Rush Bizner jerked up in bed and coughed as if someone had set his throat and lungs on fire. At first he thought he’d gone to sleep with a cigarette still stuck between his lips, but remembered he hadn’t smoked in at least twenty years. The dream of Kristy engulfed in flames suddenly roared through his mind, followed by the certainty that Helena was in danger. He rolled over and tumbled off the bed, smacked his head on the floor, and bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

Shit, why does this always happen in the middle of the night? And why do I always fall off the damn bed?

Evil only comes out in the dark.

Bullshit. He’d seen plenty of evil in the light of day while in the military.

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