“Travis.” Zev’s soft voice reached him through the roaring in his ears. “Thank you. You killed it. We need to go back and help Jubal. If you need a minute, you can join the others in the safe room and let them know we’re almost done here. Jubal and I will clean up.”
Zev’s voice was that same calm, steady miracle of complete confidence. But he was moving up the stairs fast, a graceful, fluid exit, but an exit all the same. Travis was well aware the elite hunter was making certain Jubal was still alive and had killed the last of the hellhounds. He didn’t want to be left alone in the same room with the macabre two-headed beast, even though it appeared dead. He wasn’t about to open the safe room door until he was absolutely certain it was safe to do so. He ran after Zev.
Zev hated to leave the boy after he’d shown so much bravery, and was happy to hear his footsteps as Travis raced after him, but his mind was already on the fiends from hell trying to get to the children. There had been five of them. He’d killed the leader. The two-headed monster was dead. The two hounds that collided together had been slain as well. That left one. They’d been lucky. Jubal had good aim, and so had Paul and Travis. The oil had come in handy. Without it, the beasts would come at them again and again, in spite of the arrows. There was no other real way to kill the hellhound without the oil. It acted like poison to them.
Zev burst out onto the porch, ready for anything—other than the scene in front of him. Paul and Jubal sat on the ground a few inches from a dead hellhound, both laughing almost hysterically. They looked up as he approached. The hound and both men were covered in oil and puddles of it lay on the ground.
“Were either of you hurt? Bitten? Clawed? Did you get any blood on you?”
“No,” Jubal said. He looked at Paul and they broke into laughter again. “We’re just covered, ready for the fryer. How about you?”
Zev let the tension drain out of him, although he was fairly certain the two men were bordering on hysteria. “I’m covered in oil as well.” He sank down onto the ground beside them and surveyed the four massive bodies. “So are they. What did you do?”
Paul grinned and wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing more oil. “I kept throwing buckets of the stuff at it while Jubal kept shooting. Eventually, the darn thing went down, but it took about ten arrows and five full buckets of the stuff. I can’t believe you managed to conjure up a replenishing container of oil.”
Travis came and sat down between Paul and Zev. He looked at the three men. “I’d much rather fight a vampire,” he declared with a small shudder.
“You’re not alone in that,” Paul agreed.
“We’ve got a mess to clean up,” Zev said. “Although I think I’m feeling a little sleepy.”
Jubal threw a handful of dirt at him. “Don’t even think about running out on us.”
Zev yawned. “Really. The sun is getting to me.”
“We’ll get to you,” Paul declared, making a move as though he might tackle Zev.
Zev was too fast, leaping to his feet, nearly skidding in the oil. “Fine. I’ll help. But you two made a mess.”
“We saved the day,” Jubal announced solemnly. “We were discussing medals of valor.”
Zev’s eyebrow shot up. “Medals?” he repeated, as if he wasn’t certain what that was.
“Of valor,” Paul said. “Trav can get in on it, too. We even designed one.” He looked at Jubal and the two of them roared with laughter.
Zev shook his head. “Young Travis, this is clearly a side effect of getting too close to one of the hellhounds. Their brains are addled.”
Travis nodded. “I can see that. We’d better leave them to it and clean up downstairs so the kids can get out of the safe room. They’ll be frightened.”
They turned away and Paul yelped in panic. “Wait! You can’t leave. You have to burn all this.”
Turning back, Zev laughed at the stricken faces of Jubal and Paul. Even Travis laughed with him. “I notice I get the work and you get the medals.” He called down the lightning and directed it over the bodies, incinerating them and the black, shiny blood that had spread throughout the yard.
“As it should be,” Paul muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Zev to hear.
A whip of lightning struck a few feet from Paul’s feet, getting the last of the blood from the ground. Paul practically leapt over the top of Jubal to get away from the sizzling tip.
“I’m telling Branislava on you,” he called out, using the last resort he had to even the odds.