kid you; this is going to take a lot of prayer and fasting on all our parts to make sure that this spirit does not come back. Luke chapter eleven warns about repossession that's even worse than the first. Satan feels like he has a claim on your son and his heirs and will be looking for any opportunity to slip in to their lives, but he cannot succeed if you're vigilant. Those whom God sets free are free indeed, but that doesn't mean that you can go back to the way things were, doing whatever you want and not suffer the same or a worse fate. An alcoholic, once freed from his addiction can't go back to casual drinking and not expect to slip back into alcoholism.

As for what you tell him; that's completely up to you, but I would suggest the truth. Lying is a sin and will only eat away at you like a cancer. Besides, I truly believe that he will figure it out one day and then it will be worse for all of you when he does. What's done in the dark will come to light. I'll be more than happy to help him get through any difficulties he may have, and you two as well. I'm always here for all of you; day or night, and I believe all of you need some counseling to completely accept and work through what's happened as individuals and as a family.

Now, nothing that has happened here will go any farther than those present tonight, but there is another matter just as urgent that we need to address."

Uneasy silence.

"I don't know the whole story, but there seems to be a few items that we need to destroy before they cause any more damage. Am I correct?"

Wendy couldn't help but look at the ground as she had done when her parents had confronted her as a child.

"It's alright, Wendy, I'm not scolding you." Ezekiel let out a little chuckle, "I just want to make sure to get everything gathered up that had a part in this and get rid of it permanently."

"But all that history..." She had said it before realizing it.

"Was it worth it, Wendy?"

"No."

"Are you willing to take the chance of something like this happening again to your family or someone else's?"

"No."

"Good, because as long as you hold onto that book you will have an open door for that demon to walk right back through."

Gary hated to interrupt, but he was on the clock and there was one last body to attend to, "I'm sorry to rush you, but this is still a crime scene and I need to get things taken care of here." He gave Aaron a look that said it all and as quickly and calmly as he could Aaron ushered the pastor and his wife from the cave before either of them was exposed the rotting remains of Harold Pintac.

## Chapter Thirty Five

_When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest; and finding none, he saith, I will return unto my house whence I came out. Then goeth he, and taketh to him seven other spirits more wicked than himself; and they enter in, and dwell there: and the last state of that man is worse than the first._

Luke 11:24 & 26

The rain fell heavily all around Michael, turning to steam as it touched his skin. All he could see was rain and fog. That's when it happened. The attack came suddenly from behind, slashing his back and sending him to his knees. The second slash severed his spinal cord, a welcome escape from the searing pain that wracked his body. Michael lay, slumped, in the mud and leaves while the beast lowered its head to meet his, face to face. Its rancid, decaying, breath bringing up his last meal as it spoke.

"Next YOU!"

## And Then...

_And there they left their idols, and David and his men burned them._

II Samuel 5:21

Under the cover of the clear night sky, witnessed only by the stars, a small group of people gathered in Ezekiel Garrison's back yard to lay to rest the bane of the past. The trinkets and tomes were gathered together, leaving nothing left to fall into the hands of well, anyone, and bound by the spirit of Christ. The group of men and women prayed and worshiped as Pastor Garrison built a bonfire fueled by accelerants and faith. Both Wendy and Susanne had willing handed over their spell books, neither wanting the accursed things in their homes.

The flesh of Saul's tome sizzled in the flames as it cooked and the acrid stench of sulfur and burning flesh wafted into the air. The wind began to whip around the fire, swinging the trees wildly as unearthly howls erupted from what seemed like nowhere and smoke figures danced and glided around the yard. Ezekiel, Gary, Aaron, Wendy, and Jonathan watched as Satan's minions led a protest against the destruction of their polluted property and domicile. The sights and sounds of their tirades disturbed them, but after the past few days nothing would surprise them. They only prayed harder and eventually the night returned to normal; another battle having been won, and eventually the tension of the evening subsided and the friends slipped easily into conversation.

"So Gary, how much trouble did Michael get into? Is his shoulder alright?"

