Page 2 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

Crouched over the man was a being wearing a long black cloak that didn’t move the way fabric should. It seemed to be absorbing the light into its dark folds. The hood obscured the face; where not even a nose or a mouth was visible. Just darkness, with one pale, thin hand pressed against the man’s throat, making his breath stutter.

But it only got worse, as that cloaked being gave a soft, satisfied sigh of pleasure.

Angela wanted to be sick, to run.

Instead, rage mixed with horror made her voice crack through the alley like a whip. “Get away from him!”

The cloaked figure slowly turned its head, showing no face or any clear shape under that hood.

Angela lifted the pepper spray with shaky hands. “Get off him. Now.”

The thing unfolded to a height taller than any man. Its too-long limbs were strangely fluid as if the air moved with it. From under the hood, the male voice was low and slithery, like a whisper heard through water. “You… see me?”

Angela’s throat tightened, as did her grip on her pepper spray. “Of course I see you.”

The hood tilted, as if curious. “But you should not see. The Accords—”

“You’re standing right there.” Her eyes burned from the stench rolling off him in waves. She had to do something, anything, even though she wanted to run and call the cops. “What are you? Part of some sick cult?”

A hollow laugh scraped out of the darkness. “Mortal words. Mortal comfort.”

It took one step toward her.

Angela stepped back, her heel skidding on the alley’s gritty floor. “Stay away from me.” She was so stupid. What on earth had possessed her to do this?

The thing paused, as if amused by her attempt at authority.

Then it suddenly moved too fast, closing the distance between them in a blink.

Angela jerked the pepper spray up, and it hissed, releasing a stream of chemicals hitting the darkness under the hood.

But it never even flinched.

Instead, it laughed.

Mercy.

Angela’s eyes watered from the chemical sting. “Get away from me.” She fired again, flooding the air with pepper and desperation as she stumbled backward.

But it did nothing.

The cloaked being’s voice became eerily intimate, the kind that would give her nightmares for the rest of her life. “That is not a weapon for my kind.”

It lunged.

Angela screamed. It was raw and ugly, as if dredged from the depths of her very soul, into a scream that echoed in the alley amplifying it a thousand times over.

You’d think someone would have heard her.

But the cloaked being’s hand closed around her throat, with fingers stiff as frozen bones, in a grip that wasn’t human.

The pepper spray canister slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the concrete to roll under the industrial bin, as the thing lifted her by the throat.

Her spine click-clacked into alignment; the muscles in her neck and shoulders strained as her feet left the ground, while she clawed at the hand gripping her throat.

The pain, the lack of air, and panic blended with black spots that danced with the stars in her eyes. Then it leaned closer with that hood to reveal red, hungry eyes.

Terror flooded through her. She struggled to breathe as it crushed her throat, forcing her to stare at evil itself.