Dovecrest allowed the two men to lead him back to his cabin. Nothing had gone according to plan, he thought, but at least he had saved the girl undue suffering. If only his aim had been a little better and he could have killed the leader. But he knew even that wouldn’t have mattered in the end. It would have just found another leader, and the girl still would have been sacrificed.
He trudged through the wood between the two men and wondered how he was going to explain it to them. They wouldn’t believe. Surely they wouldn’t believe. And when he tried to take them back to show them, all of the evidence would be gone. Or else they would think he was the one who killed the girl.
Still, he had to try, though. He couldn’t win any other way. The demon was too powerful for him, even now, and it wasn’t even fully transformed yet. It would only become stronger with each new sacrifice, and he would be powerless to do anything to stop it.
The few hundred yards back seemed endless. His mind was still reeling from the shock he’d experienced when the thing had entered his mind. It had felt like a sharp, red-hot needle being thrust directly into his brain. The thing had taken him over completely, making him shoot the pistol harmlessly into the air while he watched the girl bleed to death on the slab. Then, when all of his ammo was gone and his mind was virtually writhing in agony, it had turned him loose, just as suddenly as it had taken him over. The thing had left one thought in his mind-that it was as easy as that for it to take control of him at any time. The message had been clear-you can go free for now, but I can have you back whenever I want you. And I can make every moment of your life a living hell.
Finally, he saw the lights of his cabin come into view and he knew he was home free, at least for now. Tomorrow would be another story. But he didn’t want to think that far ahead. All he could think of was a hot cup of steaming black coffee and sitting down at the table to unburden his soul to these two men, who probably thought he was either lying or insane, either a criminal or a maniac. But he no longer cared what they thought. The time had come to tell his story.