Prologue

In the end, it was the pain that woke him, sharp and tight across his chest, duller in his lungs and throat and his desperate gasps brought no relief.  Heart attack, his first thought, then his eyes opened and he saw the blackness that sat over him, an inkblot in the moonlight, and realized that his death would only appear to be natural.

“Where is it Charles?”

A man’s voice, well known and yet impossible. There was no way Covington could be here, yet he was. And Charles Campbell knew what his old comrade wanted. Campbell moved his hand in a slight twist as if to point out something across the room. The pressure eased when Covington called his beast slightly, letting the old man in the bed breath again.

“What was that Charles?” Covington asked again.

This time Max Covington recognized the ancient gesture of defiance for what it was, just as he recognized the slight click and hiss the preceded the last line of defense Campbell initiated. The explosion blew not only the aged Precept into the next world, but the crouching malevolence as well.

But even while flames burst from the bed, Maxwell Covington was cutting his losses and stepped around a corner that didn’t exist to his own safety.