A Wolf at the Door

Whatever this thing was, it was faster than the last one I’d faced, more coordinated. Not-Alec lunged for me, and I only barely ducked under one grasping arm. Somehow, I knew I didn’t want that thing getting a grip on me. As I moved past it, I kicked it square in the kidneys (if it had kidneys), using its own momentum to send it careening into the crowd. By the time it turned around, I had Mira’s pentacle charm in my hand, and the next time it grabbed for me, I caught its arm, mashing the blessed star against its bare wrist.

Nothing. No reaction at all. Not a zombie. And now I was within reach. It hammered a forearm down on my shoulder like a freakin’ anvil, and the leather bracer on that arm flared white-hot for a second. I’d almost forgotten I was wearing them. I was left with a dull ache instead of a shattered collarbone. Mira’s spells, saving me again.

My fists found its ribs, landing blows that would have dropped a human this size, but I felt only a dull thud under my knuckles. No ridges of ribs, no tight muscles, no squishy guts. What the hell was this thing? And of course, the punches had no effect. It kept advancing, like Frankenstein’s monster, inexorable. I could only dodge those grasping arms so long, and I dared one last elbow to the face before I darted out of reach again.

Again, my bracer flared hot—cooler than before, how much longer would the spell last?—and Alec’s perfectly formed nose smashed sideways…and stayed that way. The thing paused, blinking as it found one eye partially blocked by a blob of what used to be a nose.

“Oh, I got you now.” Normally, I wouldn’t kick that high. Leaving your feet in a fight is the best way to get knocked on your ass. But nothing else had made a dent, until that moment, and I needed to exploit that weakness.

With a two-step run-up, I launched a jumping side kick square into Alec’s formerly normal face, the thing staggering back a couple of paces as I landed light on my feet.

My boot left a perfect print, like I’d walked through soft mud.

Before I could ponder just what that meant, Bobby did something monumentally stupid. I’d forgotten he was there, actually, taking it for granted that they’d spirited their charge out like they were supposed to.

His arm snaked around the tall creature’s throat, putting it in a choke hold that would have meant lights out for anything else. As I’d discovered already, this thing wasn’t going to go down that easily.

“Bobby, don’t!”

My warning was too late, of course. The thing spun in Bobby’s hold, wrapping its arms around his rib cage and bodily lifting the big marine off his feet. Still, Bobby refused to let go, smashing his forehead into the thing’s mangled face twice, even as his own face was going blue.

God, I could hear his ribs cracking as the thing squeezed. The sound was louder, it seemed, than Gretchen’s screams and the distant sirens outside as help finally arrived. “Let him go!” It was me the thing wanted, dammit, not Bobby.

The only thing I could think to do was hit it until it stopped moving. The spells on my right bracer lasted exactly one hit, and caved the back of the thing’s head in. The left one lasted two more before it flared into ordinary, scorched leather, and by that point, the creature’s head was a lopsided mass of…I have no idea what. One ear was on top of what remained of its pulp of a head, the other was caved so far in I couldn’t even find it. What had appeared to be hair was now a solid mess of brownish paste, and one cheekbone jutted out at an impossible angle to the rest of the face.

Staggering on its two feet, it dropped Bobby, which was really all I’d needed. The bodyguard fell to the ground and didn’t move, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

I expected the thing to turn and come at me again, but apparently having its head mashed into a Picasso painting was causing some problems. It turned to look at me once with its one functional eye, the other smashed closed by Bobby’s forceful head butts, then lumbered off into the chaos, tossing people from its path like they were so much kindling.

I wanted to follow. Everything in me ached to chase it down and kill it. But I didn’t know how, still, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t take it one-on-one. And we had a man down.

Gretchen was leaning over Bobby, tears streaming down her face as she tried to wipe the blood away, smearing it more than anything. “Oh God…Oh God…Bobby…” Her phone was in her hand, though, smart girl that she was, and I could tell she already had the paramedics on the way. Tai towered over them, gun drawn but pointed safely down, standing grim guard, but the lunacy that had overtaken the party guests seemed to be fading. It left behind a room full of the broken and the bleeding.