Alex is consumed by mysterious images…On the trail of an abducted 14-year-old girl, psychiatrist Alex Westcott stumbles into a realm of dark magic older than Earth. Gifted with preternatural perception, Alex witnesses a series of bizarre ritual murders. Through the eyes of the killer, Alex sees the unknitting of the world as the completion of rituals over months draws to one dark purpose. One step behind, Alex’s only hope is to reach the last ritual site before the killer can undo the existence of Mankind. Aided by Detective Cory William and the visions of a mute boy comatose by trauma, Alex falls deeper into the nightmare with the strengthening friendship of a cellist, Heather Doyle, to keep him sane. Stalked by a serial killer, Heather’s salvation lies with Alex who’s consumed by the atrocities of the Necromancer. Unwittingly, Heather finds herself caught up in the Necromancer’s finale ritual and his horrifying secret, in a thrilling conclusion.
Opulent, haunting sounds of a cello resonated through the house. Most of the lights were off, Alex did not attempt to turn any on. He shed his shoes by the door.
In the open space of the living room, seated on a chair from the dining room set, Heather played cello, wrapped in the music, oblivious to Alex's entrance. With the few candles surrounding Heather, Alex watched her play while the flames flickered in the current from the open window. She wore a light white linen v-neck dress with her hair scooped off her shoulders and bare feet. The dress rode high on her thighs with her legs gripping the cello. Her vigorous bowing made the dress strap dip down off her shoulder. Heather faced the opened window. The curtains billowed into the room from the breeze. Droplets of rain found their way through the mesh window screen. Like the sprinkles of rainwater, Alex was invisible to Heather. Nothing mattered more to her than the music.
Determination lit her face. A film of perspiration glistened on her forehead and tight, defined muscles of her shoulders as she worked the bow and cello strings.
Enraptured by the beautiful girl creating music, Alex realized he was in love with Heather.
An intense flicker of lightning lit the inside of the house, quickly followed by a sharp clap of thunder as if the lightning bolt struck nearby. Heather screamed out, stopped playing, distracted by nature. She turned to see Alex sitting near the dining room table and screamed out again then laughed at her childishness.
“Jesus! You scared the shit out of me.”
Alex, still held fast by the beauty trembling now, saturated in sweat, was unable to speak.
“What’s the matter?” A look of horror crossed her face.
“Nothing,” Alex assured her. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen someone play with so much passion.”
Heather laughed as if Alex started a joke. Then she helped Alex with the punch line. “I’ve been told I look like I’m trying to fuck my cello.”
Again, Alex stayed quiet. The playful smile on Heather’s face in the candlelight allowed Alex free run of fantasies. It was as if she understood that even smart men were little boys when it came to images of women.