It was that mark, that mixing of blood, that had freed the thing trapped centuries before. For seven nights it had stormed through Hawkins Hollow.

They thought they’d beaten it, three ten-year-old boys against the unholy that infected the town. But it came back, seven years later, for seven more nights of hell. Then returned again, the week they’d turned twenty-four.

It would come back again this summer. It was already making itself known.

But things were different now. They were better prepared, had more knowledge. Only it wasn’t just him, Cal, and Gage this time. They were six with the three women who’d come to the Hollow, who were connected by ancestry to the demon, just as he, Cal, and Gage were connected to the force that had trapped it.

Not kids anymore, Fox thought as he pulled up to park in front of the townhouse on Main Street that held his office and his apartment. And if what their little band of six had been able to pull off a couple weeks before at the Pagan Stone was any indication, the demon who’d once called himself Lazarus Twisse was in for a few surprises.

After grabbing his briefcase, he crossed the sidewalk. It had taken a lot of sweat and considerable financial juggling for Fox to buy the old stone townhouse. The first couple of years had been lean-hell, they’d been emaciated, he thought now. But they’d been worth the struggle, the endless meals of PB and J, because every inch of the place was his-and the Hawkins Hollow Bank and Trust’s.

The plaque at the door read FOX B. O’DELL, ATTORNEY AT LAW. It could still surprise him that it had been the law he’d wanted-more that it had been small-town law.

He supposed it shouldn’t. The law wasn’t just about right and wrong, but all the shades between. He liked figuring out which shade worked best in each situation.