I straighten. The current situation is perfect for my purposes. I can remain as close as I want now. Doing whatever is necessary is what makes me the best hunter there is. I will sniff out Grandma, and Red will stay in her little human world. Not that I care where Red stays or goes.
I stride back toward the café. As I approach the table where Red sits, I can tell she’s agitated. Sliding into the seat across from her, I try to pretend I don’t notice her continually squirming in her seat. While her pen taps against the table without any rhythm, her knee jiggles beneath the table. I’m tempted to say something when she sighs for the third time in five minutes, but I manage to resist.
Not my business.
Just when I think she’s about to explode, Red pushes up from the table. “I need to get home and grab a book I forgot. And then I need to go to the library. I’ll be able to think better there.”
The empty mugs rattle on the table.
Our gazes lock in uncertainty.
Another slam of the ground and all the tables rattle violently. Red grabs her mug as we hear the crash of ceramic around us. Others look around, frantically trying to discern the cause of two earthquakes so close together.
A dark feeling fills me. Red’s gaze slides from mine to over my shoulder, to the café window, rounding in horror as they go. “What the fuck is that doing here?”
I turn around. Two massive trunks in a gray, green hue lumber toward us. The pair of elephantine legs belong to an ogre, and it’s headed right toward the café.
This isn’t a coincidence. This is another attack.
“We need to get out of here.”
“Holy hell, how is another fae here?” she breathes, while she remains sitting as if frozen by fear.
I reach out to grab her arm, but she jerks out of reach before I can.
No touching, right.
Instead, I grab her laptop and shove it in her open bag with her books, using it as bait. Now she is on her feet.
“Is there a back way out of here?” I yell to a slack jawed barista. She blinks twice before shaking her head no.
Faefucks. Knowing there is no other way, I charge toward the door, Red’s bag slung over my shoulder. She’s hot on my heels.Good girl.
Outside, the crisp air is now polluted by the ogre’s hot, fetid breath. He stands over twenty-five feet, and his head flattens at the top where long, lateral wrinkles of flesh gather over his eyes. A mouth decorated with three rotted teeth opens and a grunt emerges. Worst of all, a mottled schwang hangs between his legs as he doesn’t have a single stitch on.
“Yuck,” I hear Red mutter, and know she’s admiring the same appendage.
Two murky yellow eyes roll down toward us.
“Run,” I snap.
We both take off, but the Ogre has a long reach. A ham fist closes around Red, and he plucks her off the ground.
The pained sound of distress that escapes her makes my blood boil and panic shoot off like fireworks in my head.
I drop the bag and rip off my shirt. I kick off my boots, then my pants and jump into action. My muscles swell and heat until they are almost on fire. Silver fur sprouts on my naked body and I change in a single leap. The Ogre turns, lumbering away with Red who yells curses and struggles futilely in his grip. Clumps of grass spin out from under my feet as I close the distance.
Leaping up, I land on the ogre’s shoulder, biting down on the thick hide of his neck. It should be his most vulnerable part, but like the rest of his body he’s protected by almost impenetrable skin. Still, I sink my teeth in harder. A roar escapes the ogre, and he opens his hand, dropping Red.
She hits the ground with an ‘oof,’ but she survives the fall. The Ogre wraps a meaty hand around my torso and flings me across the field. A yelp escapes me as I fly through the air before smashing side first into the ground. I skid several more feet.
The ogre’s hand closes around Red a second time, even as she tries to scramble away. I don’t hesitate to dash across the field. I leap again and bite into the same spot on his neck, hoping I broke some of the skin so I can dig in. Trying to cut in deeper, I jerk my head back and forth. A sour, salty taste fills my mouth as I break through the tough hide, tasting the copper of blood. But my bite is too shallow. I’m not doing much more than annoying the ogre.
I’m swatted away like a fly, and slam into the ground again. Pain radiates through my ribs. They’re bruised if not cracked. My focus outweighs any injury, and I turn to the lumbering Ogre again, already reassessing.
The damn thing is built like a tank, but ogres are notoriously slow, stupid, and easily confused. I doubt the fae will let me challenge him to a game of wits. Then my eyes alight on Issac Clout’s statue. Maybe he can continue to serve his mission in death.
Dive bombing the ogre’s feet, I nip and bark, weaving between his legs. The Ogre can’t walk straight as I badger him. He groans and waves his free hand in an attempt to keep his balance.
