Demon Moon

the wyrmwolf outside the window hadn’t—
    “There are two,” she realized in horror.
    “Yes,” he said grimly. “It’s on the roof, waiting.” He turned his head, looked at her over his shoulder, his profile drawn in stark relief against the darkness of the empty window beyond. “I can’t stay in here, Savi. You’re bleeding.”
    She forced the words past the ache in her throat. “You would have fed from me tonight anyway.”
    His eyes closed. The blades rattled together before he separated them; he held them to his sides, one in each hand. “I don’t know that I could stop, or make it pleasurable. I’m not at my best at this moment.” He dragged in a deep breath. “Auntie will shortly be leaving the restaurant.”
    Oh, god. He’d danced with Nani, kissed her. If the wyrmwolves were attracted to his scent, they might abandon the protected car for easier prey only two blocks distant.
    His face wavered in front of her. “Colin—”
    “Don’t cry, sweet; I’ve every intention of trouncing them soundly.” He sighed. “Though I must confess I didn’t expect to make my heroic exit through the boot.”
    She covered her face with her uninjured hand. How could she laugh at such a time? “At least your exit will be a beautiful one,” she said, looking through her fingers. “Your assumption was correct; you are spectacular from this angle.”
    His teeth flashed in a grin. “Consider yourself kissed senseless. I daren’t do it in reality.”
    He paused, held her gaze for a long second. Then he was gone in a blur of movement; the trunk lid swung up and thudded shut.
    The wyrmwolf at her window disappeared.
    Savi scrambled into the destroyed backseat, peering into the trunk cavity. There had to be something. She was useless with a sword, far too slow, but with a gun or a crossbow she could remain at a distance and offer him some help.
    Blood spattered silently across the passenger side window. Let it be theirs. Please let it be theirs . She groped wildly, blindly around the trunk’s interior.
    Nothing. The car rattled, as if an earthquake shook the ground beneath. She rose up on her knees, her breath coming in desperate pants as she stared into the darkened parking lot. Think, Savi . But everything took too long, or would put her in a position that might divert his attention and endanger him.
    A short, hysterical laugh fell from her lips. As if he could be in any more danger than he was.
    Colin suddenly landed on the trunk, splayed on his back. He instantly flipped upright, and his feet danced across the gleaming surface before he leapt down. A wyrmwolf’s underbelly—scales and glistening flesh—flashed into her view as it followed him. Only one…where was the other? Had he killed it?
    Her fingers clenched into fists. She really fucking hoped so, and she wished she could have seen it happen.
    At the far end of the lot, another four-legged beast streaked across the pavement, its canine form lit briefly by a security light.
    Savi started forward in terror, ready to jump through the back window and alert Colin, but there was no need—halfway across the parking lot, it shifted into a familiar, horrifying form: a hellhound in its demonic state. As tall as Colin at its shoulder, three heads, and eyes that shone with hellfire.
    Sir Pup.
    Colin’s blades caught the moonlight as he slashed at the wyrmwolf. It launched itself at Colin’s head; he ducked, and Sir Pup caught the wyrmwolf mid-air. The middle pair of the hellhound’s jaws clamped over the wyrmwolf’s midsection, the others on its hindquarters and head.
    Sir Pup made a single, jerking motion, and the wyrmwolf ripped into three pieces. He tilted back his heads and gulped them down.
    Savi clapped her hand over her mouth, and was suddenly grateful for the symbols that disallowed sound to accompany sight.
    Until Colin looked up at the sky, and the expression on his face told her he was laughing—she’d have loved to hear that. After a moment, he waved toward the car with one of his swords, and Sir Pup hopped eagerly in place, like a dog waiting for the toss of a Frisbee.
    Telling him where to find the other wyrmwolf, she supposed. And indeed, Sir Pup ran toward the car, paused briefly with his forelegs braced on the trunk to look at her, and clambered up. He dragged a carcass to the ground beside the car and began tearing at it.
    Oh, no. “Wait!” Savi cried, but of course they couldn’t hear her. She slid into the front seat, pushed