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"When you're dead, you're dead,"" his uncle tells him, but John Proud fears otherwise. The sixteen-year-old's namesake, his great-great-great-great-grandfather, who died back in 1854, was found guilty of being a demon and hanged. Now his malevolent spirit is back, wreaking havoc and looking for a healthy new body to take over.Sixteen-year-old John Proud discovers his family's dark secret'in 1854 an ancestral namesake confessed to being a demon. Now John finds himself battling his ancestor who is trying to use John for an evil purpose. Mounting suspense plus the sure draw of occult horror will keep readers turning the pages.
promise not to tell anyone. I tried to figure out exactly what Uncle Dave knew about me that I didn’t. All that talk about evil … his hints. The thought of his teasing brought my anger back. Hadn’t John Proud pretty much said he had made a deal of some kind with Uncle Dave to get me to the cemetery? Talk about evil … And what had I done? Pushed him so hard he collapsed. So it went, back and forth, rage one moment, guilt the next. Finally I went to bed. Even then I spent a lot of time staring
in my head I don’t know. Over and over again. There were times I felt I was actually there. Perhaps I was. 19 One Saturday morning after about two weeks, I got a call. “Hi. It’s Ann.” “Oh, hi,” I said, my heart doing a flip. “I was hoping you’d call,” she said in her best direct way. “You okay?” “Sure,” I replied. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Means I’m all right.” “Things settle down?” “I guess.” “You don’t seem very certain.” “Sorry I didn’t call,” I said. “That’s okay. But why
something that wasn’t of the world. That something had taken my shape, borrowed it so to speak. It had begun to act on me in ways I didn’t fully understand. Worse, it had entered my thoughts, making me think horrible things, and then it acted them out, made them happen as if they were my doing. But they weren’t. The night before my last exam, I was trying hard to study when the phone rang. My mother called that it was for me. I went to the phone. “John?” “Yes.” “Ann.” “Oh, hi. How are you?”
hugged each other. We stayed that way, maybe for a full minute. “Thank you,” I said. She turned her face slightly, gave me a kiss by my ear. “Get some sleep,” she said, and quickly left. 27 I got undressed slowly, climbed into bed, and turned out the light. But I couldn’t sleep. Once I heard the cannons, a short series, like exclamation points in the dark. I kept tossing, trying to find a comfortable place. There was a slight tapping on the door. “Yes?” The door opened. It was Ann. She had
another moment I stood there. I saw then that John Proud had not fooled me. He had only shown me a way to fool myself. I began to run, leaping, crashing through the underbrush, back to where I had left Ann. I hit the top of the gorge—Devil’s Race—almost at a full gallop. I hurled myself down through the water, up to the other side and the tent. There I stopped, afraid to look. I dropped to all fours, went to the tent, and threw back the entrance flap. Ann was there, lying absolutely still.