Four simple words, that was all it took. There was no flashy magic or incantations, the words needn't have even been as direct as the ones I chose; they could have been an acknowledgement spoken entirely by accident and still served the same effect, but a part of me had wanted to make it totally clear to Jesse what was going on.

It seemed to happen in slow motion – though in reality it could have taken no more than a few minute for the entire transformation to take place. To begin with Frank stayed in his seat, a smile stretching his face and spreading far more broadly than should have been possible. It distorted his features and turned his face into a grotesque mask of its former self as he rose slowly to his feet.

Frank lifted both hands; something strange had happened to his fingers. Four inch long, shiny black talons had burst through the pink flesh of his human fingertips and proceeded to rip through the clothing that covered the top half of Frank's body. Bare to the waist, his clothes in shreds on the floor, Frank raised both hands to his chest once again and, with an expression of pain that twisted his face even more, sank those needle-like talons deep into the flesh below his ribs.

An inhuman strength rippled through the taught muscles in his arms as Frank heaved and pulled, splitting his human skin right down the middle. I watched as flesh tore and heard ribs crack as the inner cavity of his chest was exposed under the demonic strength that now possessed him. A rush of gore and viscera spilled out onto the floor casting a red sheen across the grey tiles. It was about then that the screams started.

People all around the room watched on in horror as Frank literally tore himself in half. The guard stopped approaching to reprimand Jesse for ignoring an order and even backed away a few paces; though Frank's back was to the man, the rush of blood was impossible to ignore. Behind me I could hear the retching and gagging of someone losing their lunch as they took in the live action horror show. A part of me wanted to turn around and see who had won the prize for weakest stomach in the room, but I just couldn't tear my eyes away from the grisly scene.

I was transfixed, completely mesmerised as I watched Frank's insides tumble out onto the floor; it didn't seem real. The blood looked too red, to bright under the overhead lights. His organs hung loose, misshapen hunks of meat swinging like gruesome pendulums with every motion of his body, or bathing in the cherry red pool that flooded the floor. But it was what I could now see lurking within the now vacant chest cavity that drew me in the most.

A billowing black shadow swirled inside the moist red space that had once contained Frank's vital organs, and I knew that swirling dark held the power of the demon. It was the only reason that human body remained standing, tearing itself to pieces as the power inside fought for release from its fleshy prison.

Frank continued to split his skin until he stood open and exposed from groin to throat, then he moved his grip higher. Pulling at the flaps of flesh he concentrated on tearing upwards, splitting through his neck as the swollen sack of his stomach swung wildly from his now exposed oesophagus; intestines writhed like snakes upon the floor.

As the flesh split through the stubble that covered his chin, Frank moved his hands again and sank those talons through his jowls and grasped his mandible in a vice like grip. With one almighty wrench, and a crack that echoed around the room like a gunshot, he snapped his jawbone in two.

His face drooped, hanging loose as his lower jaw swung uselessly. His tongue an over-large slab of meat that flapped almost comically with every slight shift of his body. Without missing a beat, what was left of Frank sank those needle-sharp talons into the roof of his mouth, and I knew exactly what move was coming next.

It was only at that point that I felt my stomach turn and a sickness rise in my throat. I'd known the process wasn't going to be pretty, the sight of a Whisperer demon in the flesh was generally horrifying enough, but I hadn't anticipated it being so brutal. Humans never survived a demonic release, and now I knew why, by the time the Whisperer was done, Frank would be no more than an indistinguishable pile of flesh and blood on the floor.

Another crack rang out, cutting through the screams and cries of horror, as Frank's skull shattered and split open like an egg; spilling its contents out to join the gore on the tiles. The swirling demonic shadow encased inside of that fleshy shell unfolded itself and stretched taller and taller until it towered well above all of our heads. It peeled away the remains of Frank's body like a banana shedding its own skin – grotesque and yet almost comical in the most dark and twisted manner – and, finally free of its human confines, the shadows began to coalesce and take shape.

