by Ann Charles
I heard something racing through the snow toward me and swiped at my eyes, trying to clear them. The beast’s breath caught as it pushed off the ground, springing toward me. Through a blur of tears, I saw it coming for my throat. “Shit!” I raised my arm to block it.
A bar swung down fast and hard from my right, nailing the creature in the middle of the back.
I heard the crunch of its spine and lowered my arm. It twitched at my boots.
“That was close,” I said.
“Too close.” Panting, Doc wiped sweat from his temple. He double-gripped the steering shaft, swinging it down again, putting the beast out of its misery. It didn’t explode like those I’d killed, merely lay there bleeding out.
“You have two more behind you,” he said in between gulps of breath, and turned to face off with another predator rounding the back of the Plymouth.
I spun and faced my hunters, planting my feet. I played Frisbee with the steering wheel, sending it flying through the air. It nailed one in the snout, knocking it to the side. The second chimera caught my crowbar upside the cheek as I hit it with a two-handed, solid whack. The bar shuddered in my hands. The bastard rolled like a tumbleweed, slamming into the Plymouth, and was impaled on the rusted grill.
A gunshot sounded. The bullet whizzed past me.
What the hell? I thought Doc was out.
The bullet hit something solid behind me. I turned to see a dark gray predator stumble as it charged me. I had time to veer right at the last second, striking with a crowbar uppercut. The chimera flipped backward into the snow. While it struggled to roll back onto its feet, I spun the bar around and stabbed it through its side.
Poof!
Before the ash cleared, another lunged at me. I sidestepped and my boots slid out from under me yet again. The chimera winged me as I fell, its claws slashing through my coat.
I pushed to my feet, my breath hitching in my chest, my mouth gritty from the ash in the air. A growl behind me made me cringe.
Another shot rang out to the left. I looked over my shoulder in time to see the bullet slam into a predator with a gray and white snout. I swerved, escaping its sharp teeth and claws.
A loud rumble thundered from over by the woodshed, but I didn’t dare turn because not thirty yards away, the hulking bastard with the white mane was charging straight at me through the smattering of trees to the north. To the left, I saw another beast kicking up snow as it raced toward me, its teeth bared and ready for battle.
Hell’s bells! Two at once. I took several steps backward. My arms ached, my shoulder burned, my lungs needed more oxygen. I tried to take off running toward Doc, who was swinging at the gray and white snouted beast, but my boots lost traction again. I fell onto my hands and knees. When I looked up, the two predators had joined each other, coming for me in tandem.
With seconds to spare, I scrambled upright, crowbar raised.
They sprang at me in unison.
A horn blasted.
The front of Harvey’s pickup filled my vision. The burly steel grill rammed both beasts, sending them flying toward the trees.
Harvey yanked the wheel and slammed on the brakes. The pickup skidded in an arc, facing the way it’d come when it finally stopped with the driver’s side closest to me.
“Violet!” Doc raced through the snow, the chimera with the gray and white snout scrambling to its feet behind him. “Get in!” He grabbed me by the arm and sprinted toward the pickup, half-carrying me when I skidded and stumbled behind him.
“Move your asses!” Cooper stood in the bed of the truck with his Colt .45 firing behind us as we dashed through the snow.
Harvey rolled his window down as we drew near. Bessie’s double barrels pointed straight at us. “Get down!” he shouted.
Doc pulled me to the ground.
Boom!
Bessie’s sweet song made my ears ring again.
A black furry body slammed into the front quarter panel of the pickup. I looked over. It was the relentless sucker with the gray and white snout.
I stood, raised the crowbar, and jammed the wedged end through its chest. Ash billowed in the air.
Harvey coughed and cursed, rolling up his window.
“Let’s go!” Doc tugged on my arm, dragging me around the open back door. He shoved me inside the cab and crowded in after me.
“Go! Go! Go!” Cooper yelled, climbing into the passenger side.