"Luckily it wasn't too bad, and as providence has it, it only served to solidify evidence of an animal attack. I discovered that he had passed out before he'd disappeared so I told his mother what he had told me. He'd been suffering from nightmares since the attacks began and was too embarrassed to say anything, which led to sleep deprivation. That night he collapsed and was probably sleepwalking, when he finally woke up he was scared and disoriented and he sought shelter right away. That seemed to do the job and it was true, at least from what I understand, which isn't a whole lot after the past week. I realize now how little I really do know. How's your son?"

"It's like being a father again for the first time; after we got home and he went to bed I couldn't help but to peek in on him every few minutes, just to check on him."

"Is he still at the house?"

"Susanne's with him and her boys. After we got home we just felt it was somehow safer to stay at our house so we crashed where ever there was a place. She was nice and volunteered to stay behind while we came out to take care of things here."

"Sue and I had talked about it and since she hadn't seen what we all had we both thought it best to..."

"Hey I hear ya, Jonathan. None of us knew what to expect. No sense her seeing any more than she has to. Is she alright?"

Jonathan didn't quite know how to answer that question, "I don't know. We're all on auto pilot right now, time will tell, but she won't go through anything alone." He glanced at Aaron, hoping he hadn't offended him.

"It's alright, Jonathan, it wasn't Jeremy, but the thing inside him. We all have to deal with that."

"How is he?"

"He slept most of the day, Gary, but when he woke up he was lighter and happier than I had seen him in, well a long time. Not to pry, but I was wondering how you were going to report all of this; you had mentioned an animal attack?"

"I thought about that a lot, and I figured that the truth is the only way to go."

Aaron held his breath.

"The attacks were caused by a single animal that was tracked down and dealt with on sight. There is no further danger to Epson or her citizens. Case closed. I don't know how my superiors will take the vagueness of my report, especially after Pintac's death, but I'll just have to deal with that when the time comes."

While the guys were talking, Wendy took the opportunity to pull Pastor Garrison aside.

"Pastor, I wanted to ask you something that I can't quite understand."

"Of course, Wendy. What can I do for you?"

"That talisman?"

"Yes?"

"Why did it work when the spell didn't? Wouldn't either both work or not work at all?"

"Good question. When Jesus was healing the sick and casting out devils he was accused of doing these things by the power of Satan. That's when he said, 'Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and a house divided against a house falleth. If Satan also be divided against himself, how shall his kingdom stand?'. Satan is the prince of lies and deception, he gives men a small amount of power; as in those medallions, but when it comes to giving men the ability to cast out one of his own..."

Wendy finally understood, "So the talismans were just a tease, they were never meant to help at all were they?"

"Not at all, they were just another one his many misdirections. As long as he can keep you looking in the wrong direction for answers you won't see that you're walking off a cliff straight into Hell."

Suddenly she began to shake as tears streamed down her cheek.

"What's wrong Wendy?"

"It could have been me."

"What could?"

"The curse or possession, or whatever you call it. I almost did it again, if Aaron hadn't stopped me I would have read that thing aloud myself. I'm so obsessed with knowing that I would have put my family and this town in danger all over again. I mean there could have been two of them out there; can you imagine what I would have done, what I would have caused. Jeremy causing this is one thing, he didn't know any better, he's just a child, but me; I should have known better, but no not me if it's there I'm going after it like a pit bull."

Ezekiel hugged her comfortingly, "Wendy, thank God that you were stopped and use this as a lesson for the future. Now you know and if you keep in mind the events that have transpired over the last so many days the Lord will never lead you astray, and not only does he forgive your sins, but he forgets them as well."

*****

As the night wore on the group eventually broke up returning to their homes and lives, to pick up the pieces and begin anew. Ezekiel watched over the pyre until all traces of the cursed objects were nothing more than ash, even the metal of the medallions had melted into deformed clumps in the prolonged heat of the flames. The pastor knelt beside the small glowing pile of ash reflecting on the last twenty four hours. His eyes had been opened and there was no going back. He had been so busy telling his congregation that Jesus loves them that he'd neglected to teach them the other side. There is a darkness and not just in men's hearts, just because he'd focused on the light doesn't make it any less true or real. How many of his fellow men had he neglected to help by overlooking the unpleasant, leaving them open to the will of the destroyer. How long had it been since he told his parish that God's commandments aren't just a bunch of rules and 'Thou shalt not's, but a loving warning from a Father to His children; just as he had told his own children not to put things in the light sockets and to look both ways before crossing the street.

