The fear of being watched got worse as the days went by. It had never been this bad. He was neglecting his duties, but he no longer cared. The thing working at his mind felt like a giant spider digging itself into his skull. He began to feel that only the decapitator could protect him from those prying eyes.

Not long after that he began to see shapes. Vague dancing dots of color at first, then geometric figures with vivid color; tunnels that spun and twisted in the air, dizzying combinations of pulsing reds and blues. The tunnels would convulse and turn into a giant spiderweb in the sky like a sign from God, and then he would see a checkerboard pattern covering the trees, the snow, buildings. He wept openly in awe.

His awe turned to fear as the images changed. The days went by and the brilliant patterns began to hide creatures in the mist of color, terrible things that watched him with giant saucer eyes like black holes. Dark Eyes, he called them. They watched him day and night, hunting him like an animal. Now he knew these feelings were no longer in his head, because he could see them, could see the disembodied eyes peering at him through the blackness. And through the fear he felt a strange sense of validation and euphoria because he hadn’t been crazy after all; he had been right all along. They were out there, and they wanted him.

He hardly slept, and when he did his dreams were filled with the eyes of these creatures. He planned ways to get rid of them forever.

And dreamed of the Mochai, and the decapitator.

CHAPTER FIVE

The St. Lawrence is perhaps the most important waterway in Canada, and it is on this river’s edge that Quebec City was born. The city stands as a testament to another time, enclosed by thick stone walls and crossed by steep, thin streets running down to the water. The houses are old and majestic in some spots, crumbling in others. Holes meant for battle guns dot the top of the old wall, and here and there a cannon still occupies one of them, waiting patiently for a battle that never comes.

The Pierces arrived outside the city just before dusk, when the sun was low in the western sky and the city walls were bathed in orange and red. It couldn’t have been more beautiful. Spring was not due to begin in Eastern Canada for another month, at least, and close to a foot of snow still layered the frozen ground. Their little Toyota’s heater was going full blast. They were tired, but relaxed. Customs had been a simple process of questions and answers. They were allowed to bring in personal belongings, and after a cursory check of the U-Haul, their passports and an explanation from David, the border patrol let them through.