Bezubs

   They were spirits, noncorporeal; they'd just heard him calling. 

   . . . If the bezubs took him, he would be trapped with them in hell. And hell would be like watching Patrick's terrified face, a knife blade cutting into his throat, except the horror would be eternal. He would never get out.

   Too late. In his mind he saw razor-teethed gremlins rushing toward his open mouth, his surrendered hands. Bezubs, coinhabitors of his own world, were taking back their own.

   "No," he groaned. "It can't be true. That's just religion or folk tales."

   But it was true. (p. 389)