its claws, but he ignored the attacks. He made certain he had a firm grip beneath its forelegs and then held it out at arms-length, away from his body, still singing all the while.
He drew the sword over his shoulder until he could feel the soft kiss of the blade against the bare flesh of his lower back.
Suddenly, abruptly, he stopped singing.
The silence was thick with tension, the air in the room seeming heavier than when he’d begun, filled now with a vibrant energy.
The cat met his gaze with its own.
Understanding passed between them.
The sword came whistling down, cutting through the air with an eerie shriek.
The cat’s severed head fell at Blake’s feet with a soft, wet sound.
Blood sprayed from the stump of its neck; a hot crimson fountain that splashed Hudson’s face and upper body.
Moving quickly, he held the sword beneath the cat’s upended corpse, turning it like a spit on a barbecue so that the entire blade was covered with blood before the river stopped. When the blood ceased to flow, he tossed the corpse across the room.
With the dripping blade he unhesitatingly traced a pentagram inside the boundaries of the circle he had created earlier. According to custom, as long as he remained inside the symbol he would be safe from harm.
Not being the type to risk everything on one toss of the dice however, Blake stepped clear of the circle and retrieved the last object he’d left on the floor. The Smith and Wesson felt satisfyingly heavy in his hands.
He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.
Returning to the circle, Blake laid the pistol down between his feet. With his other hand he thrust the sword point-first into the floor in front of him so that it stood upright without any support.
He knelt and meditated for several moments, clearing his mind of all extraneous thought.
When he was ready he reached up, cupped the Bloodstone between both palms, and called out with his mind into the dark night, summoning the beast to his side.
Chapter Fifteen: A Witness in the Dark
On the other side of town, something stirred.
He awakened slowly, ponderously, like a dragon aroused from its enchanted slumber.
He blinked his yellow, cat-like eyes, once, twice, three times.
A voice was calling to him in his mind, a voice he didn’t recognize.
If it had been the old man, he simply would have ignored it, having already decided he would deal with the old fool when the time was right. But this wasn’t the Elder, nor one of his own kind.
So who then?
As far as he knew, the old man and he were the only survivors of the Age of Creation.
Therefore, it had to be a human.
The notion filled him with mild amusement.
Curious, he closed his eyes and relaxed, sloughing off the earthly restraints imposed on his body, sending his awareness soaring out into that dark realm that separates this world from the next; that place out of time, out of space, where the physical laws of reality no longer have any meaning.
In that realm he was free to travel wherever he willed and he used the summons as a beacon, honing in on it, following it to its source.
What he saw there surprised and delighted him.
It also aroused his hunger.
Taking to the sky, he headed in that direction.
In her dream, Katelynn was standing in the cemetery.
It was late at night.
The moon was hanging in the sky, a baleful eye in the darkness. Its cold blue light touched the edges of the gravestones around her, sending their long, solemn shadows across the dew-wet grass in perfect rank and file, reminding her of an army standing watchful and still.
A grim, motionless army.
The air was heavy with their silence.
Feeling this silence all about her, Katelynn grew afraid.
Without knowing why, she began to run, slipping in and out between the gravestones as she raced desperately across the wet grass. Her heart was thumping wildly and the need to scream rose dangerously in her throat.
She managed to stifle it in time, knowing that if she let it loose that he would hear her.
That thought startled her and brought her up short in her headlong flight to lean against the nearest tombstone.
'He’ll hear me?' she asked herself, with a moment’s rational thought. 'Who will hear me?'
She didn’t know. But she did know he was there.
Behind her. In the darkness.
Coming for her.
She had to get away!
A whimper of fear escaped her lips as she pushed away from the headstone and began running again.
The silence behind her changed; became the silence of fear, thick and lazy.
The air grew colder.
She had the unmistakable feeling he was closer now, relentlessly closing the distance between them, and she glanced around frantically, knowing he was out there but unable to find him.
And then she fell.
The night grew still.
Even the trees seemed to be holding their breath, standing immobile, frozen in place.
The light breeze that had been blowing moments before suddenly died.
The crickets stopped their singing.
From where he knelt in the middle of the floor, Hudson Blake opened his eyes and looked around the room.
He was alone.
But he didn’t expect to remain that way for long.
The beast was coming…
The feeling that someone was nearby, watching, struck him suddenly, and he instinctively cringed, reacting to the presence on a primal level, animalistically aware of the nearness of danger.
Coming…coming…coming…
His mind screamed at him to run but he remained where he was, believing he was safe as long as he stayed within the confines of the protective circle he’d created. He grasped the stone tighter between his hands, his knuckles leeched white from the effort, and repeated the name again and again in his mind, calling out to him.
Moloch
Moloch
Moloch
Abruptly, he realized he was no longer alone.
The warmth of life slowly seeped from his frame as he saw the shadow that fell on the wooden floor, the shadow of the large hulking beast that crouched on his balcony rail, its wings swept wide in the moonlight.
Blake could only mutely stare as icy terror swept over him with the swiftness of a cyclone, but it was too late for thoughts of escape.
