Vargas stepped toward us with his hands open, ignoring what stood behind him.
"Eduur, listen to me!" the lieutenant shouted. "I've got recordings of Méndez taking bribes! I know he runs the slaughterhouse! Get in the car—I'll get you out of here before their reinforcements arrive!"
"Behind you!" I yelled.
Vargas frowned, confused. "What—?"
The shadow moved. It was a blur. It leapt from the darkness, vaulting over the roof of the central patrol car like a giant spider. It landed on the hood of Vargas's cruiser with a metallic crunch that shattered the windshield.
"What the hell?!" Vargas stumbled back, drawing his gun by reflex.
The creature rose on the dented metal. It stood two meters tall. It had no face—only those red eyes and a mouth that looked like a vertical wound, stitched shut. It wore a suit in tatters that floated without wind, as if underwater.
"Shoot it!" Lena yelled at my side.
She didn't hesitate. She raised the pistol she'd taken from Méndez and opened fire.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The bullets hit the thing. I saw holes in its torso, but no blood came out. Black smoke did. The creature didn't even flinch. It turned its head toward us and let out a sound… a high, static screech—like a badly tuned radio that made our ears bleed.
"Get down!" Vargas shouted.
The creature leapt toward the officer at the left patrol car. It grabbed him by his bulletproof vest and hurled him through the air like a ragdoll. The cop flew ten meters and smashed into a dumpster.
It wasn't there to arrest us. It was there to play.
"Vargas!" I screamed to the lieutenant, who stared frozen by the horror of something impossible—"You can't kill it! Get us out of here or we'll all die!"
Vargas looked at me. His police brain tried to process the supernatural and failed. But his survival instinct worked.
"To the car! The rear one!" he roared, pointing to his own cruiser with the broken windshield but the engine still running.
Lena shoved me.
"Move!"
We ran. The creature was busy ripping open the hood of the other patrol car, tearing the engine free with bare hands. I grabbed Sofía and threw her into the back seat. Lena jumped in after her. I leaped into the passenger seat. Vargas dove behind the wheel, driving over broken glass.
"Start it!" Lena yelled from the back.
Vargas floored it. The tires screamed on wet asphalt. The car shot toward the alley exit, scraping walls and throwing sparks.
I checked the side mirror, expecting the creature to chase us.
But it didn't pursue. It stood there, framed by spinning lights, watching us. It lifted one pale, long hand and slowly waved.
"It marked us," I murmured, feeling a cold in my gut that had nothing to do with the temperature. "It let us go so we'd run."
---
We drove in silence for ten minutes, blowing red lights. Vargas kept his knuckles white on the wheel. He breathed like someone who'd just resurfaced after nearly drowning.
"What… what the hell was that?" Vargas asked without looking at me. "It wasn't human. I shot it three times in the chest. It didn't fall."
"I don't know," I lied. I knew it had to do with Anima's world, but I wasn't going to tell a cop that.
"It was a Recoverer," Lena said from the back seat, voice calm and cold as she checked Sofía for injuries.
Vargas and I turned.
"A what?" the lieutenant asked.
"The Syndicate doesn't only traffic drugs or people, lieutenant," Lena said, watching us through the rearview. "They traffic the 'special.' When someone like him"—she nodded at me—"or like my daughter appears on the radar, they send Recoverers. They're not thugs. They're… hunting dogs from another dimension."
Vargas gave a nervous laugh.
"Dimensions. Right. And I'm the tooth fairy. Look, ma'am, I don't know who you are, but I just watched a monster ruin my car. So I'll believe you… for now."
I looked at my hands.
My right hand—the one I used to heal Lena—was shaking. I felt… something odd. Not pain. A vacancy. I had drained Méndez's life and given it to Lena. But a small part of that energy had stayed in me, a dirty residue. And now, as it was fading, my body screamed for more.
It was a physical hunger. A visceral urge to touch someone and drain them. I could feel Vargas's neck—exposed and vulnerable as he drove. I could sense the pulse of his artery from here. If I touched him… if I absorbed only a little… I'd feel strong again.
"No!" I yelled in my head, forcing my gaze away and clenching my fists until my nails bit into my palms.
You liked it, didn't you? whispered a part of my mind that wasn't Anima but my own darkness waking up.
"Where are you taking us?" I asked, forcing my voice steady to distract myself from the hunger.
"I've got a safe house," Vargas said. "Off the radar. Méndez doesn't know about it. We'll be safe there until dawn and I can contact Internal Affairs."
"Méndez isn't going to speak to anyone for a while," I said quietly.
Vargas glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.
"Did you kill him?"
"No. I… incapacitated him."
Lena snorted from the back.
"You drained him dry, kid. That was worse than a bullet."
Vargas didn't press. I think he didn't want the answer.
---
The safe house was a small apartment in a brick building in the south. It smelled of dust and being shut up, but it had a steel door and metal shutters.
