He racked a round as he ran back to the imp. Her words—no, not her words, the calmness of her tone—rang in his head louder than the gunshots as he emptied half the magazine into the motionless thing.
The silence afterward hung thick with shadows and secrets, and the embedded horseshoe stuck up from the imp’s eyeball like the curve of a question mark.
“Close enough for horseshoes and hand grenades,” he muttered. “Sure wish I had the grenade.”
Wolly hobbled over to shove his nose under Josh’s hand.
Josh smoothed the still-bristling ruff. “You okay, boy?” He did a gentle pat down. No blood, but the dog turned his head away stoically when Josh touched his shoulder. Hopefully just a bruise, but something to watch. Whatever that thing was...
An imp, Adelyn had said. She’d been surprised at its appearance, but not shocked. She knew what it was. And she knew how to kill it.
So who—or what—was she?
Chapter 7
Adelyn threw on the clothing Josh had put aside for her and joined him outside. The night chill bit sharp as any imp’s claws. Still not as sharp as the glance Josh shot her when she clomped across the yard in an extra pair of his too-big boots.
She couldn’t meet his gaze and focused instead on the dog sniffing suspiciously at the still-smoldering imp. “Is Wolly all right?”
“Just sore, I think.”
“He was brave to charge like that, braver than most humans...” She tried to swallow back the word. Most people refused to believe the phae right before their eyes.
But she knew Josh wasn’t most people.
Sure enough, he turned to face her. “What the fuck is an imp?”
She dragged her gaze up to his. “What do you see?”
“What do you mean, what do I see? A fucking monster with a horseshoe burned through its eyeball. Its one fucking eyeball.”
“Josh—”