Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) by Justus R. Stone Page B

a series of sickening snaps and gushes. The eyes that still stared at Gwynn and Pridament went yellow and feline. His jaw gnashed and extended downward, revealing a series of razor sharp teeth.
    Gwynn couldn’t move. Something stirred in the darkest corner of his mind. A memory of some past horror started to shuffle forward. He tried to block it out, focusing on the real horror taking shape in front of him.
    “No. No. No. God, no.” Gwynn’s voice shrieked.
    Pridament gripped Gwynn’s shoulder. “You need to go and close that tear.”
    A chill seeped through Gwynn’s limbs, freezing him to the spot.
    “Gwynn!” Pridament yelled and shook him. “Gwynn!”
    Gwynn stirred. “What?”
    “You need to close that tear.”
    “How?”
    “Just touch it with your right arm. Imagine a door closing in your head when you do. Just trust yourself, you can do it.”
    The creature below them howled a high pitch that tore at Gwynn’s ears and nerves.
    “Go!” Pridament yelled.
    Gwynn stumbled, but turned and clawed his way up the remaining stairs. The heavy slapping sound of flesh against wood signaled the monster’s ascent.
    The hair on Gwynn’s neck stood on end, like he had built up a static charge. He spared a moment to glance back. Pridament, armed with a staff, stood ready to meet the monster’s advance.
    Gwynn launched himself onto the landing and slammed hard into the wall. He fell to his knees as the air went out from him. The hall became a fun–house parody of the place Gwynn recalled—it twisted and curved under his feet. Gwynn fell from the wall to the banister as he made his way to the door he hoped would still lead him to the attic. From behind, the sounds of battle drew his attention—Pridament sparring with the creature.
    Gwynn inched toward the door at the end of the hall and saw the attic ladder still lowered. He seized hold and started to climb.
    Breaching the attic felt like surfacing from beneath water. It seemed unaffected by the madness in the rest of the house. A cool breeze blew through the hole the explosion had torn in the roof. For a moment, Gwynn could forget the insanity his life had become. The air smelled pure. Sounds of the battle raging below his feet broke the moment and Gwynn poured his eyes over the attic. After the third pass with his eyes, he started to panic. He couldn’t see the tear. What if he couldn’t close it? Would he lose his mind? Would phantom monsters keep bleeding into his world? He pushed himself forward in a frantic search. Just as fear threatened to crush him, he brushed a cold spot. The chill ran up his arm into his spine. Seeing it now, he understood why he had missed it. From one angle, nothing. From another, a slight ripple similar to the horizon on a road during a hot day. Gwynn reached a tentative hand toward the tear. The first time hurt so much, and he couldn’t ignore the destruction in evidence all around him. His life, Sophia’s life, all torn apart in a single moment. Should he take the plunge again?
    His fingers stroked the top of the tear and tingled, like touching a balloon rubbed vigorously through someone’s hair.
    Something hit him hard and sent him flying away. He struck what remained of the roof and tasted blood in his mouth.
    Above the ringing in his ears, a voice said, “Time to die, Suture brat.”
    §
    She had never questioned orders. Even as she made her way to his office, Fuyuko’s stomach churned. She paused outside the door with her hand raised, ready to knock. Maybe she should forget it. Perhaps she should appreciate the easiness of this assignment. After all, schoolwork had been the hardest part so far, and it was pedestrian compared to her regular studies.
    “Are you going to stand out there all day, or come in?” A loud, deep, voice boomed from the other side of the door.
    Fuyuko entered the office, taking note of the Spartan conditions. How did others interpret it? A lack of interest? Desire to separate personal and