so quickly that, as Jared turns his feral attention on Clive, the big man is still busy disentangling the syringe from my sister ’ s hospital gown-clad body.
Jared’s hands have sprouted into wicked-looking claws. He swipes, ripping a jagged line into Clive’s chest before reaching in and pulling out the heart in one swift motion, then throwing it against the opposite wall with a thick splat . Clive ’s body keeps moving, the light in his eyes dying slowly before he crumples on top of the other two.
Jared roars, a sound so filled with primal rage that I cringe and step back, knocking loudly into the doorframe behind me. It’s not the annoyed, grubby Jared that turns to glare at me. This is a demon. Even the shape of his face has changed: the chin elongated, his eyes gone a luminescent green, bright with blood lust, and four-inch claws drawn like daggers. Panther? my mind whispers. Sleek and beautiful and deadly. I cling to the wall, unable to move, certain that if I do he’ll maim me.
“Jared,” I whisper. His lips pull back with a snarl. I watch his features melt, the claws retracting an inch in the blink of an eye, the face reshaping itself into the striking features of the tousle-haired young man. “Jared,” I croak again. We stare at each other across the space of the room, now liberally decorated with sprays of blood from the arterial wounds of the men. Thick red puddles ooze from beneath the bodies on the floor.
An alarm begins to shriek. I try to cover my ears, but it’s too loud, the wailing of an air raid siren. The outer room door leading into the hallway slams shut and locks.
Jared turns his attention to Margot like there’s nothing wrong. “Let’s get her out of here. The others are on their way.” The words come out slightly slurred, as though his tongue is too thick and no longer fits in his mouth. His eyes flash sinister as he rips at her restraints.
I try to collect my wits. Margot’s clothes are piled neatly on a counter. I bring them over to her, slipping them on her unconscious form as quickly as I can with Jared’s help, making sure to tuck the hospital gown against the seeping wounds on my sister’s lower belly. I’m careful not to touch him, and I notice he’s just as careful not to touch me. Every so often I see him shudder and draw in long breaths, as though he’s taking in a bundle of scents. My sister is still unconscious when he scoops her up and starts heading for the door. It has sealed behind us. I ’ d forgotten it does that.
“We’re locked in,” I say unhelpfully. He doesn’t even look at me, just stops at the three-inch thick steel reinforced door. His nose twitches, and he sneezes. He places Margot carefully on the floor beside the door, then motions for me to stay in the shadows with her. He has his ear to the door when the first bang comes, strong enough to knock Jared back and make him shake his head. Seconds later the outer door buckles and collapses.
In its place stands a monster. Jared springs for its face, ripping into it with freshly cut claws. It wasn’t the prettiest face to begin with. The monster has got to be close to seven feet tall, draped in the baggy white uniform of the Protocols attendants. But that’s where normalcy ends. The thing Jared attacks is a nightmare come to life: misshapen lips curled into a snarl, black piggy eyes set far back in a face covered by thickly ridged eyebrows. The arms are too long, forearms absurdly muscled. I watch the tendons in its neck stand out like ropes as it raises a ham-size fist and swats at Jared as though a six-foot panther man is no more bother than a fly.
Jared snarls as he rakes the thing’s face, going for the eyes, and jumps away. The monster is strong, but even I can see how much slower he is than Storm’s man. Jared is mid-leap at the monster’s jugular when a slim figure appears from behind it and zaps Jared in the back with an electric gun. Jared lets out a high-pitched cat scream that
Jared’s hands have sprouted into wicked-looking claws. He swipes, ripping a jagged line into Clive’s chest before reaching in and pulling out the heart in one swift motion, then throwing it against the opposite wall with a thick splat . Clive ’s body keeps moving, the light in his eyes dying slowly before he crumples on top of the other two.
Jared roars, a sound so filled with primal rage that I cringe and step back, knocking loudly into the doorframe behind me. It’s not the annoyed, grubby Jared that turns to glare at me. This is a demon. Even the shape of his face has changed: the chin elongated, his eyes gone a luminescent green, bright with blood lust, and four-inch claws drawn like daggers. Panther? my mind whispers. Sleek and beautiful and deadly. I cling to the wall, unable to move, certain that if I do he’ll maim me.
“Jared,” I whisper. His lips pull back with a snarl. I watch his features melt, the claws retracting an inch in the blink of an eye, the face reshaping itself into the striking features of the tousle-haired young man. “Jared,” I croak again. We stare at each other across the space of the room, now liberally decorated with sprays of blood from the arterial wounds of the men. Thick red puddles ooze from beneath the bodies on the floor.
An alarm begins to shriek. I try to cover my ears, but it’s too loud, the wailing of an air raid siren. The outer room door leading into the hallway slams shut and locks.
Jared turns his attention to Margot like there’s nothing wrong. “Let’s get her out of here. The others are on their way.” The words come out slightly slurred, as though his tongue is too thick and no longer fits in his mouth. His eyes flash sinister as he rips at her restraints.
I try to collect my wits. Margot’s clothes are piled neatly on a counter. I bring them over to her, slipping them on her unconscious form as quickly as I can with Jared’s help, making sure to tuck the hospital gown against the seeping wounds on my sister’s lower belly. I’m careful not to touch him, and I notice he’s just as careful not to touch me. Every so often I see him shudder and draw in long breaths, as though he’s taking in a bundle of scents. My sister is still unconscious when he scoops her up and starts heading for the door. It has sealed behind us. I ’ d forgotten it does that.
“We’re locked in,” I say unhelpfully. He doesn’t even look at me, just stops at the three-inch thick steel reinforced door. His nose twitches, and he sneezes. He places Margot carefully on the floor beside the door, then motions for me to stay in the shadows with her. He has his ear to the door when the first bang comes, strong enough to knock Jared back and make him shake his head. Seconds later the outer door buckles and collapses.
In its place stands a monster. Jared springs for its face, ripping into it with freshly cut claws. It wasn’t the prettiest face to begin with. The monster has got to be close to seven feet tall, draped in the baggy white uniform of the Protocols attendants. But that’s where normalcy ends. The thing Jared attacks is a nightmare come to life: misshapen lips curled into a snarl, black piggy eyes set far back in a face covered by thickly ridged eyebrows. The arms are too long, forearms absurdly muscled. I watch the tendons in its neck stand out like ropes as it raises a ham-size fist and swats at Jared as though a six-foot panther man is no more bother than a fly.
Jared snarls as he rakes the thing’s face, going for the eyes, and jumps away. The monster is strong, but even I can see how much slower he is than Storm’s man. Jared is mid-leap at the monster’s jugular when a slim figure appears from behind it and zaps Jared in the back with an electric gun. Jared lets out a high-pitched cat scream that
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