Black widow… Rachel braced herself against the accusing tone in the spirit’s voice as she pulled her gaze away from Galen’s animated corpse. This was a trick, nothing more, designed to throw her off guard. “I know none of this is real,” Rachel said, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. “I grow tired of your games.” Her words were met with a bitter peal of laughter as the doll looked at Galen and reached out its fingerless, stitched hand, to smear the bloody tears across his face. “Perhaps,” it answered, “or maybe a foretaste of what’s to come. Watching your life fall apart is almost more pleasurable than killing the wolf.” Enraged, Rachel reached out to grab it, but it was lightening fast. It was out of her reach in a split second. “Twisted bitch! What do you want from us?” Rachel spun around at the sound of its almost maniacal laughter. It was sitting in the front pew, intently gazing at her. When its laughter final