On the Hunt

Neal didn't like the idea of one of those bloodsuckers anywhere near her. Her neck was far too pretty, her blood far too precious. "No. I'll find out myself, even if I have to strip-search her."

"Helen and I can come. Where are you?"

Neal didn't answer. If Drake came, he might bring some of the other men—men who might be compatible with Viviana. Neal didn't want to take that risk. He'd already gotten off on the wrong foot with her. If she was one of their own, the last thing he needed was competition. He'd found her, and as barbaric as it might be, that meant she was his. At least for now.

"I've got it covered," he told Drake. "I'll check in later."

Neal hung up, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow dart down the alley beside Viviana's home. It could have been a large dog looking for scraps in the garbage, but the hair standing up on the back of his neck told him that was wishful thinking.

He didn't bother knocking on the door, doubting she'd answer. Instead he ran through the alley to the back of her house and dialed the number he'd called to set up the appointment. He hoped it was her cell phone and not some office line.

It rang once before he heard her frightened voice. "Mr. Etan? Please tell me that's your dog in my house."

Relief at the sound of her voice was quickly washed away by the implications of what she'd said. "Dog? What did it look like?"

"Big. Furry. Black claws. Glowing green eyes."

That was no dog. It was a sgath. A Synestryn demon.

Neal's limbs iced over. If that thing so much as scratched her, she'd be poisoned, and that was the best-case scenario of what could happen if he didn't get in there and stop it.

"I'm coming. Where are you?" he demanded.

"Upstairs. Third floor. It's in the hall. I closed the door, but I don't know how long that will keep it out."

Not long.

Neal reached the back door of her home. It was hanging wide-open. The doorknob lay on the back step, crumpled and torn from its mooring. Paw prints were easily visible in the snow. More than one set.

One sgath had already found her. He didn't stop to study the tracks to find out how many more were inside. He'd find a way to deal with as many as it took to get her out safe.

He drew his sword. It became visible as it left the sheath mounted to his belt.

He heard a heavy thud from upstairs, followed by a frightened shriek coming through the phone.

Neal sprinted for the stairs. "Hang on, sweetheart. I'm coming."

The heavy wooden door shuddered against another attack by the giant dog.

Viviana yelped and clutched her cell phone in one hand, her candlestick in the other. There were no weapons in here—only a store of books and trinkets so old they'd crumble if she held them too hard.

Mr. Etan had said he was coming, but she had no way of knowing how long that might take. By the way the door was rattling, she guessed it wasn't going to be fast enough.

She wriggled between the side of a low bookshelf and the corner of the room and shoved hard, hoping to use the shelf as a barricade to keep the door shut. The shelf was laden with books and seriously heavy, but it scooted a couple of inches.

The dog slammed into the door again, only this time one of its claws punctured the wood, shooting shards of splinters into the room.

Viviana clamped her lips shut over a scream of fear and pushed harder. She still had five feet to cover before the shelf was going to do anything to impede the dog's progress.

If it was a dog. She was beginning to wonder if it wasn't something . . . else.

Her books were full of images of horrible, writhing beasts and monsters so terrifying there was no way they were real. And whatever was outside her door was definitely real.

She pushed that train of thought from her mind. If she survived this, she'd dedicate as many hours to the question as necessary, but for now, she had to focus on staying alive until help arrived.

The shelf moved another few inches, giving her enough room to use her legs to better advantage.

Another loud, hammering blow to the door sent more wood flying into the room. This time, the opening was big enough for an entire paw to reach through, searching blindly for her.

That was most definitely not a dog. Its claws were way too long, its paw too wide, and its arm was at least as long as her own, thick as a man's leg. Maybe it was a bear or some kind of large, black jungle cat escaped from the zoo.

Whatever it was, it was closer to those terrible images in her books than to anything that belonged on a leash.

The thing let out a vicious snarl, lashing the air with its searching paw. A second later, it yelped in pain and two feet of severed, furry leg dropped through the opening onto her floor. Black blood oozed from the severed end, somehow burning the floor, sending plumes of thick, oily smoke up into the air.

Viviana froze in terror, unable to make sense of what she saw.

The door flew open, batting the furry limb across the floor toward her. She shrieked and jerked away, only to find she was trapped in the corner, unable to move any farther. Her elbow jabbed the wall behind her, sending zings of sensation out to her fingertips.

