I’ve been sitting at this gas station for so long that my legs are starting to get cramps. I climb out of my car through the windshield and stretch my legs.
The door to the gas station opens, and a young man comes out. His face is covered in pimples, braces his teeth, and grease his hair.
“Do you need help?” he asks in a voice that cracks.
“Are you old enough to be working?” I ask.
“What happened to your—”
“What happened to people minding their own business?”
“Do you need me to call—”
“I need nothing from you.”
He nods and walks backward a few steps as if he doesn’t really want to go.
A few cars have come here to gas up, and a bike rolls up and turns into the lot. Instead of pulling up at one of the pumps, the bike comes to a stop beside me.
The rider removes his helmet.
Darius.
“You ride a motorcycle?” I ask, gaping at him.
“Why is that so hard for you to believe?” He grins.
“I guess you’re not as straight-laced as I thought.”
“You two know each other?” the gas station worker asks.
“Clearly,” Darius says, his tone dry.
The worker shakes his head and enters the building.
Darius glances behind me and lets out a low whistle. “Your car is wrecked.”
“It’s drivable.”
“No way. Hop on. I have an extra—”
"Not happening. Are we going to game plan here?"
“When have you eaten last?”
“Not sure.”
“I don’t think you should get in that death trap, but follow me. I saw a place on the way here that looks good.”
I hate that I have to climb in through the broken windshield, especially since I know Darius is watching. We head to the restaurant. It's a rustic Irish pub, and the bangers and mash are amazing. I eat like I'm starving, and thankfully, Darius says nothing about my appetite.
We talk about weapons and how many there are, and then I have to tell him about the werewolves themselves.
“They’re not normal werewolves.”
“I gathered that. How are they different?”
“They don’t die easily.”
He lifts his eyebrows.
“They’re harder to kill than normal werewolves. They’re bloodthirsty and—”
“You don’t have to tell me why we need to kill them.”
“No, I think the bloodthirstiness—is that even a word?—it’s why they’re so strong and nearly unstoppable. They had ties to Amarok.”
“I learned about Amarok,” he murmurs. “But he was killed years ago.”
I shrug. “I don’t know why they’re all of a sudden so vicious.”
“Don’t worry. They won’t have a chance to kill again,” he says.
“Eight of them. How are we going to take them out?”
“By working together.” Darius reaches inside his coat and removes a map and a vial. He pours the contents onto the map. The black liquid pools into a small ball that shifts around on the map until it settles into a certain spot.
“What is that?” I ask, amazed.
"Magic," he says. "A friend gave this to me and said it would point out what I most what to know."
"And right now, that is…"
“The location of the werewolves, of course. They’re here.”
“Here?”
“In Erie.”
“They followed me all the way here?” I gape at him. “How is that possible?”
"Your scent, maybe. A bug? It doesn't matter how."
“I guess not. Do you know their exact location?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
Darius brings me to Thomas Road. There's a wooded area behind it, and I hate all of the shadows.
“Are you ready?” he murmurs.
“I’ve done this before,” I remind him.
“I know, but—”
“No buts.”
I have my gun and the angel blade out. I have far more bullets than stakes, courtesy of the genie.
“Look alive,” Darius says.
“I don’t think I can look more alive.”
“You do know the meaning of the phrase, don’t you?”
“Yes. Why you want me to hurry up, I don’t know especially considering we don’t know where to—”
A twig snaps.
I whirl around. A werewolf is heading straight for us.
With a grin, I shoot the werewolf and don’t stop until it falls down.
Purple flashes in my peripheral vision, and a whine follows.
More werewolves approach out of the trees. It's actually a good thing we're in a wooded area instead of a grassy field. The werewolves don't have direct access to us. The trees are slowing them down.
One leaps at me, and I hold my ground, bringing up both my gun and the blade. I fire off three shots and slice his throat. An arc of crimson blood flies as I run forward, causing him to leap over my head. He lands hard on the ground, but he struggles to climb to his feet. Swiftly, I climb up his back and stab him in the back of the neck. He slumps.
Two down on my side. Two down on Darius’s. Only four to go. Hmm. Maybe I didn’t need Darius after all. I just needed to face them out of my car.
Darius tackles two at the same time, but I can’t offer any help. One is advancing on me. It’s the werewolf with the scar from my dagger in his ear.
“Where’s my dagger?” I ask.
The werewolf howls.
“I’m sorry. I don’t speak bloodthirsty werewolf. Are you thirsty? How about some of your blood?”
I swing the blade, intending on cutting his throat, but he swipes at me with his massive paw. He’s too fast. Even though I jerk back and try to jump to the side, he still connects, and I land hard. Before I can scramble to my feet, he’s already on top of me.
“I still want that blade,” I murmur. “Maybe we can cut a deal. You give me back the dagger, and maybe I’ll—”
He winds up his paw.
I hold the dagger against his throat and shove the barrel of my gun into his mouth. “My dagger.”
He slams his paw against the side of my head. Wow. I'm seeing stars, tiny bursts of color dancing on my eyelids.
Quickly, before I can even recover, I pull the trigger, and the gun goes off. I open my eyes to see the werewolf’s eyes go listless.
The werewolf tumbles forward, but I manage to get out from under him and stand. Another werewolf is at Darius’s feet. He’s facing the second one now.
Wait. There should be one more. Frank’s missing.
I glance every which way, desperate to find him when suddenly, a hand snakes around my throat, and there’s a blade pressing into my tender flesh there.
