Page 80 of Squad Ghouls
He can have control, my dick replied.
God dammit.
Speaking of Owain in my brain though, apparently he was a tractor.
I grunted, kicking my foot out to stop the snoring. It didn’t stop. If anything, it got louder. He was too fucking cute to sound like a broken chainsaw. I nudged harder, catching his shin and making him suck in a breath that sounded heavy and almost pained for the amount of force I had applied.
My sleep-addled brain decided it didn’t like that so it started nagging me to wake up, to check on him, to see if maybe I could fuck him back to peaceful slumber.
My brain had pretty decent ideas sometimes.
I cracked an eye open, turning on my side to look at him.
I was met with a grotesque, hairy monster sitting on Owain’s chest in a shaft of moonlight, pressing its filthy claws into his neck and causing him to nearly choke.
I scrambled out of bed as quickly as I could, fear clutching at my insides, a scream building in my throat as I scrambled for the light switch.
I clicked it and nothing happened. Not a singular mote of light as I went crazy on it, hammering against it with my fist as if that would help. “FUCK!”
I spun, searching for any of my equipment desperately in the darkness.
The thing watched. It tracked me around the room, turning on its hind legs in a circle on Owain’s ribs, releasing loud growls and clutching Owain’s throat harder.
The snores I’d wanted to stop just minutes ago were now the only proof he was still alive. He was thrashing under the thing, mouth open wide in a silent scream. His eyes were closed and he was drenched in sweat. His usually flushed skin was pale, turning a shade of blue I didn’t think I’d hated until I saw it on his lips and eyelids.
He looked tortured. He was being tortured. And I was standing there, heart thundering in fear and head completely empty of ideas.
It looked nothing like a ghost. Any ghost I’d ever seen was a human, or at least whatever was left of a human. It was floaty and translucent and I had some semblance of an idea of how to fight it. At least the bare bones of it.
This was a fucking beast.
It looked like a cross between a gigantic cat, a feral raccoon, and whatever crawled out of the pet cemetery on a full moon. But bigger. Almost human in size. Hunched in on itself to fit onto Owain’s smaller form. It engulfed him, swallowed him almost, and stole his breath.
Owain gurgled as if trying to say something. As if his mind was there behind the prison of his sleeping body. It kicked me into gear.
I grabbed an ornate tin from one of the shelves and threw it at the thing as hard as I could. It went clean through it and clanged against the wall next to the bed.
The thing let out a hiss, baring its teeth at me and moving that unnatural body higher on Owain’s ribcage, sitting right above his heart, looking at me as if in triumph, daring me to try again and give it a reason to speed up the process of choking Owain to death.
“What the fuck are you?” I growled at it, desperation making me stupid.
Owain was getting quieter. Weaker. It made my blood run cold and I got down on my fucking hands and knees to search the floor for my tool belt, wanting to cry when my hand eventually hit something.
I unbuckled the PolterPulse and stood up, pointing it at the thing. I had to be steady. I had to calm down. I was a decent shot, but not when somebody that important was in the crossfire.
“Shoot it!” I heard a voice from my right and turned to find Bronwyn staring at Owain in pure horror.
“Trying to,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to aim.
“He’s dying!” Bronwyn said.
“And I’m trying not to help him along by shooting him in the fucking head. Step back,” I spat at her and she moved back without arguing.
I looked at Owain. At this person who’d become my world in just a few short days, and I sucked in a breath. He would not be taken from me before I even really got him.
I held my breath before blasting the full force of the PolterPulse right at the thing’s head. It made a gigantic, scorch mark.
On the wall behind the thing.