"Viviana?" came Mr. Etan's deep, worried voice a second before his head appeared around the doorframe.

She didn't answer him. She couldn't. Her mouth was too dry, her throat too constricted for any words to pass.

In one hand he held a sword covered in the same oily black fluid that was burning her floor. The other hand—the one with the ring she'd noticed earlier—was held out to her.

He took a step toward her. "We have to go. There are more sgath in your house."

Viviana looked at his wide hand, then down at the paw of the thing he'd called a sgath. He'd killed it. With a sword. How was any of this even possible?

His voice was confident, steady. He showed no signs that anything that had happened seemed odd to him. "Sweetheart, I know you're scared. I know all of this is a lot to take in, but now is not the time for hesitation. We need to go."

Go. Before the other sgath in her house found them.

She gave herself a hard mental shake, then reached for his hand. She didn't know this man, but she knew he'd killed to save her. For now, that was going to have to be enough.

Her thin cotton gloves were damp with sweat, but she didn't dare take them off. She remembered how odd she'd felt when they'd touched before, and she really couldn't stand any more bizarre stimuli tonight.

The heat of his skin sank through the glove, and along with it came that odd resonance she'd felt before, only this time it was muted. Even so, it was still enough to make her suck in a startled breath. A shiver wriggled up her back, allowing some of the too-tight muscles there to loosen.

He gave her a tug. "Come on. We need to hurry."

She didn't know where they were going, but for now, she was happy to be leaving behind all this strangeness. Once she was away from here, she'd figure things out and make some sense out of it all. For now, leaving sounded like a fantastic idea.

She stepped over the severed paw, and now that she was able to see through the doorway, she saw the remains of the sgath. It was in four pieces, and each one of them was leaking black blood, sending thin tendrils of smoke up from her floor. The head lay against the banister, its sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling. At least they were no longer glowing.

Mr. Etan helped her step over the biggest part of the carcass. She clutched his arm tight, feeling the dense, thick muscles beneath his leather jacket. She'd never been more thankful for a brute than she was in this moment. He may have been misplaced in time, but none of the men she'd dated would have stood a chance against the thing he'd just killed. Maybe all those muscles were for more than just vanity's sake.

"Thank you," she whispered, finally finding enough of her voice to speak.

"Sure thing, sweetheart, but we're not out of the woods yet. Stay close."

The way he was holding her arm in a death grip, she didn't think any other option was possible.

From the stairwell somewhere below them came a caustic, angry growl.

Mr. Etan stopped. "It's caught our scent. Is there any other way out?"

"Fire escape down to the alley."

A blur of movement caught her eye, but by the time she'd turned her head to see what it was, Mr. Etan was already in motion. He pushed her behind him, letting out an agonized hiss. It looked like he was fighting the need to double over in pain, but in the end, he stood straight and tall, his blade ready for the sgath that leaped up the stairs, gouging deep grooves into the wood. It didn't even bother to use the treads—just bounded between one railing and the other, hopping up each flight of stairs in two giant leaps.

It lunged at Mr. Etan, but he stepped aside at the last second, pushing her along with him. It bounced against the wall next to her head, ripping the plaster from the wall with its teeth.

Mr. Etan ducked low and spun so fast his blade was a flashing arc of silver. One of the thing's legs flew away from its body, streaming oily blood as it went. A drop of it landed on her suit jacket and began to sizzle.

Mr. Etan shoved her back with one big hand, forcing her to stumble away from the sgath. "Get out," he ordered.

Viviana regained her balance and jerked the jacket off her body before that blood could touch her skin. By the time she had, Mr. Etan had landed another solid blow to the sgath's side.

It roared in pain and its green eyes flared bright. For a moment she was frozen in place, struck by the oddity that the green color reminded her of all those Mr. Yuck stickers her mother had placed on the chemicals in their home when Viviana was in elementary school.

"Go!" he shouted. "Now."

She gave herself a hard shake to rid herself of the need to stare at that eerie light and turned to run. She'd made it only two steps toward the fire escape when another one of those sgath creatures lifted its head and peered into the window.

The sgath snorted out a heavy breath, making the glass fog up. Before that misty spot had completely cleared, the monster lunged for her, shattering the window.