CHAPTER SIX
“Madden? Madden!” Eva turned back to her companions. “He's not there.”
“He was just there,” Swanson said, by all accounts as confused as she was. He called on the pilot to circle around.
The helicopter banked. Eva was thankful she had hold of the inside of the helicopter as for a moment she was face-down above Lake Geneva, air the only buffer between her and the lakes’ frozen surface. Below them, the lake was solid around the feet of the demon, black blood running over the ice, repelled as if it were oil. Of the boat, only a smashed hull poked through.
“What if he's in there?” Eva quelled her panic with deep breaths.
“He's not,” Swanson answered, “and he's not on the ice, so he can't be down there; the ice stretches too far. He would have been a mess had he hit the surface