Shame and guilt washed over him and he fell before God, "Father forgive me! Forgive me for taking from Your word, for not wanting to see the darkness, let alone teach it. I have failed so many, but most importantly I have failed You. Forgive me that it took a demon walking amongst me to realize my short comings, forgive me for not only failing to inform and teach vigilance to those whom you entrusted me with, but for neglecting vigilance myself. Give me strength Father, strength and wisdom to teach your whole word, good and bad, and not worry about whom I offend. Help me to teach the truth, Your truth, all of it and make me vigilant so that this will not happen again. As You teach me may I in turn teach..." Ezekiel's prayer for guidance and forgiveness continued for some time until his heart was purged.

After the flames died down, he doused the remaining embers with the water hose and turned in for the night, but as he reached for the door a faint sound caught his attention. There, in the shadows, huddled in the rear corner of the Garrison's deck, was a very still, very frightened Michael Lamb. Ezekiel could see the fear in the poor boy's eyes, and understood.

"It's alright son, come with me. Everything will be alright, you'll see."

## Epilogue

_I the Lord will make myself known unto him in a vision, and will speak unto him in a dream._

Numbers 12:6

Trevor bolted upright in bed, barely missing his tangled web. His heart racing as if the devil himself had been chasing him. Then it dawned on him, the true source of his night terrors was no further then across his room. He dropped to the floor and trudged over to the Plexiglas cases. There he studied the first of the three animatronic wonders, an exact match of the demon werewolf of his dreams, obviously the source of his nocturnal adventure. Trevor cursed himself for being such a baby, then turned off the light to the wolf head's case. No longer would it be able to influence his sleep. That and it spooked him a little now; though he would never admit it. He crawled into bed and snuggled back down in his sheets, sure that it would take forever to get back to sleep... in two minutes he was out.

## The Werewolf

The werewolf is one of history's oldest monsters, dating as far back as 2000 B.C., when the Epic of Gilgamesh was first written down. Since then myth and hysteria has spread throughout the minds and hearts of the world like wildfire. Even such works as Homer's Odyssey contains a hint of the belief in werewolves, and people great and small such as Prince Vseslav of Polock a.k.a. The Ukrainian Werewolf (1000 B.C.), the Neuri (500 B.C.), Gilles Garnier (1573), Peter Stubb (1589), and Antoine Leger (1824) were all accused of being lycanthropes. It was also reported that Damarchus, The Arcadian werewolf, won a boxing medal at the Olympics in 400 B.C..

Since then, thousands of books and dozens of films have been thrilling audiences worldwide for decades, but where did the whole silver bullet, full moon thing come from? Mostly a mixture of places. People took the most interesting, believable, or horrifying parts of the tale and blended it with others that they had heard from cultures all around the world.

The Windigo from Canadian lore was a gigantic, sub-arctic, man eating species with hearts of ice. They used trees as snowshoes, covering vast distances in a single step and were as tall as the trees, and packs of these creatures were said to play catch with human skulls.

At first glance, this folk creature seems nothing like the common idea of a werewolf. The word Windigo is Algonquin for "evil spirit" and "cannibal", but here is where things get interesting, a bite or a scratch from the windigo would possess a human and turn them into one as well, though they would not grow to the gigantic height of its originator. They then crave human flesh, run wild in the woods, and grows a heart of ice. A person can also choose to become a windigo or can be transformed into one by an evil sorcerer and can be killed by; you guessed it, a silver bullet.

The common, universal lore contains many of the same elements. A person is able to choose to become a werewolf by one of many ways, including: climbing into a wolf skin, drinking water from the puddle of a wolf's paw print, or ingesting certain magical potions. Many potions were dead ends, but those that "worked" all contained the same ingredient... hallucinogens. One such potion includes: nightshade, henbane, pig fat, turpentine, olive oil, and alcohol. Since drinking these potions left the many would be werewolves dead, they were instead made not to be ingested, but rather to be lathered over the person's body instead. The hallucinogens would then work their way into the bloodstream through the skin and cause the person not only to believe he was a werewolf, but also gave them the ability to kill and mutilate animals and people with a drug induced, inhuman, strength.

