Deborah was sure it was a demon from Hell, barely disguised in human form, that lunged for her. There seemed to be pure hatred in the wild, bloodshot eyes. And the blood, all the blood…
A red-stained hand came up and grabbed a handful of her hair. Deborah’s head was wrenched back, her throat bared. The demon’s enraged face came close to hers.
The monster bellowed, “die, witch!” Rank breath and spittle assailed her.
Deborah was vaguely aware of Emily screaming beside her. The demon raised its other hand, which gripped a gore-splattered cleaver. Time seemed to slow as she looked at the blunt, heavy blade that gleamed dully in the gray light.
Then Dobbs was there, one huge hand grabbing the demon’s wrist to arrest the slashing arc of t...
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