The tables that usually displayed tasteful arrangements of crystals and tarot cards and other New Age bric-a-brac were utterly destroyed. They lay in splinters on the ground, crushing the merchandise they’d once held. To my right, the glass case in the sales counter had been smashed. I knew Nathan kept an ax in the cupboard behind it. I moved in that direction as quietly as I could with glass crunching beneath my shoes.

Something shuffled in the labyrinth of bookshelves behind me.

The noise froze me for an instant as I weighed the distance to the door against the odds I’d be able to effectively defend myself with the ax. I dismissed the notion of running. I couldn’t leave Nathan behind, not if there was even the barest chance he might be saved.

I sprinted the last few steps to the cupboard and retrieved the ax. I tried to force some courage into my stiff fingers as I gripped the handle. Whatever had broken in was still in the shop.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The thing hiding in the shadows growled.

The clock behind the counter chimed. I jumped. The creature sprang out at me.

My head bounced off the hard floor as the thing brought me down, and nasty fireworks of pain exploded in my vision. The smell of Nathan’s blood, usually a welcome, familiar perfume, filled my nostrils with a sour tang, and I gagged. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and my muscles tensed as I tried not to vomit.

The weight of the thing pressing down on me lifted. I opened my eyes in time to see it leap behind the counter, its noisy respirations nearly drowning out the repeated chimes of the clock.

“Nathan?” I shrieked, barely recognizing my own voice for the panic in it. I screamed his name again. There was no answer.

It became starkly, startlingly clear to me: Nathan couldn’t come to my aid. I was alone with this creature, and woefully unequipped to defend myself.

A loud snarl sounded behind the counter. In a split second of sheer terror, I threw the ax that way. It hit the cash register and bounced to the floor, out of my reach.

Alone. Woefully unequipped. And blindingly stupid.

I didn’t have long to worry about it. The creature leaped over the countertop and tackled me. My breath escaped in a loud whoosh, and I looked up through a haze of pain at the thing holding me down.

A man. A naked, bleeding man.

The creature hadn’t killed Nathan. The creature was Nathan.

His face twisted in a feral snarl. His eyes were cold and devoid of recognition. He gripped a shard of blood-drenched glass in his fist. Bloody symbols marred his arms and chest, and I realized with a fresh wave of nausea that he’d carved them into his own flesh.