A moment later lightning raced across the horizon. David distinguished what the four figures had gathered from the ground. Reeling, he clenched his fists. Everything around him spun. Impossible! No way could he have perceived such a sight. Perhaps it was the storm provoking his imagination and fabricating the most gruesome of all hallucinations. Dear God, it has to be something else.

***

David had to fight to regain his balance, then inched the door shut. “Now!” he screamed. “Lock it now.”

Laura had trouble maneuvering around her husband. Once again, the deafening sound of the attacker ramming the door blasted through the utility room.

Again, the door lunged open. Again, David slammed it shut. A desperate cry rang from his throat. His wrists and legs throbbed. “Lock it now!”

***

David couldn’t hear his wife. He kept staring at the intruder, powerless to avert his eyes. His arms, legs, everything inside him malfunctioned. His mind spiraled through an endless void. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. He’d become lost in a world of carnage―trapped in a realm of never-ending dread.

***

“Sheriff,” Billy uttered. “This here is Laura and David Conway. They’re worried about their little gal, Amanda.”

The expression on their faces sent cold steel through the sheriff’s heart. “Don’t you worry about your little girl,” he jumped in. “We’ll get her back, believe you me. We’ll get her back safe and sound. Now come on, let’s get out of here. We need to sort everything out.”

***

Now killing, that Katrina could do. Killing was easy, especially for her. In fact she enjoyed it. Enjoyed everything about it. The blood. The suffering. Everything. It gave her such decadent pleasure. The gorier the better. Slaughtering living creatures, no matter if they were human or animal, gave her an immense adrenaline rush and sent her hormones into orbit. It was better than drugs. Better than rollercoaster rides. Better than rock n roll.

***

“It reads like a script from a grade-B horror flick. It’s the most gruesome file I’ve ever had the displeasure of reading.” Smirking, Schofield glanced at both Billy and Parker. “Dante Kessler makes Charlie Manson look like a cub scout.”

***

But Leonard kept inching toward her, his eyes turning cold and vacant. Taking a gravelly breath, he raised the machete. It soared upward, seemingly yards over his head. Within the dimness of the room, the blade gleamed its own brand of depravity. It the sight were not so terrifying, Katrina would have thought it magnificent.

***

Deputy Brennen shook off his qualms and concentrated on the Conway residence. He’d better pay attention to the real world. He had to keep himself alert and focused. His life and maybe the Conways’ lives depended on it.

As Brennen reached for his sunflower seeds, a hand lunged through the window and grabbed his shoulder. Caught off guard, the deputy’s heart ricocheted inside his chest. He gasped out loud and clutched his sidearm.

***

A nasty feeling hit Parker dead center. As sure as you don’t piss against the wind, something felt damn wrong. Deep down, he didn’t want to approach the Taurus. Maybe that was because he didn’t want to be the one making any gruesome discoveries, especially about someone he’d been so close to and all.

But then again, RW knew he didn’t have a choice. He had to check on Brennen. He had to make sure his friend and fellow deputy was safe and alert. With his heart racing and his palms sweating, Parker unsnapped his holster, pulled out his weapon, and crept forward.

***

By the time Deputy Green spotted the machete, it was too late. Like an animal, she pounced, snarling and slashing. Before he could react, a horrible burning at his stomach overwhelmed him.

***

"I’m known by many names, but you can call me Balaam, Sovereign Ruler of the Abyss, Lord of the Lower Regions. I’m known for torture and mayhem. I can see the past, present, and future.”

***

David remained hidden within the shadows of the west hallway. What lurked just beyond his front door’s stained-glass window caused his heart to pound double time. The significance of the silhouette had become all too clear. A large, hooded figure was in the process of jimmying the lock.

***

The agent crept over. Recognition sank in. After all the gore and guts Schofield had come across through the years, he still almost lost his dinner.