The man in front of Blake can hardly be called human anymore.

Long, sharp claws, a deformed jaw with teeth that can no longer be hidden by lips, a glint of madness in his eyes, a sparkling, too-bright blue.

It grins, as much as these jaws are capable of smiling. He looks pleased.

The body on the ground in front of him is no longer moving.

Blake takes a step back, uncaring of how the beakers fall to the ground as he bumps into a table. The door – a weapon – something!

The man – Darius – the monster – looks up at him. He’s still dressed as he was half an hour ago, the white cravat now stained with blood dripping from his mouth, the dark blue velvet looking brighter than ever.

It extends one hand – claw – to Blake, and for a moment he thinks he will join the body on the floor.

“Breathe,” Darius says – growls, the familiar voice giddy and slightly slurred. “Breathe, my dear assistant. This is your job now.”

Blake takes a shuddering breath in, unable to disobey. He hasn’t realized that he was holding his breath, or that his hands and knees are shaking. He breathes again, panic making his lungs tiny, and drops to the ground, the coldness of the bare floor startling him a little from his stupor.

The monster kneels in front of him, the touch of the claws almost delicate on Blake’s cheek. The smell of blood and electricity hits Blake, and he holds his breath again, trembling.

“Breathe,” it croons once more, and then laughs, delighted and menacing. “What else can you do?”

Darius helps Blake up, not too rough, but not so careful as for the claws not to leave a few cuts. He turns Blake towards the body, holds his shoulders, whispers in his ear, the teeth barely an inch away from his ear, from his throat.

“It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”