Rebecca realized with a jolt of horror that the sigil wasn't on the bodies. It was etched into the palm of her own hand, glowing a bruised purple. The "free download" of her soul was complete; the mortuary wasn't her workplace anymore. It was her cage.
The room plunged into darkness. When the emergency red lights kicked in, the elderly man on the table was sitting up. His jaw hung at an impossible angle, and his eyes had been replaced by swirling, oily voids. He raised a finger, pointing not at her, but at the incinerator. Rebecca realized with a jolt of horror that
She peeled back the sheet on the gurney. Nothing. She checked the woman in cold storage. Nothing. oily voids. He raised a finger