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- He opened his mouth then and screamed, and when he did, the moon opened its one eye and screamed with him.
- The eye of the moon was bloodshot and bulging, a sac of pus with an iris. Its mouth was a jagged tear in the night. Its voice was Manx’s voice, so amplified that it was nearly deafening:
- “GET HER! KILL HER! SHE CAME HERE TO END CHRISTMAS! KILL HER NOW!”
- The ledge shook. The branches of that enormous Christmas tree flailed at the darkness. Vic lost her grip on the brake, and the Triumph jerked forward another six inches. The backpack full of ANFO slithered out of her lap and fell onto the cobblestones.
- Buildings shuddered beneath the shouting of the moon. Vic had never experienced an earthquake before and could not catch her breath, and her terror was a wordless thing that existed below the level of conscious thought, below the level of language. The moon began to scream—just scream—an inarticulate roar of fury that caused the falling snowflakes to whirl and blow about madly.
- - Triumph: Beneath the Great Tree
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