Page 382 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

But it’s too late.

He’s too… fucking… late.

It’s in his heart.

Spreading, building, growing.

The water turns black and Lachlan’s eyes turn white and the world turns blue, the bad kind, the hellish kind, the kind of blue that means a prison, the kind that stirs dread in his cells. Lachlan’s smile is too wide as he rises up out of the water, too many teeth, shark-like and horrifying and his eyes are black until they roll over white and the voice is not his voice, not Lachlan, it’s—

‘Kade!’

A voice strikes through the blue.

The black eyes.

The sharp teeth.

The thing wearing Lachlan’s face splinters apart.

Kade wakes on his back.

He drags in a breath that rips through the length of his throat to demonstrate how sore it is from… screaming? Was he screaming?

The ceiling swims above him.

Low light, not blue.

Dark stone. No windows. Riley’s bathroom.

The copper tub is several feet away.

He must have fallen hard enough to slide across the wet floor because his shoulder is jammed against the wall and his skull is ringing. Every muscle in his body is locked tight.

Someone is being violently sick.

Kade turns his head.

Lachlan is hunched over the toilet, one hand gripping the bowl, the other flattened against the tiles to hold himself upright. His whole body convulses as he brings up another stream.

He’s alive.

‘Lachlan?’

The name comes out as a broken whisper.

‘Stay where you are,’ Lee tells him.

She’s kneeling beside Kade but not touching him. Her hands hover several inches above his body, giving him space to return to it.

He stares at them.

Five fingers on each.

Perfectly shaped knuckles.

Pale skin, long nails.

Human hands once more.