Page 9 of The Darkest Night

The crimson sphere struck the dead man’s flank with a detonation that rocked the lab. Antonovich screeched and flew across the room. His scream ended abruptly when he crashed into a cabinet, metal denting under the impact. He froze for an instant before slumping to the ground.

Mae blinked rapidly, her heart in her mouth.

Smoke sizzled around the jagged, gaping hole where Antonovich’s right abdomen and chest had once been. She looked dazedly at her hand.

“That’s new,” she mumbled, an edge of hysteria underscoring her words.

The cabinet wobbled and crashed down on the dead man, startling her and waking Hodge from his stupor. The director jumped, an incoherent yelp leaving him. His head swung jerkily from the creature under the cabinet to Mae.

“What—what just happened?!” he squeaked.

Mae rose to her feet. The pain in her belly and back was already easing.

Is that the effect of magic too?

Hysterical laughter bubbled up her throat at that thought. She clenched her jaw and cut it off.

Yeah, right. It’s probably just adrenaline.

Her subconscious told her adrenaline did not produce powerful red balls of light that could take chunks out of human bodies. She thought she heard the other her sigh.

“Mae?” Hodge quavered.

Mae frowned. “I don’t know, Steve. But I suggest we get the hell out of here.”

She retrieved her cell from under the worktop. The screen was cracked. Mae stiffened.

A text had come through from Rose five minutes ago. She’d gone to the roof to wait for her. Mae frantically messaged back. Her heart sank as she tried to send the missive.

There was no signal.

Cold fingers skittered across her skin. She discarded her protective gown and shoe covers, slipped her phone inside the back pocket of her jeans, and headed briskly for the door. Hodge hesitated before following, his face ashen.

A sound made them stop.

Antonovich was trying to crawl out from under the cabinet.

Hodge recoiled, a whimper falling from his lips. “Oh God!”

Mae scowled, walked over to the equipment tray, and picked up the bone saw.

“Er, Mae? What are you—?” Hodge’s eyes bulged. “Wait. You’re not really gonna—? Oh, shit. You are.”

He heaved and pressed a shaking hand to his mouth.

Mae squatted next to Antonovich, clutched him by his bloodless scalp flap, and proceeded to cut his head off. The dead man struggled feebly until she severed his spinal cord. He finally went limp, the sulfurous light fading from his eyes.

His lips parted on a low hiss before he stilled. “Na…Ri…”

Goosebumps broke out on Mae’s skin. She knew the voice didn’t belong to Antonovich. Fury misted her vision with a red haze. She inhaled shakily, stunned by her sudden anger. This wasn’t just a projected emotion.

The rage she was feeling was her own.

I am you and you are me, huh? In that case, I hope you tell me what the hell is going on—and soon!

The voice inside her stayed silent as she dropped the saw and rose to her feet. She took a lab coat from the rack next to the sluice room, opened the instrument drawers, and filled the pockets with as many scissors as she could find. Her gaze landed on a mop. She lifted it out of its bucket, kicked off the sponge at the end, and snapped the handle in half on her knee. She gripped the two ends firmly and crossed the floor to Hodge.

“What—” Hodge paused and licked his lips, “what are you intending to do with those?”

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