The Spark

Before

Arcata, California
Two weeks earlier

I could smell the blood from a block away.

Feet pounding against the concrete, I sprinted past rows of houses lining the high-end cul-de-sac, flickering lampposts guiding my way. The world around me was a dark blur—my heart felt like it was on the verge of bursting, yet it still kept pumping. Urging me on.

-Get to her house. Get to her house.

Nothing else mattered.

The wind blew strands of hair in my face, and I took a sharp turn. A three-story stone and wood monstrosity rose to meet my gaze. Amongst the clutter of grey beasts, slumbering peacefully in the shadows, this house was the only one with the lights on. But the lights weren't coming from the inside. The shimmering red fog that enveloped the brick walls emanated from the front lawn.

Another gust of wind brought the stench of blood into my nostrils—along with the tang of rot and sulfur. The smell of hell.

The demons were already here.

-Hell's rotten tit!

I rushed toward the house, my fists balled. As I suspected, an ugly, red pentagram marred the pristinely kept front lawn, gangly demonic runes pulsing in all five of its prongs. The writing was too complex for me to decode, but I wagered a guess as to what the runes did since none of the neighbors seemed to notice the noise and smells coming from the house. An illusion spell, meant to fool the human senses.

But not mine.

All the fight went out of me the instant I heard the shrieks. The bloodcurdling wails danced in tandem with the inhuman growls, and the wet, sloppy sounds of flesh tearing. It was like a gory symphony—the same symphony I'd heard on that faithful night when my life was engulfed in red.

-Maker grant me a swift end.

I dry heaved, my body torn between salivating over the smell of human blood, and gagging at the stench of sulfur. There were at least 10 of them in there. I could hear the clicking of their jaws, the tapping of their feet as they scuttled around the house, dragging with them their freshly slaughtered prey.

Someone was already dead.

-Get to Kahlan!

Alarm bells went off in my mind, as I drew closer to the red film. My skin prickled in protest when my finger made contact with the thick, curdled fog—it quivered briefly but didn't throw me back.

Hell hadn't had the foresight to make their ward ring repel Night Creatures as well.

I didn't know whether to gloat or scream.

I forced myself through the fog, ignoring the hot pinpricks stabbing into my flesh. Straining to keep each step as light as possible I stalked down the walkway to the porch. The front door was left ajar, and I pressed myself against the wall next to it, straining to peek inside. Arctic cold, far worse than the spring chill outside streamed through the crack, and biting my cheek was all I could do not to shiver. Ghostly darkness coated the hallway, silent and still. I drew closer, forcing my eyes to adjust for a better look.

A shape cut through the black. I stumbled backward.

-Wolf-balls!

Finding my footing at the last second, I crouched beside the door, holding my breath. I was going to die tonight.

I heard the thing stomp through the house and make a sudden halt after about thirty paces. Soft, distinctly feminine whimpers followed the hissing and growling, along with the clanking of metal. When the thin note of lavender broke through the grime of sulfur and gore, everything came into focus.