“I heard you were looking for this,” Frank says.
“Maybe.” I want to swallow, but I don’t dare. I can’t take my eyes off him for one second, and if he gives any more pressure on the blade—my blade—he’ll cut my skin.
“You’ll die by the very weapon you adore,” he says calmly.
I slam my fist into his wrist. He doesn’t drop the blade, but his grip and hold on me disappear. He goes to put the dagger back against my skin, but I block with the angel blade and force the dagger away. He’s still holding it but not where it can immediately hurt me.
“What did Amarok do to you?” I demand. “How did you become like this?”
“You don’t need to know,” he hisses.
Darius and his werewolf are really going at it. There’s no clear victor over there, but I can’t help him.
“No? Curiosity killed the cat.”
His grin grows.
“But satisfaction brought him back. I release my angel blade from blocking his and stab Frank in the stomach and in the chest. He staggers back, finally showing some weakness, and I duck and slide to stand facing him at his hip, grip the back of his head, and press the angel blade to his throat.
“I would like some answers before I kill you, but if I have to, I’ll drop you first.”
Frank hisses more like a cat than any sound a wolf would make. He backhands me right in the face. I fall back, the angel blade slicing his throat so superficially that it barely makes him bleed.
He comes at me then as if possessed, as if a berserker, a flurry of kicks and punches. The dagger is still in his hand, and I’m forced back more and more and more.
Frank slashes with his dagger. I block and counter, but he grabs my wrist and squeezes so tightly I have no choice but to open my hand. The angel blade falls, and he plucks it out of the air with the hand holding his dagger.
Using his grip on my wrist for balance, I do a high crescent kick and kick him right in the face. At the same time, I bring up my gun and hold it point-blank at his chest.
“Kill me, and I’ll kill you,” I say even though it doesn’t make any sense. My head is swimming, my body aching and bleeding. At least I think some of the wetness is from my blood and not just my enemy’s.
A blast of purple magic comes dangerously close to hitting Frank and me.
“Or I’ll just kill you,” Darius says.
Frank brings down the dagger and the angel blade. They cut into my shoulder deep, and I bite my lower lip to keep from screaming out.
A well-placed blast of magic hits Frank, and he releases his hold on the weapons, but the blades remain in my wound.
He’s struck again by magic, and I yank out one of the blades. My old dagger. I slash Frank. My wounded arm doesn’t move at all, but I can’t worry about that now.
Darius and I press the attack. The witch approaches and steps beside me. We advance as Frank retreats, wounding him more and more until he drops to his knees.
I grab his hair and force him to look up. His face is covered in blood, one eye black from when I slammed the hilt against it. Finally, he’s healing slowly.
“Start talking,” I say.
Darius holds a larger blast of arcane magic but doesn’t release it. A blast like that should finish Frank off.
“Amarok changed us, but we weren’t the only pack to be changed,” Frank says, his tone sullen. He won’t look at me.
“Go on,” I urge.
Darius makes his magic even bigger. It’s impressive that he can show so much restraint and not let it loose.
“Where’s Risha?” Frank glances around frantically.
“She ate arcane magic,” Darius says calmly.
Frank grits his teeth.
“Keep talking,” I urge.
He shoves a hand into his pocket and removes a vial. He tries to uncork it, but I yank out the angel blade and bring it down so swiftly that I chop off some of his fingers. The vial, fingers attached yet, falls to the ground. Darius kicks it away.
“What is that?” I demand.
“Looks like blood,” Darius muses.
Frank bares his teeth. With the blood streaming down his face, he looks more demonic than animalistic. "We fled after I killed our weak alpha."
“Wyatt,” I supply.
He nods. “Risha had already reached out to us, but Wyatt didn’t want to go to her. I suppose I should thank you for weakening him. It made killing him so much easier.” He grins, his bloodstained teeth dull and dark.
“Risha was the alpha of the other pack that joined yours,” I assume.
“A smaller pack but only because not all were worthy.”
“Worthy of what?” Darius asks. Sweat beads dot his forehead. From the strain from controlling all of that loose magic maybe? I don’t see any wounds on him.
"Amarok's blood. I don't know how she has access to it, but it changes us, makes us stronger, makes it so that human flesh and blood increase our strength too." Frank's grin grows wider, but it's broken when he coughs, blood spraying from his lips.
“She must have found the stash only recently,” I guess.
Frank scowls. “I’m done talking.”
“Is there more? Where is it?” I demand.
Frank doesn’t answer. He comes at me again, trying to kill me.
Darius trips me. I go down hard, and Frank jumps on top of me. I’m ready to scream at the witch as I struggle to keep Frank back, but Darius finally releases the magic. The blast hits Frank, knocking him off me, causing him to almost fly. His back slams into a pine tree, and he falls to the ground.
Gripping the angel blade, I stagger over to him. I can’t move my one arm still, even with the blades removed, so my gait is off. I end up tripping, landing on Frank, and I stab him through the ear to make certain he’s dead.
Darius helps me up, and I reach into my pouch. I only have a few more healing draughts, but I drink one. Unfortunately, I don’t feel immediately better, but I can roll that shoulder at least.
“Amarok.” Darius shakes his head. “You went up against a pack of Amarok’s followers by yourself. You really are insane.”
“Maybe. But then I think a human bounty hunter of the supernatural has to be a little insane, don’t you?”
He just shakes his head.