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“I’ll talk to you about it later.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” A suspicion struck him. “You seein’ dead people again? Around me?”
Ryon’s grim silence was answer enough.
“Who are they?” Rowan demanded, startled.
“Seriously, fuck that shit. Tell ’em to buzz off.”
Ryon just sighed and turned his gaze out the open side of the Huey. “Doesn’t work that way. Wish it did.” He refused to say more, and silence descended between the three of them.
“Go on, fly away,” Micah hissed to the spirits or whatever was hovering near him. Of course, he couldn’t sense them, but that didn’t mean it bothered him any less. Ryon knew they were there, and that was good enough evidence for him. What the fuck did they want?
Ryon gave a negative shake of his head to indicate that hadn’t worked to send away the spirits, and went back to watching the forest whiz past below them.
Well, Micah’s friend didn’t seem too concerned, so apparently there was no immediate danger. Putting it out of his mind for now, he closed his eyes and mentally prepared himself for the coming battle.
Demons were big bastards. Shut out their voices. Get underneath them. Avoid sharp objects. Go for a quick kill, head and heart. Easy. Like taking a Sunday stroll.
Okay, maybe not that simple. But Micah couldn’t deny he was looking forward to the fight. Anticipation began to pump through him the closer they got to their destination, and by the time the Hueys landed in a meadow surrounded by mountains, his mind was totally focused on the job.
As soon as they were clear to move around, his sister and John bailed from the helicopter without looking back. With their particular Psy gifts—Rowan was a Dreamwalker and Hammer a Tracer—they would fight better in human form, with weapons, like when they had been in law enforcement. Kalen’s panther was lethal, but his skills as a Sorcerer were essential in a battle against such a formidable enemy, so he remained dressed in his dark jeans and long leather duster. Micah, Nick, and Aric shed their clothes quickly and shifted into their wolf forms.
Nick, a large white wolf, led them about a hundred yards from the helicopters. Jaxon Law, RetroCog/Timebender/gray wolf and the Pack’s second in command, strode quickly to the head of the group in human form to stand with Nick and John. Jax was an imposing figure, tall and muscular with short black hair and a neat goatee. He was a son of a bitch in a fight, too, no matter what form he chose.
“Listen up,”
Jax called out. Then he pointed over the meadow to the north. “The homestead is just over the rise, about a mile and a half away. Unless the demons are stone deaf, they heard the copters, which means we need to strike fast. Hopefully the noise distracted them and bought the family some time, but that and landing closer meant sacrificing the element of surprise. Hit those fuckers fast and hard! Let’s go!”
Handing the enemy advance warning of your arrival? Not optimal. But sometimes there was no help for it, and you did what you had to do. They took off, their pace quickly eating up the distance. About a half mile from the place, the team’s human sniper, A. J. Stone, set up on a ridge. It was always damned comforting to know A.J. was out there, ready to pick off the enemy sneaking up behind them.
As they raced down the slope, a large, sprawling log cabin came into view. Nestled in the hills, surrounded by trees with the mountains rising majestically around it, the scene should’ve been breathtaking.
But to the terrified family inside, their haven had become a nightmare. Their screams could be heard clearly through the broken windows and bashed-in front door, even if Micah hadn’t possessed a wolf shifter’s enhanced hearing.
Pouring on the speed, Nick cleared the threshold of the front door ahead of them, Micah right behind him. The sight that greeted them should’ve terrified him, but there was no time to be afraid.
The demon standing in the living room splintering the sofa like a matchstick whirled to face them, a grin full of yellowed teeth spreading across its broad gray face. It took up the whole space at nearly seven feet tall, leathery wings spanning some twenty feet wide. Long, razor-sharp claws tipped the big, almost-humanlike hands and feet, and its chest was broad.
“Greetings, fools,” it said pleasantly. Then it tossed the sofa aside and launched itself at Nick. The fight was on.
More demons materialized seemingly from nowhere, and the team had all they could handle.
“Micah, look out!”
John’s shout came just in time to keep Micah from losing his head. Turning, he ducked, avoiding the demon’s claws but losing a tuft of fur in the process. Shit, that was close!
Snarling, Micah rushed the creature, going straight for the throat. The demon wasn’t going down so easily, however. Though it stumbled backward, it managed to grab him and fling his body across the room and into the wall. He hit hard enough to crack the plaster, which rained on him as he fell to the floor. Stunned for a moment, he shook himself off and went in for round two.
On this second charge, he changed tactics. The demon was prepared for him to jump again and go for the throat. Instead, he hurtled himself at the creature’s legs. In a flash, he sank his fangs into the vulnerable thigh muscle—and ripped out the demon’s hamstring. Screeching in pain, the bastard fell hard, writhing.
Got you now, fucker. Micah swiftly tore out its throat, and as the demon gurgled helplessly, Micah shifted into his half-man, half-wolf form. Then he used his own sharp claws like knives, plunging them into the creature’s chest and ripping out its black heart. The beast died, eyes glazing, surprise still etched on its ugly mug.
He didn’t get to savor his victory. A hard blow took him in the side, and he rolled a few feet. A new demon attacked, and he used the hamstringing method again, with success. Dispatched the enemy. And again, on another. The Pack was winning the battle, and hopefully they’d find the family—who’d stopped screaming—alive, safe, and barricaded in the basement.
Just as he finished taking the heart of another demon beneath him, Rowan screamed from somewhere behind him. “Micah!”
Still in half-form, he turned—
