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to turn the black rock to fire. Another memory gnawed at him—twice he’d shattered something with his hands, caused an object to explode without touching it. Each time he’d been driven by anger.
    A Dark Lord . . . It meant he had evil in him, just like his father.
    He felt it now, the incessant desire for blood, the consuming darkness clawing at him, just as he heard the echo of his father’s voice ordering him to succumb to the call. His finely tethered control slipping . . .
    He’d told Clarissa that he was just like the monsters he chased.
    She’d better heed his warning and stay away from him, or she might end up dead at his hands just as his mother had his father’s.
    Pan momentarily shifted his demonic body from the human’s. He thirsted for more. For another kill.
    Then he’d send the dead’s voices to taunt Clarissa until she went completely crazy.
    He waved a hand and morphed down from the mountain, landing in the town square, a ghostlike maze of old buildings, family businesses, and ancient customs passed down through the generations. Smiling, he walked down Main Street, his senses honed as he searched for his next victim.
    Since he’d been in town, he’d borrowed a body. To others, he looked normal. A human. One among them. Disguise made it easy. They trusted him, allowing him to get close to his prey.
    But now, in his demonic form, he slid into the shadows, invisible when he wanted. A pretty redhead he’d heard someone call Sadie Sue rushed toward the small diner, Hell’s Kitchen, and he followed her, the scent of her sex causing his cock to twitch.
    He grinned. All good had to be destroyed. One touch was all he needed. Then he would know the redhead’s darkest secrets.
    And the perfect way to put an end to her miserable existence.
    First the touch, then the taunt, then the kill . . .
    Pan knew exactly when to strike. When the near-dead begged for another moment of life, when they would do anything he asked, when they would make a deal. The ones with the
bad
blood, the weak, the greedy, accepted his terms at all costs.
    Zion would not only survive but thrive, feeding off of each kill. For each soul he collected heightened his power.
    Pan brushed the curve of her back. A cloying, sweet perfume rocked his libido, and he licked his lips.
    As his hand lingered, her mind became an open book, and he skimmed the pages, searching through the cluttered lines. She’d never known her old man. Her mama had died from emphysema four years ago. She had a son named Petey.
    Aha . . . there, he’d found it. Her greatest fear.
    Snakes. She had fallen once in the woods and a rattler had bitten her, and she’d nearly died.
    Laughter mushroomed inside his chest—Eve had been tempted by the forbidden fruit, tricked by a serpent, and this sinner would die at the hands of one herself.
    His pulse thrummed double-time as his gaze veered toward the jagged mountain peaks surrounding Eerie and its miles of forest. Snakes abounded in those hills.
    Pan would watch the terror freeze her veins as the snakes slithered across her naked body.
    Then those snakes would suck the life from her as they fed on her.
    He could hear her silent screams, her pleas for help, see her eyes begging for salvation.
    Maybe this one would trade her soul for the chance to remain alive. And when she made her first kill, she’d be his servant forever.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    N o, no, you’re lying! My little girl can’t be dead . . .” Eloise Canton raced to the oak desk in the kitchen corner, picked up a photo of Tracy at her high school graduation, and waved it at Clarissa. “See, there she is on graduation night. Isn’t she just beautiful?”
    “Yes, Mrs. Canton, but—”
    Tracy’s mother cut her off. “And now she got herself a good job teaching preschool. Gracious, the little children just love her.”
    Clarissa fought tears of sympathy as sixty-year-old Eloise continued to babble in denial.
    Ronnie reached for his mother, extracted the photo,