There was a knock at the door. Steve gasped. He looked up. In the sunlight, behind the panel curtain, was a shadow. Only its silhouette was visible, waiting, motionless. The silhouette … of a boy? Steve sat in the hallway, paralyzed with fear. And he wished it would go away. Oh, God, please—if only he could make it go away. What awaited him there was not his son, and what he felt was not love, but a fathomless abyss that was opening beneath him and was much, much deeper than love. The knock came again. A slow, loud thud—only one. He saw the shadow of knuckles resting on the windowpane. Steve
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Last paragraphs. Doom for Steve as he becomes the next witch