We moved in fast. Vargas locked three bolts and drew the curtains. Lena sat on the couch with Sofía, who'd fallen asleep from emotional exhaustion during the ride.
I leaned against the wall, my legs trembling.
The "Hunger" was getting worse. I felt feverish. Cold sweat ran down my back. My body—healed by magic—now seemed to reject its own vitality.
"You okay, Vance?" Vargas asked, pulling a first-aid kit from under the sink for Lena.
"I need… I need to sit."
I collapsed into a kitchen chair. The world spun. Lena approached me. Her bullet wound was gone—only a fresh pink scar where the hole had been. She looked into my eyes, studying my pupils.
"It's the price," she whispered so Vargas wouldn't hear. "You used blood-magic without training. Your body is in withdrawal."
"How do I stop it?" I rasped.
"Sleep," she said. "Your subconscious will know how to process it. Or it will kill you. Either way, you aren't useful while you're awake."
She was right. I needed to sleep. But sleeping meant facing Anima.
Anima, whom I'd summoned to hunt. Anima, who'd seen me use his power to steal life without his permission. He was going to be furious.
"Vargas," I said, fighting to keep my eyes open, "if… if I start talking in my sleep, or if I try to get up… don't touch me. Wake me from a distance. Throw water on me. But don't touch me."
Vargas stared at me suspiciously, but he nodded.
"Rest, kid. I'll take first watch."
Lena pulled her pistol and sat facing the door. She didn't trust Vargas, or me. She trusted a full magazine.
I closed my eyes. Fatigue pulled me like a black tide. There was no gentle transition. I plunged into the abyss.
---
I open my eyes.
I'm no longer in Vargas's apartment. I'm in the Dream Space. But something has changed. Gravity is heavier. The air smells of burned ozone and old blood. The Gate to the Spiritual World stands there, imposing and closed. But the golden veins that crossed it now pulse a dark red.
"Well, well, well."
Anima's voice doesn't come from everywhere this time. It comes from behind me. I turn.
Anima sits on a throne he's materialized from nothing. A throne of bones and black weapons. He has my face, but his eyes are black abysses and his smile is a raw wound. He's clapping slowly.
"The idealist. The saint. The child savior."
He rises and walks toward me. Each step makes the dream floor tremble.
"You used me," he says, his voice a growl. "You summoned me, you spent my energy, and when I ran dry… you learned a new trick."
He stops a hair from my face.
"You stole life, Eduur. You drained a man until he was a raisin. And you liked it. I felt it. I felt your thrill when that energy entered you."
"You had to," I answer, though my voice trembles in the dream. "Lena would have died. Méndez would have killed us."
"Excuses!" Anima roars, and the dreamscape bursts with thunder. "You did it because you are the same as me! Stop pretending you're better!"
He shoves me. I fly backward, but I don't feel pain. I feel power. Anima smiles.
"But we aren't here to discuss your hypocritical morality. We have a bigger problem."
He snaps his fingers. In the air, floating like a movie screen, the image of the red-eyed creature we saw in the alley appears.
"That thing…" Anima says, losing his mocking grin. "That thing isn't from the Syndicate. It's not a human in disguise."
"Lena called it a 'Recoverer,'" I say.
"Human names for things they don't understand," Anima spits. "That is a Dream-Eater. A predator of my kind. It feeds on us. On dream-energy."
Anima turns to me, and for the first time I see something like concern on his sadistic face.
"It marked you, Eduur. It put its trail on you. Now it knows where we are. It knows you have a Gate in your head."
"What does it want?"
"It wants to open me. It wants to eat me. And to do that, it has to break you first."
Anima grabs my shoulders.
"Listen carefully. The police can't stop it. Lena can't stop it. Only I can. So you better eat well and rest, because the next time that thing shows up… we're going to have a two-front war."
The dream begins to dissolve.
"Oh, and Eduur," Anima says as I fade—"welcome to the dark side. The first time hurts. The second… it's addictive."
I wake up.
---
I open my eyes on the sofa in the safe house. I'm soaked in sweat, but the fever has broken.
The room is silent. I check the wall clock. 03:00 AM.
Vargas sits in a chair by the door, head fallen on his chest. Asleep. I look at the other sofa. Lena sleeps too, clutching Sofía.
Something's wrong. Lena is a professional. She wouldn't fall asleep at the same time as Vargas.
I stand slowly. The floor creaks. No one moves. I go to Vargas and touch his shoulder.
"Lieutenant?"
No response. His breathing is slow—too slow. I look at Lena. Same. Deep sleep, almost comatose.
"Anima?" I think. "Was that you?"
No, his voice answers in my head, tense. Not me. Look at the window.
I glance at the curtained window. A black frost crawls from the frame inward. It isn't ice. It's solid shadow.
Then I hear it. The sound of the door lock turning slowly—from the outside. Someone is opening the three bolts. No key. No noise.
The Recoverer has found us. And it put my guardians to sleep.
I'm alone. Awake. And the predator is coming in.
"Shit."