“I’m in the back of a warehouse. I broke into it illegally, and I’m now trapped by some strange ward. Looks like spiderwebs made out of slime. If you were to come and help me with the web, the staff is yours.”

“Give me the address.”

I recited the address.

“I’ll be right there. Don’t touch the staff. Don’t touch the web. Don’t touch anything until I get there.”

I hung up. The dark scary servant of all evil was on his way to rescue me. Somehow that thought failed to make me warm and fuzzy.

I had just finished going through the last box of documents, when the door across the warehouse opened, and Roman called out, “Andrea?”

“In here,” I yelled. “Don’t touch the webs!”

I got up and walked to the office doorway. The large warehouse space with the shelves stretched before me, shrouded in the curtains of the web. I could barely see him. From where I stood, he was merely a gray silhouette in the opposite doorway.

“Okay, okay, I got this.” The silhouette muttered something in Russian. A dull roar issued from Roman’s direction.

Roman’s voice rose, chanting, mixing with the roar.

The webs shuddered. The curtains bent toward Roman, turning concave, as if pulled backward.

Roman’s chant gained power, preternaturally loud, words pouring out, whipping and twisting through the roar like a live current of power.

The curtain of webs snapped taut and broke. Roman stood in the gap, arms spread wide, his black robe flaring as if caught by a ghostly wind. He grasped a wooden staff topped with the head of a monster bird in his right hand. The bird’s beak gaped wide open, filled with darkness and grotesque, so big a watermelon could have fit through it. The pearl-colored web twisted into a knot, sucked into that cavernous mouth.

The floor of the warehouse shuddered. Roman stared straight up, the chant bubbling from his mouth, each word vibrating with power. Splashes of pure darkness swirled around his black boots. Something peered at me through that darkness. Something ancient, malevolent, and cold.

The temperature in the room dropped. I shivered and watched a cloud of vapor escape my mouth.

A choir of deep male voices sang in tune to Roman’s chant. The web kept hurtling into the staff’s mouth.

My hands itched, wanting to release claws. Every hair on my body stood on end.

The warehouse shook.

An enormous bell tolled, a menacing bass note to the choir and the chant. Despair rolled over me like a thick viscous wave. Images fluttered before my eyes: a hill of corpses against the dusk, bright red blood painted over by feathery frost, and a primal dark figure atop the corpse mound…

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the web on the wall flutter behind me, stretching toward Roman.

I dropped down and hugged the floor.