Available Darkness Season 2

reminded Hannah of a cartoon villain, so much so that she had to suppress a smile, so as not to offend.
    “Hello, ma’am,” the cartoon villain said in a German accent, making him seem even more like a cliché, nodding toward Hannah but not offering his hand for hers, as if too shy to shake it.
    OK, he’s not weird at all.
    “This is Mr. Skinner,” Greg said. “He would like to examine you.”
    “What?” Hannah said, unable to hide her alarm. “What do you mean, examine me?”
    Mathews took a step forward wearing his big fake smile. “It’s nothing like you’re thinking, Ms. Quinn. Mr. Skinner isn’t a doctor. He’s something of a specialist, here to help us find something.”
    Not a doctor; oh, that’s a relief.
    “I’m confused,” Hannah said. “What’s happening, Greg?”
    “Just relax,” he said, his voice reassuring as he stuck her in the neck with something. Hannah could barely register what it was before she saw the needle in his hand.
    “What the… ,” she couldn’t finish her sentence before falling back.
    Greg caught her and set her gently back in the chair.
    What the hell are you doing?
    She could barely feel her body, or his touch. Hannah could only sense it as if it were happening to someone else. She felt as if she were swimming through the middle of a weird dream. She turned to Greg, their eyes meeting for a breath, but she was finding it difficult to focus. She tried to ask why but Hannah’s mouth ignored her mind.
    The tall German leaned closer, placing his hands over Hannah’s chest. She tried to move, repulsed by the thought of the strange man touching her, but she couldn’t even twitch with her entire body, which was numb and unresponsive.
    The man continued to hold his hands over Hannah, moving them back and forth, hovering centimeters above her body without touching her. He turned back to Mathews and pointed directly at Hannah’s chest. “It’s here. Next to her heart.”
    Mathews pulled the phone from his pocket, mashed his thumb on the glass, waited a few seconds, then said, “How quickly can we get a surgeon here?”
    Surgeon?
    After a painfully long silence Mathews said, “Tomorrow’s too long. We’ll just cut her open.”
    What? Cut me open? Why? What’s happening?!
    Hannah’s heart raced; a crashing plane between her ears as her mind tried to find sense in her surroundings. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t cut through the chaos. She wished her inner whisper would chime in and offer a clue, but it was inconveniently silent, leaving her alone and afraid — again.
    “What?” Greg said, clearly alarmed. “You can’t just cut her open. She’ll die.”
    “Not my concern,” Mathews said. “She has what I want, and I’m not waiting until tomorrow. Who knows how long until … ”
    A high pitched buzzing sound ripped through the room, and somewhere, Hannah heard what sounded like gunfire erupting.
    What’s happening?
    A voice crackled through on Mathews’s phone. “Harbinger is here!”
    Harbinger? Who?
    Mathews pointed at the creepy German. “You, stay with her. Make sure no one comes in.” He handed the man a gun. “And make sure she doesn’t leave.”
    Mathews grabbed Greg’s arm, and they raced from the room. Greg looked back at Hannah as if it was the last time he would ever see her again.
    Hannah was suddenly alone with the creepy man, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest.

    * * * *

CHAPTER 6 — John

    Jacob is here.
    John thought it moments before he heard the first rounds of gunfire cracking from somewhere in the building. John stared at the door, waiting for it to burst open and for Jacob, or worse, his henchmen or monsters, to come storming through to kill him once and for all.
    More gunshots, followed by screaming.
    John tried reaching out to feel what was happening, and see how many enemies Jacob brought with him, but too much chaos made sense of nothing. The world on the other side of the door bubbled with fear, screams, and pain — the writhing anguish of many. To dip in without losing himself in the flood would be impossible in John’s current state, drugged and weakened, his body still slowly stitching from its earlier burning at Mathews’ hands.
    John wondered how well he’d be able to fight when death came to claim him. Maybe he’d get lucky, he hoped, and the first to attack through the door would be caught unprotected and unaware. Then, John might be able to feed from