In part 3 of the Ravenswood series, George Dabrowski has a problem, a very terrifying one.
One Texas night he picks up a woman on his Harley on his drive east. That morning she is violently murdered in front of his eyes by a terrible, vengeful spirit.
The bloodthirsty ghost tells him he and his former Marine compatriots are to pay for causing her death in Grenada back in 1983. Running for his life, George gathers together his old squad mates, including one Noah Ravenswood, practicing wizard and occultist. But when the specter traps them in Noah’s shop, he and his associate, Dr. Sarah Booking, have only hours to uncover the truth. What is behind the wraith’s attacks and is one of his old comrades a serial killer and rapist?
Can they solve the mystery before the killer strikes again?
There, standing completely nude in the pale dawn light, was Lisa. She was facing him and her body was quivering like she was having some sort of seizure. George watched in horror as a pair of dark gray arms emerged from her stomach-- and the hands on the ends of those arms obscenely caressed Lisa’s ample chest. Blood ran down from the wounds that the arms had made in her stomach as those hands, pitch-black, clutched more like talons than fingers into the meat of the ex-barmaid’s bosom. Lisa’s eyes widened; they silently begged and pleaded with George to do something. A ragged rush of air passed between her clenched teeth as she found the strength to breathe.
“George,” she softly cried as the color of her flesh became pallor with a sickening speed.
“What the fuck!” the big man spat, and he ran forward. As he approached, a creature’s face appeared over Lisa’s right shoulder.
The long wild black hair framed a dark expanse that was twisted into a hateful sneer. The thing had no eyes, just twin wells of deep darkness on either side of its nose. It smoked; rolls of gray steam seemed to waft off of the thing’s body, creating a strange misty background to accent Lisa’s trembling, pale skin. Lisa’s body shook even harder and blood erupted from her lips, painting her chin a dreadful crimson.
“Aaarrgggh,” the twenty-year old softly gurgled before slumping lifeless in the apparition’s hold.
The phantom smiled; it was horrible to behold and made George’s blood run icily in his veins. It lifted up Lisa’s limp form and tossed her aside like the wadded up remains of a fast food meal.
“George Dabrowski,” it hoarsely whispered with a chilling voice. “Do you remember me…?”
“No!” he shouted at the figure creeping upon the ground towards him. “I-it can’t be! You’ve been dead for… t-twenty-four years!”
“No, not dead,” it whispered in that terrible tone. “Just searching, searching and wandering until I could find those who murdered me. You will lead me to them all, George Dabrowski… I will have my revenge upon all of you!”
“Fuck off!” he screamed at the smoking gray spirit. “They’re my brothers! I’ll never help you kill us all!”
George ran to the bike and jumped upon it. He fired it up with a roar and tore off down the road as if his ass was on fire. Behind him he could hear the creature laugh. It was one of the few sounds he would never forget. It was more of a coughing bark than a laugh, but a laugh it was all the same