Then the tsunami came. Dozens of paranormals were hammering up the stairs and barging through the house, their rubber gloves and aprons dusted in white powder.
I cupped my palm over my nose and mouth as Dagger, still aiming his gun at Armand, slowly moved us toward the side wall, letting the throngs of what appeared to be illegal drug lab workers bustle and nudge past as they escaped into the night. Speaking out the side of his mouth at me, he said, “Fuck the small fry. I always aim for the big—”
Dagger got knocked sideways by a fleeing wind elemental who was blasting gusts of air from his fingertips to clear a quicker path for himself to the door. Stumbling, Dagger thumped against the crumbling drywall, one hand momentarily leaving his pistol grip to steady himself.
That was when Armand pounced. Wrenching the pistol from Dagger’s hand, sending it skating across the kitchen floor behind me.
The hordes from below had all fled, but Dagger still wrestled with Armand, slamming him from wall to wall. The decrepit structure quaked and spit crumbles of plaster and stonework down from the cracked ceiling with each forceful thump. That’s when I noticed curls of smoke mingling with the debris. Something below was burning, and I hated to think what the fumes might do. But I couldn’t leave without Dagger.
Armand managed a couple of hapless punches and a headbutt that Dagger barely registered, but then he got a hold on a disgusting vamp cocktail in a wine bottle and smashed the bottle across Dagger’s forehead.
Staggered by the blow, Dagger braced himself on a table withfingernails that had stretched and thickened into jaguar claws. As they dug into the wood, the tats on his hands and upper chest sprouted swatches of jet-black hair. Wiping the crimson alcohol from his face with his sleeve, he glared at Armand with yellow eyes and growled, “Surrender now and I won’t kill you.”
I scuttled backward on my knees, dropping the flashlight and picking up Dagger’s Colt 45. Damn, guns felt so much bulkier and heavier when you held them in real life. And I had no idea how to even use one. Just aim and pull the trigger, I hoped.
With a hair-raising jungle cat yowl, Dagger launched himself at Armand, claws first. Armand held up fists and sidestepped like a boxer, trying to parry a flurry of swipes. Sliced and battered, his sharp black suit half hanging in red ribbons, Armand lost his cool.
After barely dancing clear of a slash that would’ve torn open his throat, the vamp held his hands up, cursing loudly. That’s when he spotted me standing in the kitchen, gripping the Colt in both hands. One eye flared wide. The other had been punched blotchy by Dagger.
“You. It is you. Well, hello there, my little buttercup. Careful where you point that. It’s dangerous, honey.” He grinned at Dagger smugly. “Conrad will be pleased. You’ve led her straight to him. Bravo, police kitty.”
His oily, condescending words, spoken from those bloodthirsty lips, flashed an image of little Billy through my mind, defenseless and crying out for help as Armand sneered. Shaking with both fear and rage, I gulped and wrapped my index finger tight against the .45’s trigger, raising it in his direction.An eye for an—
Thickening smoke stung my eyes and nose as the crackling, popping flames grew closer, casting the distant stairwell to the wine cellar in orange light. The fumes were steadily rising, growing into thick black snakes as the seconds passed. This old house had to be at least three quarters wood. There’d be nothing left of it soon.
The fire began licking along the hallway carpet and gobblingup the peeling paint of the kitchen and living room walls. The living room air had become fogged as grungy discarded furnishings, piles of scrap wood and other flammable trash fueled the fire’s ravenous appetite. The smoke was biting at my throat and lungs as I coughed hard, wiping tears from my eyes.
Through the haze, I could still make out the massive frame of Dagger and Armand’s slender, black-clad build. They’d started tussling again, but this time Dagger was struggling. It wasn’t just Armand and the choking fumes he was up against.
Every time he swung and kicked at Armand, he also seemed to be fighting an invisible force hanging on his back, causing him to stumble about as if blind, as Armand, emboldened by the advantage, began raining blows on Dagger’s face and chest with a length of rusted lead piping.
I raised the Colt, my lungs rasping from the smoke as I peered teary-eyed through the smog, trying to aim a gun for the very first time. I knew Conrad was the invisible third-party making Dagger’s fight so unfair, and I wanted to end his existence so badly. But I could also easily hit Dagger.
I chose a higher priority. Mr. Bad Boy’s life. “Dagger, just leave them. The fire. There’s no time. Shake him off and come on!”
With a defiant yell, Dagger did a thundering throw of the invisible monster on his back, right into Armand, who in turn careered backward. The vicious vamp stumbled out from the smoke just a few feet in front of me, and I panicked.
Bang! My trembling finger had clamped down on the .45’s trigger and cannoned off a silver bullet in Armand’s direction.
I might not have killed him, but maybe at that moment he wished he was dead.
“Ahhhh!” He clutched his buttocks with both hands, crying out, “The bitch shot me right up the ass! Fuck, it hurts!!”
Dagger leapt through the smoke and flames, his claws and the fur on his partially shifted arms still prominent. He yowled ananimalistic laugh and kicked Armand hard in the ass, causing him to shriek.
He grabbed my hand, careful not to nick me with his razor claws, smelling of leather and a primal musk. “Good shot, Cowgirl.”
The roof was creaking, the old beams, some already ablaze, were being wrenched back and forth. As if by unseen hands.
I thrust an arm toward the swaying ceiling. “Conrad’s up there. We need to get out!”
Dagger scooped me up like I was a puff of cotton candy, cradling me against his chest with his furry arms. My teeth clacked together as he raced for the open door.
The house groaned like a dying beast, and I glanced up just as the main support beam splintered and swung down like a blazing pendulum.
My scream was drowned in the cacophony of ripping struts and crumbling shingles… and then I was flying, tossed bodily through the door by Dagger.
I hit the scant grass in a sprawl and my head bounced off the ground. The world quaked as the roof came down behind me. Everything spun as I rolled onto my belly, and through my vignetting vision, I saw Dagger among the pillars of flame, stretched halfway out the door, his legs crushed by a fallen beam, burning and crying out in agony.
