In front of them, a large dark thing raised itself like an animal and leaped at the windshield.

Frames braced himself on the steering wheel. “Fucking shit!”

The thing on the hood rose up. For a moment it stood over them. Then it dove off the car, vanishing into the darkness, toward the trees.

Frames pulled his gun from his holster and jerked open the car door. “Let’s go,” he whispered.

Eden had stopped breathing when the thing hit the hood. Now she gasped for breath, her lap burning from the hot tea. Holding a gun in one hand, she stepped outside. The oak grove was dense black.

Frames was gone. How was she supposed to back him up? Was she too slow? Why didn’t he wait?

She listened for Frames. Once she heard someone running. Then it was quiet. Her heart pounded. She slowed her breathing and listened. Close by, small creatures moved in the dry leaves.

She walked around the car, keeping one hand in contact with its body. She thought of going back inside for a flashlight. She thought of calling for Frames. But she did neither. She pictured the dead woman on the bench across the lake. Had her last minutes been like this? She pushed the thought away. They’re being tested, Frames said. This is a test.

As she stood beside the passenger door, facing the front of the car, she felt a change in the air behind her. It made no sound. She had a faint sense of a solid thing in the space at her back where, a moment before, the air had moved. She tried to breathe slowly and check her senses. She felt it, still there. She thought of the cord used to strangle the girls two years earlier, how it had come from behind before they knew it. Where’s Frames?

She turned.

Beside the car’s rear door stood a large black figure, a foot taller and looming over her. In the darkness, she could not see what it was, only the outline of something darker than the woods and sky. The shape looked like a man wrapped in rags, smelling of mold and rottenness. The figure had not moved since she faced it.

Eden stepped back a few feet and raised her gun. Where’s Frames?

The instincts of her firearms training kicked in: keep your shooting finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire. Her hands shook too much to feel the guard. Pointing the wobbly gun toward the thing, she said, “Police officer.” The words came out in a child’s high, thin voice.

The black thing stood still and silent. Then, from the top of the rags came a deep, growling sound. It said, “Faideela.”

Chapter Ten

(i)

(WEDNESDAY, 1:17 A.M.)