“Uh, George, a little help here,” Pete said. His voice was low, but the strain and fear came through loud and clear.
“Damn it, we need Billy!” I hissed in frustration. The man standing in front of me was thin and pale, with sallow skin that bore the scabs and scars of a longtime d**g user. He gave me a wicked grin that showed a mouth full of rotted teeth, giving him a haunted look, which made sense…after all, he was being haunted. A short time ago, his wasted and abused body probably couldn"t have hurt anything bigger than a fly, but since he"d been possessed by a demon from the 1880s, he could do all sorts of things, like trying to kill yours truly. He held a piece of rebar he"d picked up at the mouth of the alley when he and his two companions chased us into it. Now he was rushing me, w
