Matt didn’t even realize that the hideous shriek that roared through the long room came from his own throat. With an animal grunt, Gabri lunged at Matt, fangs plunging toward Matt’s neck. Matt wheeled around in terror. He didn’t have time to think. He didn’t have time to make a plan. Reflexively, he turned, pulled his arm back, and thrust the oar handle forward toward his attacking foe. Gabri ran right into it. With a sickening, wet crack, the oar handle punctured his chest. Gabri’s eyes bulged, their flame extinguished. He opened his mouth to cry out, and a gray moth fluttered out. The moth floated up to the ceiling, then out the open window. Gabri’s eyes closed. His head tilted back. And as Matt stared in horror, Gabri’s body collapsed to the floor, folding like an accordion. His eyes stared lifelessly up at Matt, and Gabri’s face began to crumble, the skin drying and peeling, flaking to powder until the entire skull was revealed. And then the skull too disintegrated.
