Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

terrible as the rest of him. All sound seemed muffled, as if his ears were
stuffed with cotton. When he spoke, it sounded like it came from someone
else, his voice cracking. “Hello? Are you … can you hear me?”
The man’s head snapped up as his arms twitched. On either wrist, angry
welts rose the length of his forearms, making a T shape.
He turned around slowly.
Wallace Price was clinical to an almost inhuman degree. Details were his
job, the little things others might have missed, something said in passing in a
deposition or during intake interviews. And it was this attribute that caused
him to catalogue each and every bit of the man before him: the dull, dead
hair, the open mouth with blackened teeth, the horrifying, flat look in his eyes.
The thing was shaped like a human, but he looked feral, dangerous, and if
Wallace had felt fear before, it was nothing compared to what roared through
him now. A mistake. He’d made a mistake. He should’ve never tried to speak
to this … this thing, whatever it was. Even as his skin continued to rise
around him, Wallace tried to take a step back.
His legs didn’t work.
The stars blotted out until all Wallace knew was the dark of night,
shadows stretching around him, reaching, reaching.
The man moved toward him, but it was awkward, as if the joints in his
knees were frozen. He rocked from side to side with each step. He raised an
arm, all fingers pointed toward the ground except one that was trained on
Wallace. He opened his mouth again but no words came out, only a low
animalistic grunt. Wallace’s mind whited out in terror, and he knew, he knew
that when the man touched him, his skin would be thin like paper, dry and
catastrophic. And though he’d been told God didn’t exist, Wallace prayed
then, for the first time in years, a dying gasp of a thought that arced through
his head like a shooting star:!!HELP ME OH PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!!
Movement then, sudden and quick as Hugo appeared between them, his
back to Wallace. Relief like Wallace had never felt before bowled through
him, knocking violently through his ribcage. The cable had shrunk to only a
couple of feet, extending from Wallace around to Hugo’s chest.
He said, “Cameron, no. You can’t. He’s not yours.”
A dull clacking sound followed, and though Wallace couldn’t see the man,
he knew the noise came from him snapping his teeth together.
“I know,” Hugo said quietly. “But he’s not for you. He never was.”