In most werewolf lores, if the werewolf refrained from devouring human flesh than he could return to human form; if not, he was doomed to remain a werewolf forever, such as in Norwegian and Greek lore. In Germany, the wolf skin was held onto the body by a magical buckle. When the buckle broke so did the spell.

In some versions just telling a person they were a werewolf; or calling a werewolf by their human name would break the curse, but in all versions the only way to kill a werewolf was with a silver bullet. After that the body was beheaded and burnt, just to make sure.

Other effective methods of diversions are holy water and crosses. What is interesting to note is that most monsters, demons, and phantoms are affected by crosses, silver, and holy water or anointed oil, four very strong Christian items.

Holy water / anointed oil- water or oil blessed by God.

Cross- Symbol of Christ's crucifixion and resurrection.

Silver- It was for thirty pieces of silver that Judas Iscariot betrayed Jesus Christ.

Unfortunately, many people were arrested and put to death for being a werewolf when illness and bacteria were the real culprits. Due to a bacteria that grew in the wheat crop and was then baked into the towns bread supply an entire town was suffering from hallucinations those that weren't seeing werewolves thought that they were werewolves. That in connection with a genetic condition called porphyria sent many innocent men and women to their deaths.

Porphyria, a genetic disorder, causes a hemoglobin deficiency which leads to severe photosensitivity, hypertrichosis (where thick, fur like hair covers part or all of the body including the face- this condition is not always in conjunction with porphyria, but has been documented many times on its own where individuals, usually men more recently dubbed "wolfmen" are perfectly healthy and suffer from no other illness or symptoms), and a discoloration of the skin pigmentation. Porphrins build up in the body and injure vital organs such as the liver, digestive system, brain, nervous system, and the skin itself. Symptoms usually don't appear until adulthood and are usually triggered by drugs, alcohol, or even exposure to sunlight. If left untreated the disease leads to ulcerating skin lesions, deterioration of the nose, ears, eyelids, teeth, fingers and nails. The flesh, due to porphyrin deposits, turns to a disturbing red and brown color and soon after mental illness takes a hold. Mild hysteria, delirium, and manic depression eventually set in. These cases are rare, but with symptoms such as these it's no wonder the victims were thought to be werewolves.

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Excerpt from

Costly Obsession: Decay
Chapter Eleven

The last few weeks in New Orleans had flown by and his mother and aunt were ecstatic when he had phoned them and told them that he was coming home to stay and the homecoming party he had received was truly a joyous event. Everyone was glad to have him back, but as the days went by he knew he would have to tell his mother the truth. The truth of why he had not returned to North Carolina and why he had left school and Eddie behind, so one night when all was quiet and he and his mother were alone he sat her down on the sofa, held her hand, and poured out his heart to her.

"Mom, I know you're glad to have me home, but I also know you're wondering about school and things. Well, Ma you know I've been pretty good about passing tests ever since I straightened up, I passed one more... an HIV test."

"What?"

"Before you start your third year, before they let you get hands on with real patients the school required me, requires everyone, to take an HIV test to prevent any accidental transmission. The tests are completely private unless it comes back positive and then only the dean of students has the information. My test came back positive, something from when I was young and stupid. Now I couldn't continue the medical program at school, they couldn't take the risk and I don't blame them. I couldn't consciously take the chance myself either, but at the time I didn't know what to do so I chose to let them send the scholarship money back and well... let's just say I had a few rough months, but I've been working through it and..." It was then that Eric noticed that his mother's face had gone ashen as she was listening to him and she suddenly yanked her hand away from him in disgust.

"Get away from me!"

"But Mom..."

"No! Stay back! Get away from me!" She ran screaming from the room and down the hall to her bedroom as he followed, slamming the door between them and locking it while she yelled, "Get out, monster!"

"Momma, Momma listen!" He turned around to see his aunt peering at him from the crack of her partially opened door; she looked at him with disgust, then closed and bolted the door behind her.

What was going on? It wasn't supposed to be like this. There was a knock at the front door, but when he answered it three uniformed officers rushed in and slammed him face first against the wall yelling at him.

"Get up against the wall!"

"Don't move!"

"You're under arrest!"

"Don't make it harder for yourself!"

Suddenly he was in intense pain as one of the officers gave him a face full of pepper spray before cuffing him and dragging him to the car and then to a holding cell at county lock up. All he could learn was that his mother had called them reporting that he had attacked her. Confused and crushed he had called the only other person he could think of, his pastor, who agreed to come. He had no idea how long he had been waiting before he looked up to see the eyes of his friend and mentor.

