felt good, so very good to feed again, to taste the sweet, fragrant taste of fear, and death.
The feeding would restore his power, slowly at first, as he took whatever blood he could get. He’d sufficed with mice and squirrels until now. The cat had helped. It, at least, had experienced fear as it felt its own impending doom.
Taking advantage of the relatively pain-free moments after feeding, he reached his mind out in snake-like tendrils, projecting his feelers quickly before the pain could return and weaken him again. Tentatively, he made contact with the other presence, the one who sought him out. This one wasn’t very smart, but his heart was dark enough, even if his mind was not right. He probed this one’s mind. He was easily led and was very close now. Waiting and ready to do whatever was asked of him.
This creature—this mortal man—had already done his bidding as he traveled closer. He had done so without fully knowing what he was doing, or why. He had come very close to letting his emotions force him into making a grievous mistake, though, which would have resulted in beginning all over again.
He could control this man, this creature, and he would. First he must bring him even closer and bind him. Then he would use him and destroy him.
This other was much closer indeed, and responded eagerly to his call.
“Come, my son,” he coaxed, assuming his ancient role once again. “Ease my pain and I will be your God. We will quench one another’s thirst, feed one another’s hunger.”
The other one heard, but did not fully understand. He responded by instinct, the call of one evil soul to another.
Soon. Soon enough. He repeated the call, and the other heard and knew. Soon you will arrive and help to free me from this prison of pain. Then I will have the boy. And the others. All of those who did this to me, and all of their children. And one in particular who has haunted me through the ages. This one will suffer most of all, along with any who ally themselves with him.
Yes, I will have them all. Then the pain began its slow return, like the changing of the tide.
CHAPTER SIX
-1-
Todd lay in his bed, staring absently at the life-sized poster of his wrestling hero, The Rock, which hung on the wall beside his bed. The poster had always given him strength in the past. But now, looking at The Rock made him feel small and weak. He didn’t think that his fear would go away even if his hero suddenly appeared before him in person.
He had tried to understand what had happened to him. He had rolled it all around in his head, every way that he could, but it still didn’t make any sense. He had tried to believe his Mom and Dad, had tried so very hard to accept the horror as a dream, a product of his imagination, the darkness, and the moonlight.
But in his heart, he couldn’t believe. He knew it had all been real. Hauntingly, terribly real. He hadn’t imagined the polished stone. And he hadn’t imagined the blood.
He could still see the terrible place whenever he closed his eyes. The sight of the awful black stone was permanently engraved into his mind. His fingers still tingled with the remembered cold, then heat of its touch. He shivered involuntarily at the thought and pulled the blankets up around his neck. Yet they did nothing to stop the cold, which chilled him to the very marrow of his bones.
He looked into the Rock’s eyes, seeking an answer. But the poster stared past him as if he were not even there. It would offer no help.
No, he was alone on this one. And Mom and Dad would be no help. They still thought his imagination was running wild. He remembered how his Mom had taken his temperature and started feeding him pills, as if that would do any good.
It had been real. The blood had been real. And his geologist’s hammer was broken—that was real. His Uncle Mike had taught him a lot about rocks and had told him that hammer wouldn’t break. He’d been able to chip quartz with that hammer. And
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