Kate Daniels 02 - Magic Burns

strode through the mist. The metal refuse crunched and groaned, protesting the weight, and a monster stepped into the clearing. Tall, broad shouldered, wrapped in steel-hard muscle and clothed in gray fur, striped with slashes of darker gray.
    Curran.
    What the hell was he doing?
    â€œYou first,” he said. His jaws were big enough to enclose my skull, his fangs were longer than my fingers, but his diction was perfect.
    Behind the Shepherd, Ugad shifted the cross forward, setting it down with a heavy thud. I saw a small, thin body stretched on the pole, legs tied, arms spread wide on a cross-piece. Julie. Oh God.
    I grabbed Bran by his shirt and dragged him to me. “Take me there now!”
    â€œI can’t!” he snapped.
    My heart tried to break through my chest. Slayer smoked. Julie’s eyes were closed, her color so pale she might have been dead already.
    I would have given my right arm to be there now.
    Curran raised his hand, displaying charms and coins dangling from his claws.
    Bran howled. “What’s he doing? Stop, you whoreson! No!”
    â€œThe child for the necklace. As agreed,” Curran said.
    The Shepherd’s whisper raised the tiny hairs on the back of my neck. “You shouldn’t have come alone, beast.”
    Reeves burst out from under the metal scrap. They swarmed Curran, falling onto each other. In a blink he was covered with a mound of squirming bodies.
    I clenched my fists, expecting him to break out. Fight, Curran. Fight back. Any moment the bodies would come flying and he’d burst free from the pile of flesh. Any moment…My neck constricted as if caught by a garrote. The reeves screeched.
    â€œNo, no, no! Damn you, sonovabitch, do something!” Bran hurled his crossbow into the vision. It pierced the image and shattered against the wall.
    A jaguar crashed into the Shepherd. He gave no warning, no snarl, no sound at all. Huge fangs flashed and the Shepherd’s head drooped to his chest from the broken neck. Jim paused for the briefest of moments, reveling in the kill, and chased after Ugad.
    Four beasts darted from the mist, snapping and biting at Ugad’s legs. A wolf let out a short snarl.
    Huge hands thrust through the reeves and tore them aside. Curran emerged. Red gashes marked his fur. Now I understood the plan: he had expected a double cross and chose to bear the bulk of the assault, buying time for the shapeshifters to retrieve Julie.
    The reeves scrambled back to him. He grasped one, tore it in two, and hurled the twitching remnants to the ground. The reeve went liquid. The puddle of its slime twisted upward in a corkscrew and solidified into the reeve. She was once again whole.
    â€œWhy isn’t she dying?”
    â€œThe cauldron’s too close,” Bran said through clenched teeth.
    They couldn’t win. The best they could do was to break away.
    Curran swiped at another reeve, crushing her head like an eggshell. She went liquid too and re-formed within seconds.
    â€œStop killing, dimwit! Maim! Maim them, you son of a whore!” Bran yelled.
    Two dozen yards away Ugad stomped and spun about, raking at the shapeshifters with his enormous fists. They lunged at his feet, driving him forward, into the metal spikes. Ugad spun. The huge barbed tail swung like a club and smashed a shaggy body. The shapeshifter flew through the air and bounced off the metal shell of a ruined car. The beast crashed to the ground, stunned.
    Ugad jumped. As if in a nightmare, I saw his huge foot stomp onto the prone beast and heard the crunch of broken bones. Blood sprayed. The monster turned, leaving a nude human body broken on the ground. I saw the shock of electric-blue hair stained with bright red spray. I clenched my fists. I could do nothing. I couldn’t make it stop. I just watched, helpless.
    The jaguar leaped onto Ugad’s head. The giant hurled the cross aside to pummel at the new threat. The cross spun on its base, teetered, plunged, Julie hanging limp like a ragdoll, about to be crushed. A slight, sand-colored shape leaped forward and caught the cross inches from jagged iron. Andrea ripped Julie off the cross.
    A whip of green tentacles struck her, ripping fur and skin from her thigh. Raw muscle, red and wet, glared through the wound. The Shepherd hissed. He was once again whole, his rags flaring about his thin body. Andrea ran. Tentacles slapped her. She cried out. I winced. Andrea kept going.
    One step.
    Two.
    She