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An ancient evil has awakened . . .
Police Chief Dexter Lowe enjoys his humdrum job in the sleepy little town of Gator Creek, Florida, until a kidnapper begins terrorizing the local women. FBI Special Agent Teddi McCoy arrives to help him hunt down the mysterious kidnapper. After failing to secure any leads, they are forced to recruit the FBI's ace-in-the-hole psychic from the Louisiana Bayou, Jackson "Swamp Jack" Lafevre.
Aided by the eccentric LaFevre's remarkable visions, they track the kidnapper to an isolated island on the eastern edge of the Florida Everglades. A key with an eerie and violent past. Demon Key. A place where the kidnapper's victims have mysteriously vanished. Forever.
After finally dispatching the kidnapper, their exhilaration soon plummets to the depths of terror as the key reveals its greatest horror . . . a sinister creature so powerful and vile that Gator Creek's only hope of survival . . . must come from the past.
She decided that terrifying best described it. When they reached the bottom, John pointed down a narrow tunnel. “It’s that way.” Jilly nodded. She didn’t know whether the cool water or absolute fear quivered her bottom lip, but she sloshed after John anyway. One thing she did know. This wasn’t that nice dry dig in France. The water level reached her shoulders as they entered a cavern. John flashed his beam around so she could get a feel for the circular chamber’s size. “Does the water get any
they don’t have any natural enemies.” Ryan laughed and wandered deeper into the yard. Teddi stared at Jackson, who stood out like a sore thumb in his all-white attire. The psychic knows what was out there earlier, or at least has a damn good idea. That was a given. But why did he need that slug? That still puzzled her. The others drifted toward the Everglades. “Jesus , Mary, and Joseph!” Ryan cried out. “What the hell did that?” All the beams fell upon the wooden walkway; it was crushed into
behind him. He turned his head. “Get back, all of you. I don’t want anybody getting shot!” he yelled at them. Several teachers and administrators herded the students back to safety. “You’ve got too many witnesses this time, Swinson, to get away with this. And, we know where you live,” Jackson shouted. Bo considered that for a brief second. “It don’t make any difference now,” he claimed. “I’ve got ways to disappear.” “And what about your victims — sacrifices? If you abandon them, what will
Swinson. But who? He looked so familiar, and yet . . . He nervously wiped his face again. Maybe he would find the answer in Brazil. But there was one detail he was clear about. Teddi had lied to him. That was her blood in the vial Dr. George had given him. Jackson had sensed it briefly before the orange eyes appeared. But why would Teddi try to deceive him? Or was it someone else in her mind controlling her? “What . . . what’s the matter, Jackson? I lost you there for a minute.” Teddi asked,
on the condition that he get plenty of bed rest. Yeah, right! Teddi was a different story. Her muscles were weak from weeks of coma inactivity, and Dr. George suggested that she return to Washington and receive treatment there, but Jackson realized that relocation was too dangerous. The person behind Swinson’s death and Teddi’s coma was intent on killing them all before the grotto lake rose another fraction of an inch and activated the temple. Splitting up would make them easier targets. He