It reached out and hit him, sending him across the clearing. The gun fell onto the ground at the far edge of the wood line.

Steve scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide and darting around the cove until they fell on the dagger. He moved to retrieve it, wrapping his hand around the handle just as the beast came for him. He backed slowly away with the dagger in hand and it stopped in the center of the pentacle.

“You.” It pointed its claw. “You need to die.” The ground shook as the words rumbled from its chest.

Steve blinked but didn’t respond. The scent of fire and rotting meat radiated from the beast, filling Steve’s nostrils from fifteen feet away.

This is NOT possible!

The temperature in the clearing plummeted to the point where he could see his ragged breath hanging in the air in front of him. He shivered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Yet the ground singed with each step the beast took, filling the air with the stench of burnt moss. He took an involuntary step backwards, his chest still oozing from both stab wounds. As he held the dagger in his hand, pointing it at the thing, his eyes darted between the blade and the beast’s hands. It seemed like such an inadequate weapon against the razor-sharp claws at the end of the demon’s fingers.

It changed its form, morphing, altering, solidifying.

Steve gaped at Peg. Peg with red eyes.

He blinked again, his mind unable to wrap itself around what he was seeing. He lowered the dagger a fraction of an inch. Sirens deep inside raged and he brought the blade back up in response.

“You killed that little girl,” Steve said.

“She was so sweet, innocent, and pure.” It breathed and stepped forward, still taking the shape of his dead fiancé.

Steve could smell its breath. “You are not Peg,” he said with conviction.

It took another step forward and the outline of the pentacle began to glow.

Steve stared at the ground and stepped forward, within the lines of the pentacle, bringing his gaze back to the demon, praying whatever the demon did, it would be quick, but the gleam in the beast’s eyes, promised otherwise.

It laughed and struck out, sending Steve flying to the far edge of the pentacle. The beast’s claws left deep cuts along his face, neck, and chest, and burning agony ripped through his skin. He struggled to his feet and stepped back into the circle, the knife grasped in his hand and his throat closing in pain. His breath wheezed and he took another step forward, allowing his blood to drip on the sacred ground.

“She’s mine, not yours,” Steve gasped pointing the dagger in its direction.

The beast charged.

“Leave him alone,” Jennifer’s voice rang through the clearing and the beast spun in her direction.

* * * *

Jennifer gulped, staring down the beast from her nightmares. It paused, lifted its nose in the air and sniffed. A feral smile stretched across its face, revealing sharp jagged teeth like a shark.

The beast stepped toward her. “I want to hear you scream for eternity,” it said.

Jennifer froze and began to shake. This thing was in my closet!

It laughed. “Yes, I was there.” It approached her.

“Don’t touch her,” Steve said and stumbled, dropping to his hands and knees.

Its smile faded. “She is mine.” The beast reached out, grasping her wrist and pulled her forward.

“I belong to Steve,” she said, straightening her back and glaring at the beast despite the burning pain where it clasped her wrist.

“You were supposed to be mine two years ago,” it growled and morphed into the form of Tom. “I died for you,” it said.

Jennifer stared, her mouth dropping and the fear transitioning to shock as she stared into deep dark eyes. Even his voice was accurate, but the stench of burning flesh and moss yanked her back to reality. She popped her mouth closed and leveled a glare, ripping her arm from his grip. She stepped forward, shoving the image in front of her.

Her hands burnt. “I hate you!” she screamed in its face.

The beast roared transitioning back into the black form, jerking away. In its fury, it picked her up and threw her across the clearing.

Her legs smashed into a tree trunk, whipping her around and Jennifer yelped when she landed on the ground. Pain gripped her legs and she didn’t dare look at the damage. Her breath locked in her chest and she struggled to bring air to her lungs. Her mind systematically shut down and everything went fuzzy.

* * * *

Steve climbed to his feet and took a step in her direction, the pain etched in her features sent a surge of anger through him, overriding any sense of fear and he turned on the demon, meeting its fiery glare.

“You tainted her,” it said, pointing a claw in his direction.

“I guess drinking the blood of Palawion’s descendant probably didn’t help.” He flipped the dagger so he held the sharp edge, reading himself.

Its eyes narrowed, falling to the wounds traversing across Steve’s chest and face and to the blood dripping on the ground. It took an unsteady step backwards.

Steve grinned. “Yes. I read up on you. On what could send you back into the bowels of hell.” Steve pitched the dagger through the air and into the beast’s chest. The dagger sunk through the demon’s skin and it roared with fury, lumbering toward him.

Steve lost his balance, falling to his knees. In vain, he attempted to stand, but he crumbled to his hands and knees. The demon grabbed a fist full of hair, yanking him up and slowly running its claws down his back, ripping the flesh open. Steve shrieked, his voice filled with pain and panic.

“You’re coming to hell with me,” it seethed. Letting go of his hair, it raised its arm to strike the final blow.

* * * *

Jennifer saw the gun through the haze—it was the only thing clear in her line of sight. She picked it up and aimed at the beast. Clenching her teeth, she held on to consciousness with bitter determination, believing the bullet could kill the thing in the clearing. She said a silent prayer, asking God to make her shot true, and yelled, “Go to hell you son of a bitch!”

When it turned toward her voice, she squeezed the trigger. The noise and light that filled the clearing astounded her.

The bullet cut through the dark, leaving a trail of white light in its path, piercing the beast where a human heart would be. The impact lifted it off its feet, sending it catapulting through the air into the center of the black water. White light seared the blackness as it hit the surface, sending waves of clear water in every direction, drenching Steve.

* * * *

When he crumbled to the ground, the impact sent pain to every surface. He opened his eyes in time to see Jennifer’s eyes roll up into her head and the gun slip out of her hand and onto the black moss.

Pulling himself to his feet, he stumbled to her. Picking her up in his arms, he headed in the direction of Paradise Cove and his grandfather’s cabin. When he stepped out of the perimeter of Black Cove, the water seeped into the basin, leaving a muddy, murky sinkhole. The remnants of centuries of the demon’s carnage were visible for all to see.

Each step required Herculean effort. His arms burned from holding her, the torn skin of his chest and back screamed, threatening to drop him on the spot. He stumbled, caught his balance, and kept moving because he knew if he stopped, he’d die without knowing she was safe.

Please God, please God, please God.

He prayed with each step and when he entered Paradise Cove, he began to cry. Great sobs fought the air for space in his ruined chest. The path to his grandfather’s place seemed like an impossible feat, but when he stepped onto the lawn from the edge of the woods and saw the FBI lights and the central command station in the yard, he collapsed to his knees.

His last coherent thought before all went black, Thank you, God.