Kanaf cloak

Something moved out in the shadow, a patch that was blacker than normal black.
“Here kitty, kitty,” the psycho called. He sounded far away, his voice from another direction than the twist she’d spotted in the darkness. “Here pussy. Such a bad girl. Wish you thought we were handsome. Maybe you’ll grow to like our face once we carve you to match.”
Naomi settled into a crouch. Trying to scare me, she realized. Wants to flush me out, and he’s getting frustrated. Just keep your head. His voice made that hard, but when she glanced back at the weird knot of shadows, something else stole her breath.
Something else—that was all she could make of it, because it looked like nothing more than a distortion in the darkness that blew like smoke from behind a column, flitted across the floor, and merged into another column. Her heart thumped against the inside of her ribcage at what she’d seen: at something more fluid than form. Dread squeezed the air from her lungs and erased every rational explanation from her mind—for that instant, there was something wicked staring at her from the blackness; something had crawled from Hell and watched her with an ancient patience.
It terrified her in ways the psychopath could not. She sensed they weren’t together, because the Hellish thing crept toward the madman’s singsong voice—liquid shadows peeled from the column and appeared for an instant as the silhouette of a person, bounding to the rear of a truck and joining the shapeless ceiling. So quick it might have flown. So purposefully toward the stitch-faced man, she realized it wasn’t hunting her. She was merely in its way.
No. She’d lost track of it, and with it gone from her sight, she closed her eyes and likewise forced it from her mind. It’s not real. Just the fear playing tricks. Focus on getting out of here.

Chapter 6, Page 74-75


She flowed along the ceiling like wet ink, her hoodie and cargo pants dissolved into the formless black wings of her kanaf, bleeding her shape and color into the negative spaces around her. Every nerve buzzed, a sensitive conductor. The asura passed beneath her and Ryn’s pulse quickened with voyeuristic pleasure. She could have reached out to flick open his carotid, yet she remained unseen. The waiting almost felt better than the bloodletting, savoring the moment before full, kinetic contact, her visceral urges piqued but teasingly denied for just a few heartbeats longer.
Naomi cut short Ryn’s stalking when she sprinted for the corner staircase. Splat whirled to follow her.
I could let him catch her. I won’t let him hurt her, but then I could stalk him more. No, she decided. Naomi was her territory now, and she didn’t share.
Splat passed beneath her again. Ryn tore from her shrouded place on the ceiling and snarled her hunger at the asura. “Mine.” The word came in the midst of her growl and she didn’t know why she said it. He spun in time to see teeth and shadow, no more.

Chapter 6, Page 76-77