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He clamped his hands on my upper arms, his grip strong, and I writhed hysterically. “Stop moving, bitch,” he hissed at me.
He should have pinned my hands. Idiot.
I wailed like a baby, whirled around, and slammed my blade into his groin, destroying his femoral artery. “I’m so scared!” I sobbed dramatically, drowning out his shout. “What is happening?” With another quick thrust, I drove my blade up into his throat so he couldn’t shout anymore.
Whoops, there goes the blood. The arterial spray hit me dead in the face. I quickly ducked out of Scruffy Beard’s embrace and pushed his body into the barrier. He toppled over, landing with a sickening thud on the concrete next to Darryl.
I risked a glance down into the pit. The battle goose’s white feathers were covered in blood, but he was holding his ground, his thick powerful neck stretched out and hissing as the pit bulls attacked from each side. The dogs were covered in angry red slashes; one had a gaping wet hole where her eye had been.
My gut churned. I had to get him out of there.
One more wolf to go.
Unfortunately, it seemed like the jig was up. The man changed as he came at me, snarling. His thin lips stretched out into a muzzle, razor-sharp teeth pushing out of black gums. Adrenaline scorched through me, fear burning away the last of the alcohol in my veins.
My brain throbbed, and in a split-second I ran through possibilities. How? How was I going to get through this?
Any thrust of my blade would start to heal immediately in his wolf form. He had over two hundred pounds on me, and he was coming at me fast. In no time at all he dropped down, moving to a quadrupedal gait. The wolf’s shift was lightning-fast, his skin rolled and boiled, exploding in a heavy mass of thick-packed muscle and dark gray fur as he moved towards me. It was too late to even think, so instead, I surrendered to my instincts.
I froze.
Time slowed down, my pulse thudded, my eyes scanned the wolf as he charged towards me. His thoughts were snarly and feral, but I could still see them clearly. A vision blazed within his blood-red aura, an image of an enormous, vicious gray wolf leaping in the air and slamming his enormous paws into a young woman, shoving her to the ground, raking his claws into her, ripping off her soft breasts before tearing out her throat with a sickening rip of his huge jaws.
He jumped. I twisted sideways at the very last second, and he flew by me, smacking headfirst into the concrete wall. He hit the ground, let out a soft whine, shook his head and got back up. A low, bowel-watering snarl came out of his muzzle as he turned and faced me again.
I backed up until I hit the barrier of the pit behind me, shaking my head in terror. “No! Please… no!”
The wolf stalked towards me, saliva dripping from his gaping maw. He let out a low growl, deep in his chest, then he sprang.
I dropped.
The wolf sailed over my head, landing in the pit.
The dogs both let out a yelp and backed away from the blood-covered goose. Now that one of their masters was in the pit with them, they submitted immediately. Ruby, the tan one, scuttled away and lay down next to Darryl’s body. Big brown Margot hid behind Scruffy Beard’s corpse.
The werewolf scrambled and leapt back up at me immediately, huge jaws snapping and flinging spittle. I moved too late; his claw ripped into my shoulder, tearing fabric and skin. I screamed and slammed my blade into his face sideways, hoping to hit the jugular. I wasn’t trained to kill werewolves, though; I hit his cheek, slicing open his muzzle. He reared back, snarling, and scrambled back up the wall, hanging over the barrier, trying to get to me. I swung my blade again frantically, and he snapped, fetid hot breath washed over me, his vicious fangs missed me by a fraction of an inch.
Desperately, I swung my blade, burying it in his neck. The wolf snarled, reached out, hooked his claws back into my jacket and yanked me towards him. Just then, his back paws lost their grip on the wall, and he fell, taking not only Stubby McStabby with him, but me, too.
We both tumbled down into the pit.
Chapter Eight
I rolled and sprang to my feet. The wolf’s eyes locked onto me. Stubby McStabby was still deep in his neck; the handle protruded from the fur like a sinister mushroom, but he acted like it wasn’t there. Like me, the wolf was ignoring his injuries.
I backed away, my eyes fixed on his gaping, slavering muzzle.
This was it—I was dead. If the wolf didn’t finish me, his fighting dogs would. Both pit bulls were still hunkered down by Darryl’s body. Then, I spotted Margot, surreptitiously ripping open the skin at Darryl’s back where I’d stabbed him in the kidney.
Oh. They’d been starving the dogs.
Ruby, too, was lying on her belly, her face buried in the stomach of the other dead guy, Mr. Scruffy Beard. They were not a threat, not for now, anyway, not by the way they were frantically and desperately devouring hunks of their dead masters.
I flicked my eyes back to the enormous gray wolf. He had me now, and he knew it. He lowered his head, black eyes fixed on me, two bottomless pits of despair, exactly like the one I’d just found myself in.
He stalked towards me. There was nowhere to run.
No escape.
