Richard always believed he'd enjoy a few golden years before Death's bony hand reached for him. But what does he get? He gets to live across the hall from friggin' Stanley Kapcheck with his shiny bald head and perfect teeth that are all his own; Stanley Kapcheck who struts around like a peacock in his leather coat.Honestly! What kind of respectable senior citizen wears leather?But Stanley isn't your average senior citizen. He's a Hunter-a slayer of all things unnatural. He reveals to Richard that the one monster that has eluded him is the same beast that killed Richard's wife, and it's due to kill again before the next new moon. The two men load up on ibuprofen and prune juice and embark on a cross-country demon-hunting adventure, but when The Devil Herself kidnaps Stanley, Richard realizes the line between Hunter and hunted is very thin, indeed, and the ornery octogenarian only has a few days left to trap The Devil, save Stanley, and slay the monster who murdered his bride.CHAPTER ONE - RICHARDOld age was the most vicious of bullies. Life had already scorned him, knocked the books out of his hands and beat him to a pulp. Now, here came Old Age to kick sand in his face. It wasn't fair. All his life, he'd been promised a retirement from hardship-a handful of golden years before Death's bony hand reached for him. Now, when it was far too late to do anything about it, he realized the whole blasted world had conspired against him. There were no golden years. Only a lonely descent toward oblivion.Everest Senior Living Facility was not the nursing home of his nightmares. As a younger man, in his seventies, Richard had woken in a cold sweat with visions of dirty, closed-in rooms, abusive nurses, and seeping bedsores. The reality of his old age was nothing like that. The old folks' home was full of sunlight that streamed through enormous, plentiful, spotless windows. Perky young girls who smelled faintly of coffee bustled about with rhinestone-studded stethoscopes draped around their necks.The food was bland and mushy, but at least as good as what he'd lived off in the years since his sweet Barbara had died, and they served ice-cold prune juice at every meal, so his guts kept moving like they were supposed to. Thanks be to the Holy Lord above, there were no olive loaf sandwiches. He'd eaten enough olive loaf to last a dozen lifetimes.All in all, Everest was as good a place as any to be abandoned by your family while you waited for death.Well, it would have been, if it weren't for Stanley Kapcheck. Stanley with his shiny bald head and perfect teeth that were all his own. Stanley had a flat stomach and a British accent. He wore a leather coat. Honestly! What kind of respectable senior citizen wore leather?Pretty nurses, young enough to be his grandchildren, giggled and blushed when Stanley spoke.Richard loathed Stanley.Was it so much to ask for a man to grow old and die the way nature intended? Something was weird about a man Stanley's age who still wore well-shined, lace-up shoes that he tied himself.Consequently, the sight of Stanley's pristine wingtip tapping the white tiles of the dining hall floor chipped away at the core of Richard's soul. And if that weren't enough, the pompous old peacock had an extra helping of chocolate pudding on the table in front of him. That new girl with the wild black curls had brought it to him, offering it like she was presenting her dowry.Richard used the back of his chair and the edge of the table to push himself to his feet. He held on for a moment to make sure his balance was good and steady, and then moved his hands to his walker and shuffled in Richard's direction.The insufferable old fart smiled at him. "Good evening, Dick! You're looking well. How's that hip of yours?"How dare he act like they were friends? And, Lord, but how he hated being called Dick.