"Oh, Pastor, thank God you're here. I don't understand, what's going on?"

"How dare you call on God? God has abandoned you. We don't want your kind here in our town. We don't want the likes of you infecting all us decent people with your nasty disease. Take your punishment and get out. Go back to your own filthy kind. You'll never be welcome here."

Eric awoke in a cold sweat, stomach churning. He ran for the bathroom and hung his head over the toilet emptying its contents, then he laid there, shaking uncontrollably. Finally he gathered the strength to climb upright and stare at his reflection in the mirror. It was haggard and pale. How far had his illness progressed without him knowing it? After he had first found out that he was HIV positive he had put his body through the wringer, though he had put the weight back on; his mother had made sure of that when she was in town. How much of a foothold had his anger and stupidity allowed the disease to gain? By the looks of his own image he was little more than death warmed over. Oh why had he waited until now to decide to do something about the virus invading his cells? How much time had he lost? He rinsed his sour mouth then made his way to the kitchen for a cold bottle of water. He fell onto the couch, reflecting on the dream that was still fresh in his mind and sent his heart racing. It was just the night before he had decided to go home. How could things have gone so wrong so quick?

Had they really gone that wrong thought? After all it was only a dream.

_You saw the image in the mirror. Death is knocking on your door._ Whispered the formless black mass that surrounded him. It had been waiting for this exact moment and it was coiled to strike and strike hard.

How could it have come so quickly? What about treatments? What about medications? I can start right now!

Yeah, great. Treatments riddled with violent side effects and none for sure. You'd be better off dead than a miserable mass of useless flesh. A burden to your family. I'm sure your mother would just love to have to wipe your behind again just like she had to when you were a baby. I'm sure that is exactly how she wants to spend her golden years. Is that what you want?

Of course not, but there has to be some other way?

Why don't you just man up and do what you said? Or are you too afraid?

Afraid... afraid of what?

Why don't you just do it yourself? Find your own cure?

I said that in a moment of desperation. How could I possibly find a cure for HIV? People all over the world have been trying desperately for years to find a cure for HIV.

Some of the greatest cures and vaccines in history were discovered by single individuals in homemade labs, and your aunt sure thought she had the cure. What were her words?"The secrets of life and death."

Those were the crazy ramblings of a mentally ill woman who was losing her grip on reality and believed in nonsense.

Were they? Really? There are plants and herbs that her ways have been using for centuries that science hasn't even begun to explore, let alone unlock the secrets of. There could very well be something in those books that could lead to your redemption.

True... I guess, but...

Do you want to die? Do you want to suffer? To be a burden to your family and possibly infect the ones you claim to love the most, just like your friend Eddie, in the process. Dooming them to the same tortured fate as you when there's something that you can do about it? You don't have to be helpless you know. You don't have to just sit back and wait to rot to death, you can do something. You can take charge of your life, of your future, of your destiny. Or do you like being helpless?

Of course not, but...

But what? You're here... now... in a house that's all yours to do with as you please, and with no one to bother you or tell you what to do or to worry about, and those journals are right in there. It wouldn't hurt to take a look would it? Just a peek at what medicinal plants might be in there, it's not like you're going to start chanting and dancing around the room calling on some spirit or something.

True, it wouldn't.

It had him now. From then on he debated with himself for a few more moments instead of the darkness growing all around him before fishing the books out of the refuse box and diving into the world of his aunt, the world of voodoo. After all, what did he have to lose? He could always go home as planned later... right? What's the worst that could happen, they're only books right?

Eric went to the box he had dumped his aunt's journals and collected them all. He grabbed a drink and spread out the notebooks, placing them back in order. He picked up one of the spiral journals and perused the 'secrets' inside, chuckling at some of the rituals and superstitions he found. He was fairly convinced he was right the first time and was just about to toss the books back in the trash something caught his eye. It was a recipe that seemed somewhat familiar in a distorted sort of way. He recognized some of the ingredients and the way they were combined. Curious and somewhat excited he grabbed his laptop and after impatiently waiting for it to boot up, brought up an article that he had saved shortly before his life had fallen apart. It was an article about a treatment for cancer and the ingredient makeup of the medications involved and something looked similar. He scrolled through the pages until he found what he was looking for and he began comparing the journal to the paper and they were nearly identical once you got past the terminology differences. He couldn't believe it, right there in front of him in a rugged, spiral, college ruled notebook was a treatment for cancer that had been used for who knows how long.

