-11-

After only a few minutes of talking, black clouds began rolling into Enfield from the north. This was not entirely unusual since most of the storms in the White River area were sent down from Canada. At first glance one might have thought it to be just another thunderstorm. The immense rolling nebula appeared to swallow everything in its path.

The tiny hairs on the back of Meagans neck stood straight up as the air became charged with electricity. Sykes rose from his chair, unaware at first, of the exigency.

Suddenly, the howl of the wind became deafening. Meagan, seeing this for what it was, ran toward her car in a pathetic effort to get away. Sykes now understood his predicament and shouted to Meagan.

You must be careful, he has many faces.

Meagan stopped short of getting into her car to respond. She did not, however, get the chance.

Standing before Sykes was the creature that would end his life. Its horribly disfigured face was close enough to him that he could feel its hot breath. Anger reeked from its eyes, as though it had expected more from him. Tiny oblong holes were the only reminder of a nose that had long since decayed. Several large gaping wounds in the chest bore the tell tale signs that whoever this poor person had been, he had died the same way as Sykes wife.

Undaunted by this reminder of the past Sykes never wavered. His stare was deep into the eyes of his attacker. Meagan was sure they were communicating though nothing was said by either. After what seemed like an eternity, Gerald removed any doubt.

Fuck you, rolled almost softly from his mouth.

In that instant all three beings knew that Sykes would die. Meagan had wanted to turn away, but she could not. Sykes, unafraid, burned his last thought into the heart of his assailant. And he too realized that Sykes was about to die. And it was just that. A realization that a death was about to occur and nothing could stop it.

Two vine-like appendages slammed into the torso of Gerald Sykes, each exploding out his back with the force of a gun blast. A fine mist of blood filled the area immediately behind him, pieces of his body flying back against the house coloring a maze of deep red lines that aimlessly ran to the floor. A second pair of appendages escaped from the back of the incubus and ripped into Sykes. The first punctured his throat tearing his esophagus to shreds. The second appendage pierced him just above the groin, picking him up a full two feet off the floor.

The four arms separated, tearing Sykes into pieces. He had surrendered not so much as a whimper. After gazing proudly at its work for a few seconds, the hellish demon turned toward Meagan and held out its hand. Then as if to erase any indication that Gerald Sykes ever existed, the house imploded. The vacuum that was created began pulling leaves and loose papers into the void. Meagan looked on in disbelief. Between her and the house stood this thing from who knows where with its arm outstretched to her as if to invite her to some warm haven.

She dared not speak for fear of what might happen. Too confused to do anything else, Meagan wept. Falling to the ground in a seated position her vision never left the assailant. Finally it lowered its hand to its side and turned away. It was done for now. It had proved a point. He was in command and there was no room for compromise.

He walked off to Meagans right toward a small grove of birch trees. The car impeded Meagans view and, wiping away the tears, she pulled herself up to watch it leave.

When it had gotten within a few feet of the grove he casually turned to face Meagan. His eyes burned yellow with fire. Then it was gone.

He disappeared so quickly that it caught Meagan off guard, forcing her to draw a short breath of air into her lungs.

What do you want with me! she screamed, waking herself. She had fallen asleep on her sofa reading the novel by Gerald Sykes. The dream had been real, too real to not have actually happened.

Gerald Sykes was indeed dead.