Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) Read Online Free PDF Page B

laugh.
    “More…fresh…good.” The voice rasped; like bones being ground together.
    Death stood before him. He stretched out his right arm, reaching for anything he might grab hold of to defend himself. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the monster that seemed to enjoy letting its prey panic. His hand pressed up against something. In the dim light, he couldn’t make out the details, but a deeper instinct sensed familiarity in it. He pushed harder. It tore.
    Like an electrocution, a jolt of fiery white rushed through his veins and flooded his senses. Something old and primal rose within him and took control. No longer hesitant, he twisted his arm so that it tore and then pushed into whatever he held.
    Gwynn howled in sudden agony with the sensation of a thousand knives carving the flesh of his arm. Even as that pain consumed him, a sensation of strength poured from his heart to his extremities. His muscles flexed and expanded, his vision adjusted to the darkness, making the attic bright as a midday afternoon.
    Now the details of the thing across the room were clear. While it had a body shaped like a man, it had a disfigured face. Its jaw had elongated to accommodate a mouth full of long razor teeth. Grey, rotted flesh hung limp from its bones. Gwynn understood he should feel terrified. Here was all the monsters he had ever been told didn’t exist come to life. Instead, adrenaline pumped a joyful high through his system. He laughed. He wanted to fight. He wanted to sink a blade deep into this monster’s heart. He just had to wrest his arm free of whatever still pinned it.
    The creature’s face contorted with intense anger, and maybe an element of fear. When the beast spoke, it said one word. “Anunnaki.”
    The beast charged.
    Gwynn pulled at his arm, demanded it be free. Whatever held it tried to draw him deeper, like fighting the pull of quicksand. The creature was on him, swinging its arm to take off his head. With a final heave, Gwynn freed his arm and rolled under the monster’s swing.
    Too slow. The beast’s foot landed in his back. Something popped inside Gwynn and stole his breath. The swirling mass in the mirror lay within his reach. It called to him. Tugged at him. Taunted him. Anger rose from his guts like black sick. He opened his mouth and screamed, slamming his right fist into the mirror.
    The mirror exploded outward. Shards of glass bit into Gwynn’s skin. A gale wind ripped through the attic. Some of the older wood gave way and smashed outward into the night. A white–hot light popped like a flash bulb. Gwynn lifted into the air and flew at an opposing wall. He slammed into it and fell to the floor in a messy heap.
    The night air rushed in through the gashes in the attic roof. The breeze felt comforting, sobering, against his flushed skin. He took a painful look around the remains of the attic. He couldn’t see the creature. In the corner across from him, he saw a form crumpled on the floor. Sophia.
    He tried to crawl toward her. Pain hit him like a fist in his stomach.
    “Sophia.” He croaked. She didn’t move. His vision blurred and dimmed. Gwynn collapsed to the floor. Bright flashes of red and blue from outside shone through the holes in the roof. “Help’s here Sophia. Everything…going to be—”
    The darkness claimed him.
         

4/ Tales From the Past
    Gwynn drifted.
    His body became weightless—up and down ceased to exist. Just freedom with no limitations. His body was fluid, twisting and turning like a champion swimmer. His movements met with no resistance. The feeling of something drawing him forward existed as the sole bearing on direction or movement. The sensation intensified. The featureless void shattered with light. Bright, beautiful. Gwynn’s feet touched down on a firm surface.
    The light narrowed and thinned, transforming into a set of headlights cutting across his vision. Blinded, disoriented, he couldn’t move. The silence filled with the sound of wheels locking