Wild Things (Chicagoland Vampires #9)(12)
Author: Chloe Neill

The sight didn’t help my dizziness, and I sat firmly on the ground again. I looked up to find Ethan standing over her, hands and dagger bloodied, eyes green and fierce. There were streaks of blood and scratches across his face, and worse across his shirt.

He crouched in front of me, looked over my face. “You’re all right, Sentinel?”

I blinked. “I’ll be fine. She got my cheek.”

“The bruise is already showing,” he said, offering a hand and helping me to my feet. “You’ll heal.”

“That’s what they say. But it doesn’t make the punch feel any better.”

A voice rose behind us. “Little help here!”

We glanced across the meadow, found Catcher and Mallory twenty feet away, lobbing blue orbs of light at a pair of harpies who easily avoided them, swiping at their heads as they bobbed overhead. The sorcerers looked tired; their font of magic wasn’t endless, but required recharging. They both looked wan and sweaty, like they’d need the recharging soon.

“I’ll help,” Ethan said. “Stay here until you’re balanced again.”

I’d have argued if I could have, but he was already on his way to Mallory and Catcher.

Before I could join him, a wolf was beside me, nudging my leg. I glanced down. It was Gabriel, his wolf form enormous, his haunches nearly reaching my waist. And although he was undeniably animal—from thick fur to the tang of musk—there was something very human in his eyes.

Fear.

He nudged my hand again. Odd, because it wasn’t like Gabriel to turn his back on a fight. And why would he be afraid?

The thought struck me with cold dread. Tanya, also a wolf, could have shifted. But Connor was only an infant; I wasn’t entirely sure if infants could shift. And in any case, she’d have to carry him away.

“Tanya and Connor,” I said, and he yipped in agreement.

We ducked to avoid the tips of claws and wings.

“I’ll get them out of here and into the woods,” I promised. “Keep Ethan out of trouble.”

I’m going to find Tanya and Connor, I warned Ethan, who’d already reached Mallory and Catcher and was joining his dagger to their efforts. Please keep yourself safe.

I . . . intend . . . to, he haltingly responded, between his own evasive maneuvers.

I ducked and ran to the highest point in the meadow, a spot near the tree line on what I guessed was the southern side of the field, in order to scan the battlefield. Most of the shifters had actually shifted, but there were still some who I guessed found it easier to fight this particular enemy in human form. Tents were crumpled to the ground and fluttering wings obscured the view. If I was going to find them, I was going to have to run for it.

It was like an obstacle course, but instead of paintballs, giant naked women dropped from the sky with daggerlike claws. That wasn’t nearly as romantic as it sounded. I darted from one tent to the next, looking for any sign of the queen of the Pack and the heir to the throne. But I found nothing.

I made it to a tree stump, dropped beside it as I scanned the part of the field closest to me. I saw nothing but fighting, harpies apparently intent on wiping out the Pack in one fell swoop. And I’d traversed only a third of the meadow.

“This isn’t working,” I murmured, cupping my hands around my mouth and screaming into the night, “Tanya!”

I strained to hear a response but heard only the yips of injured shifters and the squeals of pissed-off harpies.

“Tanya!” I tried again. And this time, I heard an answering call.

“Merit!”

The cry was too low to be close, but it was enough to signal her direction. I ran to the next obstacle, then the next, and finally found her crouched on the ground beside the totem, which now lay on its side in the middle of the clearing, sheltering her son with her body.

There was no fear in the magic that swirled around her, just a sense of determination. She was a mother, and she would protect her son, regardless the cost.

I ran toward her, put the dagger back in my boot, and extended a hand. “Long time no see.”

She smiled just a little. “I don’t think this is quite the party Gabriel had in mind.”

“I would hope not,” I said, “or he’s a horrible planner. Are you okay?”

“I think I twisted my ankle. Tripped over something in the field.”

I nodded. “I’ll help you get to the woods. The harpies can’t fly through the trees.”

Tanya nestled Connor in the crook of one arm, nodded, and grabbed my hand with her free one to pull herself upright. She bobbled a bit on her left foot but stayed upright.

My arm around her back, I scanned the sky, gauged the distance between the shelter and the trees, and prepared to run. If I could just wait for them to begin the rotation away from the woods, we’d have a few seconds to make a run for it.

A metallic screech rang out above us. We crouched as a harpy flew only a foot above our heads, sending Connor into a fit of tears.

“Ready,” I told her, trying to drown out the noise and the fire and the scent of blood and the snow of molted black feathers that fell from the sky.

The harpy banked and turned and gave us our chance.

“Run!” I yelled, and we took off at our stumbling pace.

She made it ten awkward yards before stumbling forward, nearly pulling me down with her. But I managed to stay on my feet and keep an iron grip on her waist. I kept her upright and she found her balance again, but her ankle wobbled beneath her. Shifting into her wolf form would allow her to heal, but we didn’t have time for that.

The piercing scream rose behind us, and I risked a glance over our shoulders. The harpy had seen us, and she’d turned our way.

Tanya tried to release my grip. “Take Connor. Run for the woods. Keep him safe.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up. “Are you kidding me? I’m not going to leave you here for the world’s angriest chickens. We do this together.” I pulled her free arm around my shoulder and put my arm back around her waist, tilting my body to take more of the weight off her ankle. Together, the sound of thwushing wings behind us growing louder with each step we took, we hobbled to the tree line.

The hair rose on the back of my neck. Gods, but this is going to be close.

“Faster!” I said, sucking in oxygen as we raced the last twenty yards, then ten, pulling her toward the trees with all the strength I could muster.

The harpy dipped, and time seemed to slow. Visions passed before my eyes, of friendships, of my nieces and nephews, of Ethan, and of the green-eyed child Gabriel had once hinted was in my future. Green eyes I wouldn’t get a chance to see if we didn’t make it.