Harvey hit the gas, the tires spinning in the snow as Cooper hauled his door closed.
Something thumped against my door. The back of the pickup bounced as the tire rolled over what I guessed to be another beast.
I sat up, holding onto the seat in front of me as we fishtailed around the woodshed, which now had a collapsed corner. Broken boards were scattered in the snow. Harvey skidded sideways when he hit Slagton’s main drag, steering his way out of the slide before hitting the gas again.
Looking back, I watched through the dirty window as several of the chimeras ran out onto the road, giving chase. I counted five.
My heart pounded as they gained ground. But suddenly the chase ended, the five turning back toward the woodshed, where a creature twice the size of the others strolled out into the road and stared after us. A ray of sunlight hit the back window, glaring through the dirt and dust, cutting visibility in half.
“What in the fuck is that?” Cooper asked.
“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s their alpha,” Doc said.
Harvey didn’t slow to see what we were talking about. He sped past the informant’s shack and barreled out of town, not taking his foot off the gas until Cooper touched his shoulder. “We’re clear. You can let off the gas some.”
“Christ,” Doc said, leaning his head back against the headrest. He clutched his side, grimacing. His cheek and coat were splattered with black specks and smudges. The knuckles on his right hand looked raw, red with his own blood. “They just kept coming at us.”
“You called it from the get-go, Oracle,” I said. He’d mentioned things didn’t seem right when we started toward that Plymouth. Next time he told me that, I was running home and hiding under my bed.
I frowned down at my pea coat. It was so covered with ash and black blood that I couldn’t even tell it was red anymore. My left shoulder stung where that one bastard had caught me with its claws.
Doc looked at me. “Are you okay, Killer?”
“I’m still breathing.”
Sitting up, he touched the tear in my coat. “What happened here?”
“I slipped.” I inspected the shredded material. There’d be no patching it up.
“Let’s get this off of you,” he said, unbuttoning my coat. He helped extract my arm from the sleeve, his touch gentle as he assessed the sliced skin under the torn sweatshirt.
“Well?” I asked. “Will I live?”
“Yeah, but it’s going to be tender for a while.” He glanced up at me. “You might need stitches.”
I wasn’t going to the hospital. “I’ll be fine.” I pulled my sweatshirt aside to see the scratches for myself. “A few Band-Aids and I’ll heal in no time.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell you what you need after I clean it up.”
“Are we going to play doctor?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood for my own sanity’s sake after slaying Lord knew how many of those creatures.
“Maybe.” Doc grinned. “Or we could go back to my place and study some anatomy.”
“Only if you promise to skyrocket my dopamine levels.”
Harvey snorted. “Is that an epi-pen in yer pants, Doc? Or are ya just happy to see Sparky still alive and kickin’?”
Chuckling, I looked toward the front seat and slammed into Cooper’s scowl. I sobered. “What now, Cooper? Are you going to give me a debriefing on what I did wrong back there?”
Another snicker came from Harvey’s corner of the cab. “Yer debriefing is a job for Doc, not Coop.”
I leaned forward and flicked the old boy’s ear, making h
im laugh.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Parker,” Cooper said, his focus moving to my bloody shoulder. “I almost got you three killed today.”
“It’s not like that,” Doc said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was.” His scowl moved to Doc. “I should have known better than to take the bait.”
“Who would’ve guessed they were capable of setting a trap?”
Cooper shook his head. “I left Parker standing there beside that Plymouth.” His scowl deepened. “I left her with one lousy crowbar to fight off all of those fuckers.”
“No, Coop. You left an Executioner while you went to get something to help us escape,” Doc said. “Violet comes from a long line of fighters, remember? Besides, she wasn’t alone.”
“Are ya forgettin’ what Sparky can do with a plain ol’ crowbar, boy? How many of them critters did you turn to dust today, girl?”
