when he reached bone. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth but he dared not stop—not now.
This is for Donna
, he thought, and bit down even harder.
Guffin uttered a scream rivaled only by the thunderclap overhead. He fell backward, kicking his foot free of Donovan’s mouth. A chunk of flesh came away with it. When Donovan realized he still held a piece of Guffin between his teeth, he spat it out and retched. Guffin cried in agony as he scrambled to put pressure on the wound.
Lightning split the sky, followed by another heavy crash of thunder. Sheets of rain fell down upon them. It made seeing difficult, but Donovan found what he was looking for in the pale light. The gun lay just beside the car’s rear tire. He crawled across the pavement and claimed it; he turned, braced himself against the back of the car, and watched Guffin writhe in pain.
“You ... you
bit
me.”
Donovan blinked. “You kidnapped my wife.”
He climbed to his feet, wincing at the sharp pain stabbing into his ribs, and approached his wife’s assailant, aiming the gun at Guffin’s head.
“Start talking, Mr. Guffin.”
Blood gushed from the wound in his ankle, forming a dark pool around his leg. Supine and vulnerable, Guffin was far smaller than Donovan first realized. Buried within the bulk of the coat and draped in the remains of a suit was a small-framed man suffering from weeks, if not months of starvation. As the rain fell down upon them, Donovan Candle felt pity for him.
“Fuck you, Candle-man.” Guffin spat.
Donovan squeezed the trigger. The recoil sent the bullet off course, barely missing Guffin’s head. It startled Donovan so badly that he almost dropped the gun.
“He played me,” Guffin groaned. “He’ll play you, too. Dullington’s sadistic. He’s using us, feeding on us. ”
Feeding on us
. Donovan shivered.
“There are others like you ‘n me. He lets us out sometimes, only lets people see us when he wants them to. Some forget about us and others don’t. We’re just his pupp—” Guffin’s eyes grew wide. He screamed. “Oh God, please no, not now—”
At first Donovan did not understand what was happening, or to whom Guffin was speaking. The hiss of rain became muffled, and when he blinked, he found himself in the midst of the gray sight. Sensations of rain and damp air were displaced by an unsettling emptiness; the sprawling cityscape was but a lifeless outline on the horizon.
Donovan blinked a second time, and the gray sight still remained. He looked down just in time to watch his body flicker and solidify.
George Guffin moaned. Donovan looked up and saw the man flickering as well. The pool of blood around his ankle now appeared as a black puddle.
“—no, please no, please,
please! What did I do wrong?
”
A low, mournful sob came from behind. Donovan turned, and watched in frightened awe as one of the albino figures approached. His whole body went cold. The world was soundless but for his heart, pounding with a fury all its own.
“Not the Yawning!
ALEISTER! PLEASE!
”
As the albino thing neared, Donovan realized just how large it actually was: seven, maybe even eight feet tall. Its hulking arms stretched down to the ground, dragging lazily behind as it took one determined step after another. It paused for a moment, regarding Donovan with its empty eyes, then uttered a low sound that could only be described as Guffin had in his shriek mere moments before.
Yawning.
Guffin beckoned to Donovan. “Help me! Candle-man, I-I’m sorry, just—
fuck, just
HELP ME! HELP M—
”
The Yawning stood over Guffin and leered, swaying to and fro on its spindly legs. Its mouth shivered and twitched. Donovan could only watch, frozen in place by his terror. The Yawning’s mouth trembled a moment longer, then opened. Wide, wider still, it formed an elongated, gaping maw that appeared to be bottomless.
And still its mouth opened, stretching until its jaw hit the ground.
Guffin screamed. “
NO!
This is for Donna
, he thought, and bit down even harder.
Guffin uttered a scream rivaled only by the thunderclap overhead. He fell backward, kicking his foot free of Donovan’s mouth. A chunk of flesh came away with it. When Donovan realized he still held a piece of Guffin between his teeth, he spat it out and retched. Guffin cried in agony as he scrambled to put pressure on the wound.
Lightning split the sky, followed by another heavy crash of thunder. Sheets of rain fell down upon them. It made seeing difficult, but Donovan found what he was looking for in the pale light. The gun lay just beside the car’s rear tire. He crawled across the pavement and claimed it; he turned, braced himself against the back of the car, and watched Guffin writhe in pain.
“You ... you
bit
me.”
Donovan blinked. “You kidnapped my wife.”
He climbed to his feet, wincing at the sharp pain stabbing into his ribs, and approached his wife’s assailant, aiming the gun at Guffin’s head.
“Start talking, Mr. Guffin.”
Blood gushed from the wound in his ankle, forming a dark pool around his leg. Supine and vulnerable, Guffin was far smaller than Donovan first realized. Buried within the bulk of the coat and draped in the remains of a suit was a small-framed man suffering from weeks, if not months of starvation. As the rain fell down upon them, Donovan Candle felt pity for him.
“Fuck you, Candle-man.” Guffin spat.
Donovan squeezed the trigger. The recoil sent the bullet off course, barely missing Guffin’s head. It startled Donovan so badly that he almost dropped the gun.
“He played me,” Guffin groaned. “He’ll play you, too. Dullington’s sadistic. He’s using us, feeding on us. ”
Feeding on us
. Donovan shivered.
“There are others like you ‘n me. He lets us out sometimes, only lets people see us when he wants them to. Some forget about us and others don’t. We’re just his pupp—” Guffin’s eyes grew wide. He screamed. “Oh God, please no, not now—”
At first Donovan did not understand what was happening, or to whom Guffin was speaking. The hiss of rain became muffled, and when he blinked, he found himself in the midst of the gray sight. Sensations of rain and damp air were displaced by an unsettling emptiness; the sprawling cityscape was but a lifeless outline on the horizon.
Donovan blinked a second time, and the gray sight still remained. He looked down just in time to watch his body flicker and solidify.
George Guffin moaned. Donovan looked up and saw the man flickering as well. The pool of blood around his ankle now appeared as a black puddle.
“—no, please no, please,
please! What did I do wrong?
”
A low, mournful sob came from behind. Donovan turned, and watched in frightened awe as one of the albino figures approached. His whole body went cold. The world was soundless but for his heart, pounding with a fury all its own.
“Not the Yawning!
ALEISTER! PLEASE!
”
As the albino thing neared, Donovan realized just how large it actually was: seven, maybe even eight feet tall. Its hulking arms stretched down to the ground, dragging lazily behind as it took one determined step after another. It paused for a moment, regarding Donovan with its empty eyes, then uttered a low sound that could only be described as Guffin had in his shriek mere moments before.
Yawning.
Guffin beckoned to Donovan. “Help me! Candle-man, I-I’m sorry, just—
fuck, just
HELP ME! HELP M—
”
The Yawning stood over Guffin and leered, swaying to and fro on its spindly legs. Its mouth shivered and twitched. Donovan could only watch, frozen in place by his terror. The Yawning’s mouth trembled a moment longer, then opened. Wide, wider still, it formed an elongated, gaping maw that appeared to be bottomless.
And still its mouth opened, stretching until its jaw hit the ground.
Guffin screamed. “
NO!
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