Excerpt
Chapter 1


Naomi Thompson pushed her limbs through the heavy atmosphere, driven by stark terror. Her hands flailed in the dark as she groped for the light switch. Finally she found it. Click. Darkness! Terror plunged deep into Naomi's heart. Waves of vertigo assaulted her as she toppled against the bedroom door.


Reeling, Naomi grabbed the door knob, steadying herself before opening the door, desperate to escape the surreal darkness. Soft green light flooded her vision as she stepped into the hallway. She made her way through the living room, every step draining more of her already waning energy. Naomi's mind raced to find a reasonable explanation for the bizarre happenings. She kept moving, slow and steady, toward the kitchen and the back door - her only possible means of escape. Trying to leave the house by the front door would mean certain death - the Watcher would be waiting for her there.


Naomi turned and ran to the kitchen, her mind desperate for any shred of normalcy. She stopped dead in her tracks as she faced the source of unearthly light - the microwave oven's clock. Her blood ran cold as she stared at the appliance, not wanting to look, yet unable to turn away. Time froze. Her mind whirled, threatening another bout of vertigo. Then - darkness!


Naomi's skin crawled. The hair on her arms and neck stood on end as the air sprang to life around her. Pain exploded in her right shoulder without warning. Her hand clenched in agony as talons gripped her, jerking her backward, deeper into the terror she could not escape.


She opened her mouth and tried to scream before the terror consumed her, but her throat betrayed her, holding her cries hostage. Mark! Help me! God, help me!




Naomi laid in bed, jerking restlessly, muffled cries escaping her throat in an attempt to rouse herself from the nightmare. But Terror still had her firmly in his grasp, his talons sunk deep into the base of her skull. His ecstasy swelled as he manipulated Naomi's vulnerable mind. Thrusting his bony claws deeper into Naomi's mind, Terror crouched close to her ear, whispering a familiar tale to her mind - a tale he had been speaking to Naomi for most of her life, each word pregnant with soul-gripping horror.


Furious scratching invaded Terror's reverie. His grip loosened as the noise penetrated the cobwebs he had spun in Naomi's mind. Terror reluctantly withdrew his talons as desiccated wings carried his twisted body to his assigned vantage point - the bookcase in the den.