Charles W. Prather

Jacody Ives had never had to wonder whether evil existed. He was born knowing it was there. A cunning predator, silently stalking its prey. Lurking in the shadows. Waiting. Patiently waiting for the delicate balance to shift. Give it power. Grant it life. Feeding on lies and manipulation. Anger and hate. Growing stronger as it chipped away at the soul. Destroying the light until there was nothing left but the darkness.

Evil attracts evil. He’d heard its call in the nightmare. The girl was dead, but she wanted something from him. “Please. . .”, she whispered. A small prayer in the darkness.