From Beyond the Darkening © 2008 by Kerry Allen

Chapter One

      ”The butchers delivered fresh meat.”

      Amanda kept her face pressed to the microscope, her scribbled notes barely keeping up with the rapidly degenerating liver tissue on the slide beneath the lens. “In the middle of something here. I’m sure I’ll meet him later.”

      ”I wouldn’t count on later.” Spencer bumped the table with his hip, jarring the cluster of cells she’d been studying out of the magnification field. Employed by virtue of nepotism, he was a stranger to work, incapable of understanding anyone else’s desire to engage in such an activity, and had made it his mission in life to convert her to the shiftless side. “They had him out in the desert for a week. He’s in bad shape.”

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From Beyond the Darkening © 2008 by Kerry Allen

Chapter Two

       She walked home. If anyone questioned the break from habit, she could blame a stomach virus and produce the vomit to substantiate the claim.

      She stripped and stood in the shower, a full blast of icy water beating against her body. Her skin shrank from the abuse, but she didn’t adjust the temperature. Cold. She had to be cold.

      The spray beaded and coursed down on the stark white tile like tears. She smeared them away with her fist. There was no room in the directive for tears.

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From Beyond the Darkening © 2008 by Kerry Allen 

Chapter Three

       The cab driver must have overcome his disapproval long enough to report her alleged breakdown. Why tonight, of all nights, did she have to encounter a conscientious human being?

      ”Thank you so much for rescuing me from that nice windowless building.”

      Her eyes darted toward the eastern horizon, though it couldn’t yet be midnight. “Dawn is hours away. There’s no need to panic.” She added that last part for her own benefit, since Nate’s sarcasm pointed more toward annoyance than apprehension.

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From Beyond the Darkening © 2008 by Kerry Allen 

Chapter Four

       She broke her vow not to cry. She was quiet about it, but in that still, stale space, her tears smelled like spring rain, overpowering the aroma of earth and mildew and long-dead things decaying in the walls.

      Nate knew the smell of her tears. He’d always hated it.

      She was crying the first time he saw her, sitting on the sidewalk with her freshly skinned knees pulled up to her chest, sucking air in the weird reverse-sob little kids did that usually preceded an ear-shattering wail. Like any self-respecting seven-year-old boy confronted with a weeping female, he would have run in the opposite direction—if not for the blood.

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From Beyond the Darkening © 2008 by Kerry Allen 

Chapter Five

       When he woke, instinct pointed him toward the nearest source of blood and dragged him halfway across the room on his hands and knees before his mind became alert and reestablished command of his limbs.

      He retreated to his corner and wiped the sweat from his face. The fever accelerated draining of his reserves. He needed to feed soon, before he added physical damage to his list of crimes against Amanda. “You can quit holding your breath. It’s passed.”

      ”My offer stands. I’ll give you enough blood to get you through a few more hours.”

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