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“To serve. To witness. To carry the divine.”

I'd heard similar speeches from victims before—people so desperate for meaning that they'd welcome possession, sacrifice, even death if it came with the promise of purpose. It never ended well for them.

“Whatever you think is happening, it doesn't have to end like this,” I said, stepping forward cautiously. “I know about the prayer revival. About Brother Michael and the others who died. Their eyes burned out, Edward. Is that what you want?”

For a moment, doubt flickered across Hayes's face. Then the light beneath his skin pulsed brighter, and his expression cleared.

“You don't understand,” he whispered, his breathing becoming more labored. “It's a gift.”

Then he doubled over, a groan tearing from his throat as light flickered more intensely beneath his skin. The symbols on the walls began to glow in response, pulsing in rhythm with the light emanating from Hayes's body.

The glow started in Edward's chest, spreading outward in jagged veins of white fire that traced the path of his blood vessels. His fingers flexed and convulsed at his sides, his head tilting back as his spine arched at an unnatural angle. His face contorted in an expression caught between agony and ecstasy, like a religious painting of a martyr welcoming death.

I lunged forward, grabbing Hayes by the shoulders. “Hey! Stay with me! We can fix this!”

But he didn't seem to hear me anymore. His skin was hot to the touch, burning like he had a fever of a hundred and ten. He fell to his knees, dragging me down with him as I tried to keep hold. His eyes snapped open, and I jerked back involuntarily. They were burning from within, pure white light replacing iris and pupil.

“Ah, shit,” I muttered, scrambling backward. This was exactly what had happened to the other victims, according to the reports. The burning eyes, right before death. But something was different here, the light wasn't just in his eyes, it was throughout his entire body.

I pulled out my phone, frantically trying to call Cade again, but the screen showed no signal. Whatever was happening here was interfering with more than just Skye's satellite connection.

I'd been in this business long enough to know when to retreat. Whatever was coming through Hayes, I couldn't stop it alone. I turned toward the door, only to find my path blocked by an invisible barrier—I could feel it, like walking into a wall of solid air.

“Fecking perfect,” I growled, spinning back to face Hayes. The man was hovering now, a foot off the ground, arms outstretched as the light within him grew blinding. The symbols on the walls had begun to smolder, burning themselves into the plaster and wood like they were feeding off the power surging through the air.

I shielded my eyes as the light intensified, crackling with raw, searing energy that made the hair on my arms stand on end. The air itself seemed to vibrate, a high-pitched ringing growing louder until it was almost painful.

“Don't fight it, Sean.”

The voice pierced through the ringing, so powerful it felt like daggers in my eardrums. I winced, the words barely comprehensible beneath the overwhelming frequency that threatened to split my skull. It wasn't Hayes's voice—it was older, deeper, carrying a weight that pressed against my very consciousness.

“You cannot prevent what must be.”

Before I could respond, there was a detonation of white light. It tore through the room like a concussive blast, rattling the walls and sending me stumbling back against the far wall. The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, spots dancing before my eyes as I fought to remain conscious. The air was charged with energy, every hair on my body standing on end, the taste of ozone sharp on my tongue.

For a moment, I thought I was going to die. That whatever had just happened had done to me what it had done to the other victims. But the light receded, leaving me dazed but alive, my ears ringing painfully.

When the brightness faded enough for me to see, Hayes stood there, but somehow utterly transformed. Though his physical appearance remained the same, something else now inhabited his body - I could see it in his eyes.

The glow dissipated, leaving the room in near darkness save for the moonlight filtering through the grimy windows. Hayes remained in the same position, but his posture had changed completely—rigid, unnaturally still, with a presence that didn't belong to the man I'd been tracking. His eyes had shifted from their previous warm brown to something cold and ancient. Though his face was familiar, the expression it wore was entirely foreign—impassive, detached, as if a stranger was looking out through Hayes's features. Power radiated from him like heat from a furnace.

I pushed myself up from the floor, gun still clutched in my hand. My back hit the wall, steadying me as I raised my weapon. Every instinct told me bullets would be useless against whatever now wore Hayes's skin, but old habits die hard.

“What the feck?” I growled, trying to keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline pounding through my veins. “What did you do to Hayes?”

Hayes's body turned toward me with mechanical precision, head tilting slightly as he studied me. His movements were too smooth, too deliberate, like whatever was inside him was learning how to pilot a human body for the first time.

“Edward Hayes served his purpose,” the thing wearing Hayes's face said, the voice still Hayes's but now deep and flat, lacking any human inflection. “He was willing.”

I kept my gun trained on him, though my hand shook slightly. The air in the room felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. The symbols burned into the walls cast eerie shadows across Hayes's face, making him look even less human.

“Who are you?” I demanded, sidling along the wall toward the door. Not that I thought running would help, but I'd rather not be cornered.

“Names have power,” Hayes replied, his expression unchanging. There was a coldness to him, a complete absence of humanity that was more unnerving than any monster I'd faced before.

“Well, you seem to know mine,” I snapped, finger tightening on the trigger. Not that I planned to shoot—yet—but the familiar pressure was reassuring.

Hayes took a step toward me, and the lights in the room flickered wildly. The air pressure changed, making my ears pop. Behind him, I could have sworn I saw a strange distortion, like heat waves rising from hot asphalt.