Darren
I braced myself for impact, preparing to launch myself at the beast and go for its neck. The gargoyle slammed into me, stone claws flashing. I braced for the razoring pain, the crunch of bone, the tearing of skin. Instead, there was a jolt—like grabbing a live wire, but deeper. The shock ripped through every nerve in my body, a white-blue blast that snapped my head back. The thing’s hands clamped around my throat, stone fingers digging in. Its eyes were featureless, just glassy pits that burned with a cold, alien hunger. I could see myself reflected in them, teeth bared, lips peeled back in a snarl. Every instinct told me to phase, to let the beast take over, to meet power with power. But the lightning inside me was too wild. It made shifting impossible. My body wouldn’t listen.
I
