Tricked

is? ‹
    We’ll have to do more than sit here and wait for dawn. We’ll have to try to save him .
    › But not if it means giving you up, right? ‹ When I didn’t answer, Oberon pressed for an answer. › Right, Atticus? ‹
    The skinwalkers hissed, apparently upset that Frank wasn’t interested unless Darren was breathing. They spat out something else, and, whatever it was, it set Sophie to crying anew. Frank shot her a look that said, » I told you so, « but then the lines on his face rearranged themselves into the topography of regret. He gingerly knelt down next to his jish and announced he would begin to sing again.
    Darren’s dead , I told Oberon. You don’t need to worry about me .
    › Oh. Well, I’m sorry to hear about Darren. He smelled like a very nice guy. ‹
    I was sorry too. But I wasn’t going to be allowed to mourn him now, nor was Frank going to get started on that new song.
    A sound like steel tearing erupted from the throats of the skinwalkers and they attacked the wall again, this time with spirit-juiced human fists. They weren’t as effective as the bobcat forms, and I had no difficulty rebinding any damage they did.
    The futility of it sank in after a few minutes and they subsided, but while everyone else was comforted by this, it worried me. I’ve met more than my fair share of demons and monsters, and usually they’re so full of juvenile rage that they’re incapable of dialing down the aggression until they’ve killed something. You can’t ever talk your way out of a fight with creatures like that, but you can predict their behavior reliably and use it against them. Up to now they’d attacked us using the » Hulk smash! « school of martial arts. Silence and peace just meant they were going to try something else. But what? The ground was covered. The door was safe. The walls were getting there. That left … the roof.
    The roof wasn’t finished by a long shot. That plastic sheeting wouldn’t slow them down much, and those lads were so slim they could drop down through the trusses and beams without any trouble. But they’d have to stand still for a moment to tear a hole through the plastic, and during that time they’d be vulnerable. I rose from my crouch and addressed the room.
    » Does anyone have a gun? « The looks I got in response suggested that I’d asked about something profoundly distasteful, like trickle-down economics or the poetry of William Blake. » Okay, how about a knife? «
    Ben had a decent knife clipped to his belt. He nodded at me and handed it over, hilt first.
    » Thanks, « I said. I grabbed the shovel Granuaile had used and unscrewed the wooden handle from the blade. I used the knife to whittle the end of the handle down to a sharpened point, unbinding the cellulose a bit to make the work go easier. I had a makeshift javelin in less than thirty seconds. Switching the javelin and knife between my two hands, I held the tip of the javelin over the fire to heat it up a bit and kept an eye on the ceiling.
    Granuaile and Oberon figured it out by watching me.
    » Oh, no, the roof … « she breathed.
    » That’s right, « I said. » That’s their best shot. « I gently tossed the knife at her feet. » If they get through, they’re coming after me because of the compulsion Hel put on them. And once they do that, stab ’em in the back and duck. «
    » Will that kill them? «
    » Probably not. But it will distract them, maybe give me a chance to draw my sword or save my life—you know, that kind of thing. « I flashed a quick grin at her to try to lighten up the message. It didn’t seem to relax her very much. The tip of the javelin was beginning to smoke and glow orange: good. I moved back to the north wall to encourage the skinwalkers to attack on that side, if they were coming at all. I boosted my reflexes and strength with temporary bindings, hoping they would be enough to let me get a decent shot. I’d get only one.
    › How are they going to get up there? ‹ Oberon asked.
    My guess is an alley-oop. One of them will toss the other up. They’re strong enough to manage it . They proved it a few seconds later.
    Take two Fords from the 1940s and scrape them against each other at an excruciating three miles per hour, then feed that sound through the amps at a Motörhead concert: That’s what the skinwalker sounded like when he landed on the roof directly above me and tried to paralyze us all with fear as he tore at the plastic sheeting. Most