“I don’t know, maybe five or so.” I’d lost count while trying to stay alive. The haunted look on Cooper’s face tugged at me. “Hey, you got us out of there alive. Harvey wouldn’t have made it to the pickup without your help.”
“Darn tootin’,” his uncle added. “That one snaggletooth woulda torn out my throat if you hadn’t filled its brain bucket with holes first.”
“This is all so screwed up.” Cooper scrubbed his hand down his face. “Parker has kids. If anything had happened to her …”
“It’s a different world now, Coop,” Doc said. “A whole new game with no instructions.”
“We’re a long way from ordinary these days,” Harvey added.
“Cooper,” I said, grabbing the back of his seat. “Look at me.”
He turned and focused on me, too many days of long hours showing on his face. “What?”
“Knock this guilt shit off. You’ve been working twelve-hour shifts night after night. Your instincts were snoozing when that call came in. How were you to know it wasn’t legitimate? That the caller didn’t have information about your missing informant?”
“Parker,” he started, but I held up my hand.
“I’m not done. As for my children, our job is to rid the hills of deadly vermin so that Addy and Layne can live to see another day. And when I say ‘our,’ that means you, me, Doc, Harvey, and whoever else steps up when duty calls. So suck it up and go back to being the pain in the ass I’ve grown to respect and like … sort of … when you’re not being a dickhead to me.”
Harvey hooted. “Ya hear that, Doc? These two curly wolves are finally tuckin’ in their teeth. Did ya ever think ya’d see the day? Let’s go to town and shoot out the lights.”
After a nod at me, Cooper faced forward again. “You’ve done enough shooting with Bessie for one day, Uncle Willis.”
“Yer right. Next time, I’m bringing my new cannon.”
“What?” Cooper gaped at his uncle. “I told you not to order that.”
“And I told you I wanted a cannon.” Harvey eased onto the main road and then hit the gas.
Doc leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. “Somebody set us up. Someone who knows the truth about Violet.” He reached out and found my hand, lacing his fingers though mine.
Who would have set us up? I thought of the possible players who might make the lineup—Dominick? Prudence’s contact? Cooper’s informant? Someone else hiding back in Slagton?
“But why?” I asked. “To catch an Executioner?”
“Maybe,” Doc said.
Cooper rubbed his neck. “Looked more like the goal was to kill one, if you ask me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Home was where my heart was—or rather were, since I had twin hearts waiting there for me. However, I didn’t want my kids to see me fresh from battle. There’d be too many questions from Addy and several fibbed answers that Layne wouldn’t believe. So, we swung by Doc’s place first, dragging our sorry, stinky, wet, and dirty carcasses inside.
We took turns showering in Doc’s two bathrooms. I volunteered to go last, because my hair did not like to be rushed. Not to mention that I was in the worst shape by far, coated with multiple layers of ash, blood, saliva, and many other parts of dead creatures that I didn’t want to think about until I was scoured pink.
The guys were all quick, even Doc, who had to do some scrubbing himself after his batting practice with Slagton’s motley crew. Since everyone was done when my turn came, I opted to use Doc’s master bathroom. I wanted at least two doors between me and the outside world while I assessed the emotional stability of the wild woman with a blood- and grime-covered face staring back at me in the mirror.
“Executioner.” I spoke the name aloud, trying it on for size.
The role still fit like a boot that was too big—loose and clunky, rubbing me wrong, causing blisters in my tender spots.
“Scharfrichter,” I whispered, thinking of that yellow eye I’d seen through the knothole in the woodshed. Who’d spoken that? One of the chimeras? Maybe, but the hole was pretty high up on the wall. My gut told me it was the leader. The creature that had stood in the middle of the road as we drove away.
I leaned closer to the mirror, peering into my eyes. They looked the same as always. Did they change when I went into killing mode? Did my pupils narrow during that moment when I could suddenly see beyond my normal spectrum, sensing my enemies? Like Mr. Black’s?
