Page 8 of The Darkest Night

Mae’s skin prickled.

That’s not Antonovich!

A dark miasma crowned the dead man’s head and coiled around his body, wisps of blackness that screamed of corruption. The whites of his eyes had turned an unearthly obsidian; in their center, shining with the light of Hell itself, were ochre pupils full of menace.

Mae’s gaze strayed to the organs lined up neatly in their respective system blocks on the examination table next to Antonovich. The dead man looked over at his innards before staring down blankly at the gaping hole in his chest and abdomen, the scalp flap on his head dangling over his face.

Antonovich reached a hand inside his own body and ripped out a section of his spine. Hodge gagged and threw up.

The dead man studied the bloodied bones and ragged cord for a moment before shoving the whole thing inside his mouth, his jaws splitting into a monstrous maw so he could fit it all in.

Bile surged at the back of Mae’s throat as the sound of crunching and chewing filled the lab. She swallowed convulsively and stole a glance at the equipment tray next to Antonovich.

The rib shears and bone saw were underneath the retractors and smaller postmortem instruments.

Antonovich, or whatever creature had possessed the man, for he was most definitely no longer human, followed her gaze. He smiled, his mouth widening until it stretched from ear to ear in a horrifying grimace that knotted Mae’s stomach. His body started to swell, muscles bulging and frame growing.

His figure blurred before he’d fully transformed.

Shit!

Mae blocked his strike by sheer instinct. His fist landed on her forearms with a powerful crunch where she’d tucked them up in front of her chest, jarring her bones. She gritted her teeth, stomped down on his left foot with her heel, and felt something crack beneath her axe kick. Antonovich’s head snapped sharply to the side as she jabbed him viciously in the jaw.

She never saw his left fist move.

Fire erupted in Mae’s belly as he punched her in the gut, his movement lightning fast, just like when he’d jumped down from the table and charged her. She sailed across the room and struck the worktop with her back. Her cell phone clattered to the ground and pinwheeled under the counter.

Mae choked and wheezed, the pain in her stomach and spine an agonizing fire that seared her very nerves. Her knees folded beneath her. She sagged to the floor, legs going numb.

Focus, Mae. Breathe.

Dark spots swam across Mae’s vision. She finally managed to suck in air.

“Focus?!” she snarled with her next breath. “Focus on what, dammit?!”

Hodge and Antonovich stared at her.

“Great,” she mumbled. “Now they both think I’m losing my mind!”

Use your powers.

Mae blinked. The warm spots in her heart and belly were growing hotter. Her hands rose to her chest and stomach, unbidden.

The heat spread through her veins and filled her body. Unlike what she’d experienced before she’d lost consciousness, there was no pain this time. Only a growing sense of…potency.

A ringing sounded in Mae’s ears. “What—what is this?!”

Magic.

Hodge finally unfroze.

Antonovich’s head twisted around at the flicker of movement. He leapt toward the director, nails lengthening to vicious, black claws, an inhuman shriek rising from his throat.

“No!” Mae yelled.

She raised a hand instinctively toward the dead man.

Red light exploded around her fingers. It flared and twisted into a ball that pulsed with her heartbeat. She stared at it blankly before drawing her arm back and hurling it at Antonovich.

---