Words as Thick as Blood

Paul could feel the Proxitol starting to wear off. His mind felt clearer, sharper -- but strangely distant, as though he experienced everything from behind a pane of glass. His only immediate sensation was that of the throbbing heat on his leg. He could feel it pulsing painfully, spreading.

"Are you all right?"

Still behind the glass pane, Paul looked up at Maya -- and stared. Something writhed beneath her pale skin. Where before it was smooth and clear, now colors shifted and swirled. Vermilion, indigo, mahogany, rust...

The infection seemed to grow more intense, like a hot brand pressing into his skin. Paul almost cried out, but the sound seemed to choke before leaving his lips. Maya frowned at him, -- colors tugged at her lips -- and repeated, sounding more concerned, "Are you all right, love?"

That was what she said. But what Paul heard was a slow drip of words, lazily falling from Maya's mouth like thick blood. They landed on him like paint spatters, filling his ears with sounds like bright colors --

"I shall have this world for my own. And you shall not stand in my way."

The heat of the infection flared, as if trying to leap out of Paul's skin and reach the virus that filled Maya. This time Paul let out a strangled yelp, and as Maya's frown deepened, whispered, "What -- Are you going to kill me?"

Maya fingered the sword that lay at her hip. Her whole face was now creased in concern, a thin veil over the whirling colors. "No. Well, only as a last resort..."

But the colors under her skin churned faster, hues darkening. "Ah," the thing inside Maya said. Its words slipped out like honey, like poison, splashing onto him. "The progeny is awakening."