I touched the tip of my nose, moving it around. Did my nose grow so that I could pick up scents I normally couldn’t? Caly’s face had grown a snout when she shifted into attack mode. Was I similar to her kind? Or was mine more internal, like a switch flicking in my brain—Executioner On/Executioner Off?
A knock sounded on the bathroom door.
“Hey, Tiger.” Doc’s voice came through the wood. “I have some clothes for you and a garbage bag for that sweatshirt.”
“Come in,” I said, turning away from the mirror.
Doc closed the door behind him. His cream-colored thermal made his hair and beard stubble look even darker than usual. I’d never really cared one way or another about guys having facial hair, but this new look of Doc’s had me staring extra long. Too bad my body ached too much to do anything about the X-rated ideas he spurred in my head. Did executing always take such a toll, or was I pathetically out of shape? Probably the latter.
He placed the yoga pants and T-shirt I kept at his place on the counter next to the sink. From his front jeans pocket, he pulled out the “lucky” pink underwear Harvey had packed with my Slagton clothes. “Turns out Willis was right, you could use these after all.” Doc lowered them on top of my other clothes.
“Don’t tell Harvey. He’ll start fishing in my underwear drawer for ‘lucky’ panties each week before playing poker with you guys.”
“Can’t say as I blame him.” Doc’s grin was flirty. “I like fishing in your drawers, too.”
I faked a groan at his pun.
“Come on,” he said. “That was a good one.”
“Good? That’s reaching.” I slipped my uninjured arm out of my sweatshirt. “I guess it could’ve been worse.”
“How’s that?”
“You could’ve waxed eloquent about the length of your fishing rod, ending with a limerick about your fondness for skinny-dipping in my fishing hole.”
He laughed. “You need to quit spending so much time with Willis.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” I tried to tug off my sweatshirt with heavy arms and a sore shoulder.
His hands stopped me. “Let me help.”
“Thanks.” I played rag doll as he carefully freed my other arm and pulled the sweatshirt over my head, stuffing it in the garbage bag he’d brought.
He grimaced at the sight of my shoulder. “We’ll come back to these wounds in a minute. Let’s get the rest of your wet clothes off.”
“It’s not that bad.” The claw marks stung, but they didn’t ache.
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t look too good.”
I unbuttoned my jeans, starting to push
them down and pausing to take a breath. “Maybe I can just shower in my pants.”
Doc stepped in again, easing my jeans down over my hips. Then he helped me up onto the counter. After he tugged off my boots and set them by the door, he peeled my jeans and cashmere leggings the rest of the way off. My socks came next, leaving me sitting in my unmentionables.
“Will you hand me that?” I pointed at the thick terry cloth towel hanging from the bar next to the shower.
“Why?”
“Because I want to cover up a little.”
“Are you cold?” He grabbed the towel.
“No. I’m shy.”
“Shy?” Creases appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Boots, I’ve seen your body from head to toe and I’m totally smitten, I assure you.”
“Yeah, but you’re fully dressed right now and I’m mostly naked.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “You want me to get naked, too?”
“Of course.” Doc naked was great eye candy, and I had one hell of a sweet tooth. “But I’ll get you dirty again.”
“I like getting dirty with you.” He handed me the towel. “However, we need to get you cleaned and patched up first.”
“My modesty thanks you.” I took the towel and draped it over my lap, like when I sat on the doctor’s examination table.
“Now,” he said, grabbing a washcloth from under the sink. “Let me take a better look at that shoulder.”
I didn’t feel like fighting him, so I sat quietly like a good patient as he ran the washcloth under warm water and began cleaning off the mostly dried blood.
“Does this hurt,” he asked as he dabbed at the claw wounds.
“It stings, but not too much.” I closed my eyes, letting him work his magic unsupervised. The intoxicating scent of his cologne filled me, making me want to burrow into his chest, wrap his arms around me, and hide away from the world for a week … or ten.
“It’s looking better already,” he said.