Hugh B. Cave
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Evil stirs in the heart of paradise.
To plantation caretaker Peter Sheldon, St. Alban is a lush Caribbean jewel...but suddenly, all is not what it seems.
A crime wave is sweeping the villages . . . and a mysterious green fog is terrifying natives on the mountain paths. A group of children has vanished while hiking near Black Rock Peak. The twin of one missing boy lies seething with fever in the village below-dreaming of a cold, wet hell filled with terrible green light.
Ma Jarrett, wise in the ways of old island magic, is beginning to believe the stories of a "Devil's Pit" high in the mountains—and so is Peter. His own mind has been touched by the malevolent force in the fog, with almost deadly results. Soon, both will know the truth behind the legends.
Satan is alive and well and gathering souls for his dark army. Ma Jarrett and Peter Sheldon must find a way to stop him—or his fury will sweep the world!
Bronzie?" "Yes, squire. It happen before." "I can't believe it." "Mr. Peter, Gerald is not in no cold, wet place where he can't move. He is home in bed." How to answer her? Silence took over again while they descended to the vale. In the dark, the old stone church there loomed like a fortress. "She lives on the gap road, Bronzie?" "Yes, squire." He passed the church and turned left, shifting to low gear at once for the climb. Even under normal conditions, this was a road few drivers ever
he had not reached this place by accident. Since losing contact with Danny and Wesley, he had been told what to do, every step of the way. Maybe—yes, maybe the voice was even responsible for his being separated from them in the first place. "All right, all right!" Was that his own voice, babbling in surrender? "All right. . . please. . . I'm coming." "Put out your light. There is no need for childish things here." He thumbed the switch and the voice was right; he didn't need the flashlight
operated on for a burst appendix. Young Corporal Clement MacQuarrie, slim as a ballet dancer from rigorous training at the St. Alban police school, frowned in disbelief and said, "You want me to pass this along to the army, Mr. Sheldon?" "It may be a clue to the boys' whereabouts, don't you think? At least, it can't do any harm." The corporal considered it and shrugged. "I'm not sure I—well, never mind. I won't have to call them, anyway. We're expecting some Defense Force men here this
scribbled-on paper he must have been too impatient to notice before. He picked it up. "Peter," she had written, "something is happening to me. The thing that took possession of my mind on the cliff is doing so again. I am being sent for and must go—can't help myself. Alton is, too, I think. Pennock is part of it. He is not what he seems. Try to follow if—" Clutching the note, he walked out onto the veranda and looked in desperation down the plantation road again. This time Manny Williams was
did so. With the leader bringing up the rear, they continued along the tunnel for a hundred yards or so. Then Georgie turned left into a narrower, more crooked passage. Peter followed mechanically, no longer caring. He would be forced to whip some poor fellow tied to a cross, he supposed. Someone courageous enough to accept torture rather than inflict it on others. In the end what difference would it make? Some of those here would die, one way or another, and the others would join Grant's gang