Chapter 360 Weird!

• He stretched out his hands. His index fingers were slim, almost feminine. The skin was a sickly white, the kind you see on a corpse. Suddenly, his ten fingers curled, turning into claws. The nails that had been coiled up snapped straight all at once—like knives freshly honed. Those hands were scarier than a real eagle’s talons.
• Henrik Jansson’s eyes changed. He stepped back fast, dodging the strike. The Butcher didn’t let up. His ten fingers crossed and weaved, like he was spinning a net of blades, sweeping down over Henrik Jansson.
• Henrik Jansson slipped aside again. The claw raked the wall instead. The concrete split under his nails, ten deep grooves scarring the surface.