The tapping continued from somewhere beyond the pool of light, and when August squinted, the first thing he saw wasn’t the glint of metal or the smudge of skin but the blazing red of the Malchai’s eyes.
August fought to get his feet under him as the creature in the black suit stepped forward, a long metal bar dangling from one hand, its edge sharp, jagged, as if broken off from some large machine. The torn end dragged along the concrete with a screech, and August winced as the sound knifed through his head.
There was something strange about the monster. He was all bone, of course, but the lines of his face, the width of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, was almost human.
Almost.
August got one foot beneath himself before an electric droning started up and the chains overhead drew taut, dragging him the rest of the way to his feet and then onto his toes. He fought for purchase, his shoulders straining in their sockets. Since when did he feel the subtle tests of muscle and bone? His whole body felt fragile, breakable, and some distant part of his mind wondered if this was what it truly felt like to be human.
“August Flynn,” said the Malchai, rolling the name off his tongue. “My name is Sloan.”
Of course. Harker’s pet.
“You know,” continued Sloan, examining his fingers, which tapered into pointed nails, “you don’t look very well.” He leaned forward. “How long has it been since you fed?”
August tried to say something and realized that he couldn’t. His teeth were jammed together, his mouth sealed shut with tape.
“Oh, yes, that,” said the Malchai. “I know the power of a Sunai’s voice. Especially if they turn. Leo and I have a bit of a history.” A thoughtful pause. “You know, between your brother and your sister, I’m learning so much about your kind. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”
A second pair of red eyes floated in the darkness behind him, but Sloan’s attention was on the metal pole in his hands. He brought the bar to rest against August’s ribs, where the bullet wound from the truck stop was leaking a single line of black.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, tone twisted into a sick pantomime of worry. “Isn’t that strange?” The bar fell away. “You know, they say that Sunai are invincible, but we both know that isn’t true.”
Sloan wound up and swung the bar into August’s ribs. The pain was shattering, and he could feel the bones threaten to crack, his consciousness fracturing around the blow. A groan escaped the gag. It felt like the tape was melting, fusing to his skin, the fumes choking his senses as he fought for air. His head swam.
“No, the hungrier you get, the closer you are to human. But close is not enough.” The jagged edge of the bar came up beneath his chin, forcing his head up. “You can hurt, you can even bleed, but you just won’t die.”
The bar connected with August’s collarbone, and pain exploded through his chest. He choked back a sob.
“You may be wondering,” continued Sloan, taking the bar between both hands, “what I want from you right now, August.”
He glared, trying to steady his breathing.
“It’s really very simple.” His red eyes danced like flames in his skull. “I want you to go dark.”
The other Malchai, who’d edged forward to the rim of the light, shot Sloan a nervous look, but August felt ill.
Sloan’s smile sharpened. “I think you know why.”
August started to shake his head, and the bar connected with his ribs. An explosion of pain, and August bowed his head, trying to ground himself in it instead of being swept away. Nails dug into his jaw as Sloan dragged his head up.
“Think.” He tapped August’s forehead with a pointed nail, then drew it down through his left eyebrow.
The line of Leo’s scar. It had never made sense, because Sunai didn’t get scars. Not when they were flesh and blood. Which meant that when Leo got it, he hadn’t been.
“I think,” said Sloan in his slick wet voice, “that a Sunai’s most powerful form is also its most vulnerable. I think that if you go dark, I’ll be able to drive this bar right into your heart.” And then Sloan leaned in, close enough that August could feel the cold rot of the monster’s soul against his fevered skin. “In fact,” he whispered, “I know, because I put my theory to the test last night. With Ilsa.”
August’s heart stuttered.
Bile rose in his throat.
No.
The darkness welled up, threatening to surface, and the Malchai hummed with pleasure.
“So many stars,” said the monster.
Don’t worry, little brother.
“I watched them all go out.”
I’m not afraid of the dark.
“Right before I cut her throat.”
When Kate opened her eyes, the world was still dark.
No, not just dark.
Black.
The heavy black of interior spaces without external light.