Within the mansion, terror reigns. His hair is like the sun, but his eyes are dead as coal. No sparkle, no light. Teeth pearly and enticing. Lips holding an easy smile. Clothes flawless and crisp, shoes polished like mirrors, cuff links gleaming in tailored shirts. The cane tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap. You hear it approaching, but you can’t escape. His power will drain your own until you cannot run any longer. The moment you realize how much power he wields you will try to flee. Too late, you will realize you’ve been running from evil so long the exhaustion overpowers you. Sorrow will come to rest. After your bones are too weary and your mind too spent, he will find you, haunt you, envelop you—

Three hours earlier, Nicholas Kalman had discovered what he now knew to be his father’s journal hidden in the music room of his uncle’s mansion. After reading the leather bound book for the third time, each page now appeared as a separate snapshot locked in his mind, just as every piece of classical music he had studied since the age of five. For Nicholas, the capability of a photographic memory straddled the line of celebration and curse.

Now, he struggled with the chilling realization that the words had been written by a man he had never known…and that these ominous passages were intended for him.