Clean Sweep(35)

We started back toward the house.

"That's a long way from a walking corpse," Sean said.

"Myths tend to spiral out of control. Do you howl at the full moon and steal maidens to devour?"

"Depends on the maiden," he said.

Was he flirting with me? Devouring didn't really go with flirting, but his tone of voice did. Was this how werewolves flirted? Hey, baby, if I had to kill any girl and eat her flesh, it would be you...

"They look human." Sean shook his head.

"They're similar to us. Our species are compatible. There have been vampire-human hybrids."

He turned and looked at me.

"There are werewolf-human hybrids." I shrugged. "The basic set of genes is the same..."

A howl of pain cut through the night. It came from the north.

Sean spun toward the sound. He blurred and suddenly a monster rose in his place. Tall, muscular with enormous shoulders, he was covered with dense, dark gray fur. His big, squarish head, more wolf than human and equipped with colossal jaws, rested on a thick muscular neck. His hands, armed with two-inch-long claws, could enclose my head. He was huge. The werewolves from my memories would be like kids next to him.

Fear gripped me, born of pure instinct. My knees shook.

He snarled, his eyes bright amber. A deep voice came forth. "Stay here."

"Sean!"

"Stay here!"

He dashed across the lawn, impossibly fast, clearing the hedge in a single leap.

*** *** ***

Everything in me screamed to go after him. But with violence so close, I had the inn to protect.

I held very still, trying to listen to the night noises. Gloom drowned the subdivision streets.

Come on, Sean. Don't get hurt and get out of there. Someone will call the cops.

If they arrested him, I'd totally bail him out.

A faint scrape came from the right. I turned, scanning the house across the street. It sat with its side to me, facing Camelot Road. I peered at the darkness under its bushes, searching for any hint of movement.

Nothing.

Something watched me from the darkness. I couldn't see it, but it was there. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The gaze pressed on me, like a razor blade slowly cutting into my nerves.

The broom flowed in my hand, forming two long, swordlike blades, one on the top and one on the bottom.

Show yourself.

Nothing.

At least Beast was locked inside. The last thing I needed was her getting hurt.

Somewhere in the darkness muscles tensed and ligaments stretched as something prepared for a leap. I could almost feel it.

"Don't fire," I whispered. The inn creaked in acknowledgment. The less noise, the better.

In the depths of the subdivision a dog barked.

The darkness stared back at me with invisible evil eyes. My knees shook. Every muscle clenched inside me. This wasn't my first hand-to-hand fight, but except for the stalker, I had never stood against this kind of attack alone. My parents or my siblings had always been with me.

Now wasn't the time to freak out. Whatever I did would work. It had to work. That's why we practiced.

Show yourself.

A stalker shot out of the gloom under the bushes and sprinted across the road so fast it was a blur, then leaped over the hedge. All thoughts dashed out of my head in a terrified stampede. I spun my broom, turning into it, just like in practice.

The stalker flew through the air, hurtling toward me.

The first blade sliced the stalker's chest. His leap carried him forward. My second blade cut across its flank. The stalker crashed to the ground. The inn's roots shot out of the lawn. The long woody tendrils grasped the stalker, holding it still for a second. I spun my spear and sliced its head off. White liquid bubbled from the wound.

A second stalker burst from the left, clearing the hedge. I twisted and cut across its stomach as it was in mid-leap. Pale blood flew and splashed onto the trunk of the nearest oak. The stalker fell to the ground, snarled in an unearthly voice, and charged me. I lunged and drove the blade into its chest. The metal cut through flesh like a knife through a ripe fruit. The stalker gurgled, impaled on my spear but still trying to claw at me.

A third beast charged toward the inn, galloping down the road. I had to get rid of the second one before I could take the third one on.

I shot a pulse of magic down the broom. The blade of the broom split into a dozen spikes. The spike tips burst through the stalker's chest and out of its back, their razor-sharp tips glowing with faint blue.

The stalker gasped and went limp.

I yanked the broom out of its body, retracting the spikes.

The third stalker was almost to me.

A muscular furry body leapt into the road, blocking the stalker's path. Sean. An armored figure hung over his shoulder, slung fireman style.

The stalker charged.

The werewolf swept the creature off its feet and jerked it up, one enormous clawed hand constricting the beast's throat. Sean shook the hundred-pound beast once, a violent sharp motion like cracking a whip. Something snapped. The stalker hung limp. Its head lolled to the side.