Chapter 6 Trauma
The creature in the back room stiffened. Its head swiveled, impossibly fast, towards the sound. Towards me. Two pinpricks of malevolent red light ignited in the darkness, fixing on my face.
Run. The thought screamed through my mind, raw and instinctual. But my feet remained rooted to the spot, encased in lead.
The creature lurched forward, its gait uneven, heavy. The wet, tearing sounds began again, accompanied by a guttural, satisfied grunting. It was feeding. On Mrs. Gable. My mind rebelled, refusing to accept it. Mrs. Gable was safe. She was on the phone, at home, watering her petunias.
A low growl rumbled in the darkness, a sound of hunger, of malice. The red pinpricks of light, closer now, burned with terrifying intensity.
"Stop." The word ripped from my lungs, thin, reedy.
The creature paused, its head cocked. It chuckled, a wet, unpleasant sound that promised pain. Weak. Helpless.
It lunged.
I closed my eyes, bracing for impact, for the tearing, the pain.
Instead, a searing heat erupted in my chest, a fire that raced through every vein, every nerve ending. My eyes snapped open. The pharmacy was still plunged in darkness, but my vision changed. I saw. Not with my eyes. With something else.
The creature, a hulking mass of shadow and twisted sinew, was no longer merely dark. I saw its essence, a swirling vortex of fear and malice, a grotesque parody of life. And I saw something else, something familiar, clinging to it like a parasitic vine: the faint, shimmering outline of Mr. Hemlock, his face contorted in silent agony, his essence being slowly siphoned away.
And deeper, at the creature's core, a fragile, trembling light. Mrs. Gable. Her spirit, still fighting, still trying to reach me.
The fire in my chest roared, a primal scream of rage and grief. My body moved without my consent. My hands, outstretched, pulsed with an incandescent white light that pushed back against the oppressive darkness.
The creature recoiled, hissing, its red eyes flaring with shock and pain. Impossible. Human.
"Leave them." My voice was no longer thin. It was deep, resonant, vibrating with power I didn't recognize. The light from my hands intensified, pushing against the shadow, illuminating the grotesque features of the thing before me. It was hideous, a nightmare made flesh, dripping with ichor.
It snarled, a challenge. Mine. It lunged again, faster this time, its claws extended, tipped with unnatural blackness.
I didn't think. I felt. Mrs. Gable's fear, Mr. Hemlock's torment. And a cold, terrifying fury that boiled in my blood.
A wave of pure energy erupted from my core, slamming into the creature. It shrieked, a sound that grated on my very soul, and was thrown backward, crashing through a shelf of glass jars. They exploded in a cascade of shattered glass and pungent herbs. Belladonna. Digitalis. Valerian. The scents mingled with something metallic, something vile.
The creature struggled to rise, its form flickering, distorted by the light that poured from me. Its red eyes narrowed, a glint of something akin to fear warring with its predatory hunger.
"You won't have them." My voice echoed in the now-lit pharmacy, reverberating off the walls. I stepped forward, the floorboards groaning under an unseen weight. My light pulsed, pushing back against the encroaching shadows in the corners of the room.
The creature snarled, a low, desperate sound. It scrambled to its feet, surprisingly agile despite its bulk. It lunged for the back door, abandoning its prey. It wanted to escape.
I wouldn't let it.
My hand shot out, unthinking. A tendril of pure energy, white and searing, lashed out, wrapping around the creature's ankle. It roared, twisting, trying to break free.
But the light held. It burned.