The empty shell of flesh flopped to the floor with a sickening splat, spraying blood into the air. I felt some of the cooling liquid spatter onto my cheek, I wiped it away – probably smearing it more than I cleaned it – and looked down at the floor, realising properly for the first time that the blood puddle had seeped close enough to pool around the soles of my boots. I felt as if a fist had clenched tight in my chest as I stood in the pool of blood, the stench of death thick in my nostrils. The war raging between the two halves of myself had come to a head, each side fighting for dominance, the fight for flight response at total odds with itself and it left me unable to breathe, frozen to the spot and wondering what the hell I should do now.

The screams in the room had pitched to a deafening volume, and the way they rang in my ears added to my confusion and the struggle I was feeling. The demon in me was hungry. The smell of death in my nostrils and the feel of blood on my skin gave her just a taste of what might come if I just forgot about the rules and threw caution to the wind for once. She admired Frank in that moment for his freedom, the ability he would have to do whatever the hell he wanted, I wanted to be that free, to have those choices and to not give a fuck what the consequences might be. I'd tasted blood when I killed Maura, and a part of me wanted more.

But the human side of me, ever a voice to the contrary, felt sickened, horrified, a feeling that was only heightened by the screams from every other human in the room, as if their terror were somehow infectious. Besides myself, only Jesse stood silent in the shadow of the demon, though his green pallor spoke volumes. I took a quick glance around the room, to put faces to the voices of sheer horror that practically deafened me; though I couldn't really pick any of them out of the mass. They crowded around the edges of the large square room, clutching at locked door handles, guards having lost any sense to reach for their keys and lead the people to freedom. The demon and I stood in the centre of our circle of horror, right where we belonged apart from the rest of the world and a vision to be feared. Even Jesse had backed away to stand on the outside; as much as he knew about 'our world' he would never be a part of it, and looking down upon the picture of mutilation and death, the human in me had decided she didn't want to be a part of it either. But it was with a heavy heart and a stark dose of realism that my demon side reminded me I would never be warmly welcomed into that circle. Nor would I ever find contentment while I was there – at least not while she had any say in the matter.

I craned my neck back up to look over Frank's new form – no, it wasn't Frank any more, Frank was the mess that had spilled out across the floor, I actually had no idea 'who' now stood in front of me. The shadows had solidified into black limbs covered in skin that glistened, wet like tar. His legs were permanently bent at the knees, twisting his figure into a perpetual hunch. It caused an awkward gait when they tried to walk, but Whisperers used their shadow trick for more than just show. In their billowing form they could travel for miles and very quickly just so long as there were hints and splashes of shadow for them to travel through. A moment too long under direct light they are forced to take form, but these days there are few places where no shadows exist at all, and the only time a Whisperer would ever choose to take form was when it was going for the kill.

My eyes traced the curve of it's spine, each vertebrae a sharp point of charcoal grey bone tat protruded through his thick skin creating a trail of spines. He was so thin and emaciated, every bone was visible, but the power that radiated from his horrifying form couldn't deny the strength that I knew he possessed in even his long talon-like fingers.

“Thank you.” An alien voice rumbled from the dark void that was the demon's mouth as it looked down on me. I had no words to reply, my throat was tight and dry, but I managed a stiff nod, what the hell had I done? The demon's face twisted in what I could only describe as some hideous vision of a smile, exposing a double row of slim conical teeth – too many to count, pale grey and needle sharp.

The words had thrown a silence over the room, as if everybody within it held their collective breath wondering what this creature was, and more importantly what it was going to do. It didn't take very long for that question to be answered, the demon turned it's head to the side and caught sight of the nearest guard. Two shambling steps and he was close enough to reach out and touch him with his over long limbs. In one fluid motion it swept a long, bony arm through the air and plunged those sharp talons into the nearest guards throat. He snapped the man's spine and tore his hand back out, clutching a fistful of the man's windpipe. The owners body crumpled to the floor, sending up a spray of blood, and that's when all hell broke loose.