PROLOGUE

Dusk.

A single figure stood at the curb, waiting, watching. It was a quiet night for late fall, especially on a Friday; usually cars full of teenagers would be rushing along the streets blasting out rap music every half-hour. But this time, the city seemed empty, quiet...barren.

His eyes scanned the curb, finally stopping at a familiar house—the house his little brother had been going to for weeks, now, always after school, sometimes not even coming home until late evening. The boy had always wondered why Mac had never gotten busted once, but he figured as the elder he had to take charge—or face the consequences. Not that he enjoyed it...

Absentmindedly running a hand through his ebony hair, the young teen crossed the street, heading in the direction of the house. No sooner had he reached the midpoint, however, then a gust of wind blew past, ruffling his clothes and causing a slight chill to run down his spine.

Then the voice. Oh god, the voice.

It had been years since he had heard the voice—ever since he accidentally wandered into an alley when he was five. Needless to say, his first encounter with the voice had scared the shit out of him and he had run nonstop for five blocks, screaming at the top of his lungs. He could still remember the freezing feeling he had received when he first heard it...every now and again it would come again, a single chill that ran down through him as if his veins had been injected with liquid nitrogen.

Déjà vu, he had thought. Just a figment of my imagination, is all.

He was wrong.

The voice came again, this time right behind him, cold breath hissing down his neck:

"It's not a dream, BOY."

He froze in fear, then quickly whipped around, one fist raised. The street was empty.

Hallucinations, he thought, closing his eyes tightly. I'm having hallucinations. It's nothing to be afraid of. Now just get your stupid little brother before—

A clanking sound was heard from down the street—a familiar noise that he had heard many times before in his dreams. The grinding of rusted chains. Drawing his arms around himself, he whipped in the direction of the noise.

All remained silent for a few precious moments. Then a pair of emerald-green lights appeared in the darkness beyond the streetlight. At first he had just thought that they were the tinted headlights some cars had, but as they drew closer, he found that his guess was in vain.

There was nothing left to do but run.

Turning back around, he bolted down the street, panting in fear, cold sweat trickling down the side of his face despite the weather. The clanking of the chains followed him. Lowering his head, shutting his eyes tightly, he ran faster, ignoring the searing pain he was beginning to feel from his lower body. Screw Mac; he had to get home. He had to run.

He had successfully crossed the block when he accidentally bumped into a pedestrian—a middle-aged man, accidentally causing him to drop his hat and the briefcase he was carrying. The teen, meanwhile, had tripped in the process, landing hard on the asphalt. As he drew himself up, still breathing harshly, the man looked down at him with a scowl.

"Watch where you're going, you little—"he began, but he was interrupted quickly.

"Get away from here!" the teen shrieked, quickly pushing past him. "It's coming! It's coming, dammit!"

"What's coming?!" the man demanded, but the boy paid no attention to him; instead, he focused on the thing behind him. Uttering a low cry, he quickly shielded his face.

The streetlight went out. Thinking fast, he quickly dove into a nearby bush.

He heard the man's voice.

"What on earth...? What is this? Who are you—OH GOD!"

A loud screech pierced the silence, followed by a loud CRUNCH sound—the sound of something being snapped in two with brute force.

The screeching faded, dying with a bloody gargling sound.

Quaking with fear, the boy buried his face in his hands as he heard several more noises—the slicing of soft tissue. The disgusting sound of something being dug into. Several twisting and creaking sounds. He tried to block it all out, but his efforts were in vain.

It was real. Lord, it was real.

The clanking ceased. A light breeze blew by, carrying the horrid, coppery smell of blood with it. Heart racing, body shivering, the teen slowly crawled out of the bush...and ended up stepping into something warm and wet.

Oh, god, no...

He staggered to his feet and looked around. The streetlight flashed back on the moment his gaze hit the sidewalk.

He gave a loud gasp and leapt back, feeling faint, dizzy, nauseated.

The man he had accidentally slammed into was dangling by the streetlight, intestines ripped out and used as a noose. His clothes had been ripped to shreds; his abdomen split open, causing his entrails to dangle freely. His neck had been snapped in two...compound fracture, to be precise. It seemed like every bone in his body had been broken.

"Ugh..." he muttered, clutching his stomach with both hands. His balance weakened; he swayed back and forth, and his legs finally gave way and buckled underneath him. He fell in the blood-soaked gutter, unconscious.

The streetlight went out again.

A demonic cackle was then heard from further down the road...