"It's coming!"
Galad jolted awake from the sofa bed, his terrified shout echoing through the quiet lounge. The sudden outburst startled the others awake.
Across from him, Seeka calmly set down her newspaper, her expression unreadable.
"Had a nightmare?" she asked coldly.
On the other beds, Klein stirred groggily, and Cecilia rubbed her eyes in confusion.
Galad's heart hammered violently. His breath came ragged as his eyes darted around the room. Everyone was still there. No vanishing comrades, no strange noises in the corridor.
Was it… just a dream?
For a moment, relief threatened to wash over him until a sharp unease pierced his chest like a suspended steel needle, pressing closer, closer, until his skin prickled with phantom pain between his brows.
"No… It's not a nightmare! There's real danger!"
His voice cracked as he waved his arms wildly, pale and frantic. "I can't explain it, but something is coming!"
He looked half-mad, but instead of dismissing him, Seeka only frowned. In one smooth motion, she rose and drew her revolver with a hiss of metal.
"Which direction?" she demanded. "Where do you sense it?"
Galad froze. His instincts screamed of peril, but there was no shape, no place, just a looming dread.
"Did you see any images? Tell me, and I can try to divine them." Klein stood now, his face serious.
Before Galad could reply, a terrified shriek tore through the corridor.
"Don't come closer! Ahhh!!!!"
"Rosanne!"
Seeka's composure cracked. She sprang toward the door, calling back as she ran, "Protect your sister!" Stay hidden! Klein, with me!"
Galad tightened his grip on Cecilia and dragged her down to crouch behind a sofa.
Klein gripped his revolver and followed. Rosanne's screams still echoed, fraying his nerves. Only two Nighthawks were here tonight, and one was him, a green recruit. If the intruder were strong, things could spiral out of control fast.
Seeka surged ahead, both hands steady on her revolver. She turned the corner, voice sharp as steel:
"Stop! Don't move!"
Klein rounded after her, raising his own gun, then froze at the sight before him.
Rosanne sat on the ground, pale and trembling, dragging herself backward with desperate kicks. And standing over her…
"Haynes?!" Klein blurted, shock freezing his trigger finger.
"You know him?" Seeka She asked without looking back, her gun trained on the intruder. "Captain didn't catch him after all? I said, "Stop!"
Klein's voice shook. "I… I don't know. He looks… wrong."
This was no longer the anxious, stiff man Klein remembered. Haynes's face twisted into a blissful, intoxicated smile, his eyes vacant, his body drenched in fresh blood as though he'd walked through a pool of blood. It dripped from his hair, his hands, and the black classical robe clinging wetly to him.
"My Lord guided me here…" His murmur was dreamy, words thick with madness. Beneath his robe, something writhed and bulged, alive. "Yes… the Lord's aura is here. My salvation is here. Praise the Lord…"
Seeka's eyes narrowed. "Rosanne, run! Klein, with me!"
She fired without hesitation.
"Bang! Bang!"
Klein snapped out of it and joined her. Bullets tore into Haynes's body; one even exploded through his eye, spraying blood and white matter across the floor.
Klein nearly gagged at the sight of his former acquaintance collapsing—except he didn't.
Haynes staggered but didn't fall. A grotesque squelch filled the air as red tumors erupted from his wounds, pushing the bullets out with sizzling flesh. He tore one pulsing mass from his ruined eye socket and crushed it in his palm, grinning hideously.
"You… dare to stop me?"
A lump of flesh burst from his hand, splattering the partition. The wood hissed and smoked, corroding away.
"Move!"
Seeka yanked Klein sideways. Where he had just stood, bubbling gore ate through the floorboards.
Klein's scalp prickled. Bullets don't work… His flesh corrodes everything…
He fumbled through his options: the revolver, a Slumber Charm, sealed artifacts in the captain's office—but those were only for detection, not combat. Panic swirled in his chest.
Unless… Use the power above the gray fog?
Before his thoughts could spiral, Seeka shouted, "Klein! Cover me! I need demon-hunting bullets!"
Hope flared in him. Right! Their ordinary ammunition was useless, but silver bullets engraved with holy sigils might turn the tide.
He yanked the Slumber Charm from his pocket. Cold silver, inscribed with Hermes glyphs and spirit numbers. Spirituality surged into it as he bellowed the incantation:
"Crimson!"
The charm flared and exploded into dark-red flame, engulfing Haynes's head. The fanatic's twisted grin melted away, his eyelids drooping as the unnatural tumors ceased writhing.
"It's working!" Klein gasped.
Seeka swiftly emptied her revolver and reloaded with gleaming silver bullets etched with the Evernight Goddess's holy emblem. She whispered a short prayer, her words heavy with reverence. A quiet, serene power wrapped around her like a shadow.
When she lifted her revolver again, her eyes were calm. She leveled it at the swaying, half-slumbering Haynes.