The scaly, long-limbed demons danced suggestively around the protective pentagram and beckoned toward the two frightened occupants with supple fingers trying to entice them to step over the boundary.
Charlie stood, trembling in anger, with his arms crossed over his chest and glared up at his larger friend.
“Well, Charlie,” Matt wheedled with the intent to placate his dangerously, irate friend.
“No,” Charlie erupted and furiously poked Matt in the chest as he spewed each syllable. “I don’t want to hear any of your famous excuses!”
Matt shrugged his shoulders and said, “At least this time, it’s not zombies.”