"Do you know what I am," asked the voice, and Amber pulled her covers tighter.
She didn't know. The curtains were drawn. There was no moonlight, so she couldn't see anything.
But she could still hear.
"Do you know what I am," croaked the voice, and Amber flinched as a floorboard groaned.
It was inside her room.
Inside her room. Impossible. The door was closed, and she never opened the window.
"Do you know what I am," whispered the voice, and Amber felt something cold and leathery pinch her cheek.
Rotten flesh? Blackened nails?
Demon claws?
Amber wanted to lean over, turn on her bedside lamp. She wanted the light. Its protection.
But all she got were leathery hands gripping her shoulders, hard enough to hurt.
"I am," chuckled the voice, close enough to tickle her ear. "I am here."
The hands gripped her pretty little throat.