Excitement and energy surged through him, what else would he find tucked away amongst these superstitions and rituals. Eric plunged head first into the rest of the journals, starting at the beginning. He was like a kid at Christmas flying through each of the books, picking out things that were possible or at least worth researching, barely able to get completely through one volume before opening up the next. First there was one, then two, then five, more and more possibilities tucked away in tiny corners of those journals papers were nuggets of formulas and hints of cures that to his understanding might be not only possible, but viable. Finally, after having consumed the entire collection he set about cautiously sifting through each one. With empty notebooks in hand that he had found earlier, pens, and highlighters he spread out his books and things and began slowly examining one page at a time, highlighting, copying, and making many notes of his own. All day and night he went on like this, so engrossed he ate nothing and his drink went warm more than once. It wasn't until the light from a newly risen sun reached his blurry, bloodshot eyes that he set aside his studies, blinked his eyes, and slept.

He awoke to a dark room and a darker sky, and after taking care of some business was right back to work until he fell asleep from exhaustion eighteen hours later, pen in hand and mid-sentence. Day after day went like this, stopping only for sustenance and a quick run to the store for more notebooks and a few necessities. He copied; recopied, organized, and reorganized until everything was written legibly in nice, neat, categorized notebooks, then he copied each one into his computer. He sealed his aunt's journals in plastic waterproof containers with rodent poison pellets and moisture packets and placed the box in his room under the nightstand.

So many formulas looked promising. Some for skin conditions, some for digestive problems, but what drew him the most were the two formulas dealing with "poison blood". Could one of these lead to his cure, his redemption? He didn't know, but he was determined to find out. To prevent distractions he put all the notebooks except the one categorized as 'blood formulas' with his aunt's and began his research into the viability of each. He got a library card for his local branch, he hit every website he found, and even went as far as to find a way to sneak into the local universities student library to find even the tiniest scrap of information. He ate rarely without a book before him, a pen in one hand and whatever could be picked up with the other. It was nearly three months before he was able to eliminate the first of the two possibilities. His heart plummeted with the thought that not only was the last few months in vain, but that his entire quest might be a giant waste of time and effort, but that it... that he was a lost cause.

He once again looked like that frail figure in the mirror that he was at the height of his despair before coming to New Orleans. The dark circles were growing, and he had lost nearly all the weight that his mother had worked so hard to put back on him. He was wasting away and he could feel it, the image in the mirror wasn't the only thing that told him that. He could feel it right into his core, into his soul. His soul; he had nearly forgotten about that. He wondered if he even had one left after all this. What had he become and where was he going, he was a shell of a man. A shell of the man he had worked so hard to become, to be proud of, to make his mother proud of... his mother. What would she think of what he's done, of the man he was now? If he could even call what was left of him a man. Where had he gone wrong, where had he left his soul? Maybe she would know, her and all those he had left behind, those he loved and those who loved him. He should have gone home months ago, just as he had originally planned. This was no place for him, alone and empty. This is it, the end of all this madness; he was packing up and going home. Home; just the sound of that word lifted a weight from his shoulders and his heart. He was done here, he'd pack up what was left and go, there's nothing left for him here anymore, there never was. It was those journals those stupid journals left to him by some crazy old woman he had no memory of, maybe he should just burn every one of them and be rid of them and the temptation they held once and for all. No, just because he couldn't handle it doesn't mean that the knowledge should be lost. They could still do a lot of good in the right hands and he knew just who's hands that would be, Sam's. He'd pack up everything, all those books, his notes, everything and send it to her, she was brilliant and a year ahead of him in med school. If anyone could do something with those... things she could. Who knows what miracles could be wrought with her beautifully gifted hands, and who knows, maybe one day he'll be strong enough to help her and stand beside her once more.

And that was it, after a brief binge of sadness, frustration, pity and booze he sobered up, showered, and started over. Of course he could take just one quick look at that second formula. After all, what could it hurt?

