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And he did, with the press of his claws through her ribcage. Her heart stopped quickly.
Then came his angry, mournful, threatening promise again.
“You will never die alone.”
Maggie jerked backto herself with a hiss of air through her nose. She was sweating, her heart pounding in her chest as adrenaline ripped through her system.
It was dark.
She picked up her phone. It was buzzing. Harry was waiting for her.
“Fuck!”
Frantically, she texted him back. Said she blacked out again, she’d be there shortly. Standing, she swore again as her sketchbook fell to the ground at her feet. Scrambling to pick it up, she hesitated as she looked down to see a new sketch that hadn’t been there earlier in the afternoon.
It was of a creature wearing a long, sleeveless black robe. The hood was pulled down over his face, showing nothing of his features. Just two white dots where his eyes would be, glowing from the shadows.
Silver bracelets hovered around his wrists. His arms were jet black from the elbows to the fingertips, and his fingers were…freakishly, inhumanly long and pointed. He hovered in space over the ground, the tattered fabric swirling around him.
It was her monster.
It was him.
She slammed the sketchbook shut and headed off toward the restaurant. She was only a few blocks away. She’d be ten minutes, tops, if she walked.
But she ran.
Not because she was late.
But because she needed to.
