Some monsters are real. Colchester is one of them. He’s the source of all their nightmares, in one way or another. She and Danny had been forced to expand their worldviews to include magic and horror and demons smiling back at them, to see parts of their small town they’d never imagined before. Colchester was the evil that wormed through all of Middleton when they were kids. He’d lived in the town for at least a century, wearing a human face like a mask. Impossible, but very, very real.

Then, on New Year’s Eve, their senior year, they stood together and stood in his way as he tried to drown them all, the whole world, in darkness.

They won. Barely. To everyone else, it looked like a tragedy, the most horrible thing ever to happen in Middleton’s charmed history. The only other people who knew the truth were dead. Which is why their classmates look at them funny. All anyone knows is that the four of them were involved, somehow. And whatever else happened, they hadn’t stopped it. Whatever they’d done, it wasn’t enough.

Carrie and the others knew better. Despite the bodies and the blood, it could have been so much worse. The cost was high — way too high — but they won. They killed Colchester.

It was probably too much to ask that he’d stay dead.

“How?” is all Carrie says.

“Merlin said he’s using a kid like me,” Eric says.

“Disturbed?” Danny asks.

Eric gives him the finger. “You know. Magic. He’s tapping into the kid’s power to bring himself back to life. Like a parasite. Then he’ll be the new servant of The End, and they’ll try to do it all again. The death, the ritual, the destruction. End of the World, Part Two: Bigger, Longer, Uncut.”

“Dr. Edgar Sax is back, too,” Danny says. “Or at least, some version of him.”

Alana frowns. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Danny says. “He seems to be a ghost. But ghosts don’t exist. So clearly that can’t be it.”

Carrie knows it’s useless to press for details. Danny won’t commit to saying anything if he’s not sure of his hypothesis. And it’s enough to know that a sociopathic genius has apparently come back from the dead as well.

Alana rolls her eyes at him, then rolls up her sleeve. There’s a bite mark, already fading, but it had to have been deep if they can see it at all. “Hellhounds,” she says. “Things are out there, bumping in the night.”

“And the Followers are active,” Carrie says. “Three dead so far. At least.”

“You sure?” Danny asks.

She gives him a look. “Please. Who are you talking to here?”

“Right. Stupid question. Sorry. What about the police?” he says. “Do they know?”

“Carl Stuckey is the chief now.”