The phonograph rose up from its stand and hovered in front of Stuttgart. The record levitated up from the turntable and the phonograph fell to the floor with a crash.
The record continued to spin in the air in front of Stuttgart.
The demon reached out to touch the record with a hideous finger and the very room itself seemed to implode.
Blaine opened his eyes. He felt cold, almost frigid. He could see his breath.
The office was covered in a layer of frost. He stood up and went to the window. It was a beautiful, late summer day, seventy-seven degrees with bright sunshine and a thin layer of ice coated everything in the office.
Blaine switched the heat on and set the thermostat to eighty degrees. He poured a mug of cold coffee and placed it in the small microwave beside the coffeemaker for twenty seconds.
The office thawed. He could no longer see his breath. He went to the thermostat and turned the heat off. He sat on Blackwell’s desk and lit a cigarette. That is when he looked at the phonograph and noticed that the needle wasn’t on the record, but resting in its cradle.