Excerpt:

It sat on the edge of the pond and stared into the water, and Ena wondered if it had been there all evening. The dusk wrapped itself around the scene, a velvet shroud. She watched from the edge of the trees, their wind-touched limbs scratching at the edge of her awareness. The figure at the water's edge did not move, did not yield to the chill riding on the edge of the breeze, did not shift or settle. He -- it -- simply crouched, knuckles pressed to the silty shore bed, silhouette reminiscent of a more apelike human than people cared to admit any relationship with.

The young woman tucked amid the foliage curled her fingers into fists, one carpal at a time. She knew what would happen next. She waited for it, breathed for it, yearned for it even as dread welled up in her throat like bile.