Walter felt a sudden burning sensation, glanced down, and saw his arm smoking. It burst into flames, red and orange. The smoke whirled up, shaping itself into a malicious, laughing face. He knew that face, had created every tormented line in that face.
He screamed and shoved Caitlin away from him, slapping at his arm with his other hand to try to stop the fire racing up his flesh. He could smell himself charring like so many of the victims he had enjoyed torturing.
Caitlin fell heavily, clutched at her arm, wanted to remain lying on the ground with her eyes closed tightly. The compulsion to turn and face Walter was too strong. She sat and stared at him helplessly.
