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Barks and growls rent the air. They were no more than three feet behind them, chasing them in the cover of the shadows while Shay and Roman fled in the protection of the light.
“Roman,” she gritted out.
“I know.”
They were almost there. Shay’s heart thundered, and her head pounded like an anvil. With her arm wrapped tightly around Roman’s neck, she could feel his heart beating just as hard.
One of the demons took a chance and dove for them, only to fall back with a yelp as the waning sun burned its flesh.
Roman panted, “Not today, asshole.”
There was the car—glinting in the very last of the day’s light.
Roman skidded to a halt beside it in a cloud of dust. He practically threw Shay into the passenger’s seat with the bags and then got in his side. He started the engine, his movements blindingly fast.
Shay turned to look out the back window—but stopped herself before she could see anything, not wanting to glimpse the foul things that were hunting them.
“Roman,” she choked out. They were surrounding the car—she didn’t have to see them to know this. She could feel them.
They were hungry.
He spun the car around and raced down the highway.
For several long minutes, their rapid breathing and the hum of the engine were the only sounds. Shay hoped like hell that none of those creatures would attack the car; spells only offered so much protection. If the car was flipped over or destroyed just enough, the spells would fail to function.
Roman broke the silence first, his voice still tense. “Pup?”
“Yeah?” She couldn’t catch her breath.
“Do me a favor.”
“Sure.” After he’d just saved her life? Twice? She’d do just about anything he asked.
“Don’t look in the mirrors,” Roman said.
She didn’t.
41
Foxhill Rentals
FOXHILL, STATE OF WITHEREDGE
“Max?” Dallas called. “I don’t think it’s the brightest idea for a well-known Darkslayer to keep yanking on the door of a closed building.” He rattled the handle again, prompting Dallas to noisily clear her throat. “Security cameras!” she hollered. “Hello?”
He pushed away from the glass doors of Foxhill Rentals and ran a hand through his hair. “What kind of business closes at five o’clock?”
“Uhhhh,” Malakai drawled, giving Max an are-you-stupid look, “lots of them. Nighttime big problem, remember?” He pointed a tattooed finger at the twilit sky.
Max swore. “It’s inconvenient.” With one last glare at the hours of operation taped to the glass, he stomped over and joined the group standing by the bike and SUV.
“We’ll come back first thing in the morning,” Aspen said, fighting a hand through the tangles and knots the wind had put in her mahogany hair. “But we should probably figure out where we’re staying, or we’re going to have to dog-pile in the SUV.”
Dominic said, “I vote Malakai takes the bottom.”
“Anybody spot any vacancy signs on the way in?” Max asked. He wasn’t hopeful; they hadn’t passed many hotels, and the town wasn’t so big that he would’ve missed them.
Blue’s brow creased. “Vacancy?” She looked up at Dominic, the low brim of her sports hat forcing her to tip her head farther back to see the Angel’s face.
