Entering the concrete tunnel, the predator peered forward into the gloom. Its eyes shone softly amber-green, not as bright here as in moonlight, dimmer than glow-in-the-dark paint, but vaguely radiant.
Chrissie wondered how well it could see in absolute darkness. Surely its gaze could not penetrate eighty or a hundred feet of lightless pipe to the place where she crouched. Vision of that caliber would be SUPERNATURAL.
It stared straight at her.
Then again, who was to say that what she was dealing with here was not SUPERNATURAL? Perhaps her parents had become …
werewolves.
She was soaked in sour sweat. She hoped the stench of the dead animal would screen her body odor.
Rising from all fours into a crouch, blocking most of the silvery moonlight at the drain entrance, the stalker slowly
