Page 32 of The Final Descent

Page 32

 

  He is there; I feel him, one ten-thousandth of an inch outside my range of vision. I stalk him. He stalks me. The man who wrote these books is not the man who lives in them. That man is the form; Will Henry is the shadow. And now that shadow lives in me.

  And it lives in you.

  Turn around now.

  Will Henry has come home.

 
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