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(of course they were because it “mutilated” a horse in a field off the interstate near Pearce).

Its talons were locked into the robe I’d passed out in and its wings were fanning themselves and it wasn’t the length of the wingspan that shocked me at that moment (it had grown—I accepted that within a second) but it was the wings webbed with black veins bulging tightly beneath the doll’s skin (the doll’s skin, yes, tell this to a sane person and see their reaction) and pulsing with blood that amazed me.Advertisement

According to Robby, when he turned on the lamp the thing was motionless. And then it quickly rotated its head toward him—the wings were already outstretched, the mouth was already opening itself—and, when he spoke, the doll returned its focus on me.

I shouted out and knocked the thing off my chest as I bolted up.

The Terby fell to the floor and quickly clawed itself under the bed.

I stood up, panting, frantically brushing something nonexistent from my torn robe.

Except for the sounds I was making it was silent in the house.

But then I heard it too. The mewling.

“Dad?” Robby asked.

My nonanswer was interrupted when we heard something rushing up the stairs.

From where Robby and I stood looking out from the doorway of the master bedroom a shadow—maybe three feet high—was coming toward us in the dim, flickering light; it was shambling sideways along the wall and as it got closer to us the mewling turned into hissing.

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“Victor?” I asked, disbelieving. “It’s Victor, Robby. It’s only Victor.”

“It’s not Victor, Dad.”

According to Robby, I said, “Then what the hell is it?”

The thing paused as if it was contemplating something.

It was 2:30 when the electricity went out.

The entire house was plunged into blackness.

I uselessly reached for a light switch. I was weaving on my feet.

“Mom keeps a flashlight in her drawer,” Robby said quickly.

“Just stand still. Just stay where you are.” I attempted a normal voice.

I jumped onto the bed and reached for Jayne’s nightstand drawer. I opened it. My hand found the flashlight. I grabbed it. I immediately turned it on, aiming the beam at the floor, scanning for the Terby.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

Robby followed behind me as I aimed the flashlight at whatever was in the hallway. (But I had done this inadvertently—because in those brief moments spent looking for the flashlight in the blackened room I had forgotten that something was waiting for us there.)

This is when we briefly glimpsed it.

Robby was never sure what he actually saw in the glare of the flashlight. He was “hiding” behind me, his eyes squeezed shut, and the thing moved away from the beam of light as if offended by it—as if darkness was all it knew and what it thrived on.

The vodka was straining my senses. “Victor?” I whispered again, trying to convince myself. Robby was shivering against me. “Robby, it’s okay. It’s just the dog.”

But when I said this we both heard Victor barking from outside.

According to Robby this was when he began crying—when he realized that the thing in the hallway was not his dog.

I persisted. “Victor, come here. Come on, Vic.” This was the alcohol making concessions.

According to Robby this was when he heard me mutter: “No f**king way.”

It was three feet high and covered in hair streaked black and blond, and it moved on feet that weren’t visible. When the beam of light caught it, there was another hissing sound. It shambled quickly to the other side of the hallway. But with each movement it was advancing toward us.

The thing stiffened when the beam from the flashlight caught it again. I couldn’t tell where the hissing came from. Once it stopped hissing its entire body began to shudder.

According to Robby I was saying, “Oh shit oh shit oh shit.”

It turned toward me, this time defiantly. It was waist high and shapeless—a mound. It was covered with hair entangled with twigs and dead leaves and feathers. It had no features. A cloud of gnats were buzzing above the thing, following it to where it had pushed itself up against the wall. The beam was locked on it.

Within the hair, a bright red hole ringed with teeth appeared.

The mouth opening, the baring of its teeth, I realized—with a sickening clarity that immediately sobered me up—was a warning.

And then it rushed toward us, blindly.

I was frozen in place. Robby was holding on to me, his arms wrapped around my lower chest. He was shaking. pqdm.com