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And it was followed by a howl so mournful, so terrible, it lifted the hair on the back of my neck.

Chapter 13

Willow

Warrick strode toward the exit, and I rushed after him.

Someone screamed again, outside this time, and we ran, tearing out to the front of the hotel—

Blood.

Oh goddess. So much blood.

Body parts, gore, scattered around the valet drop-off area.

I spun to Warrick. “Edric?”

The alpha’s jaw could have been carved in stone as he dipped his chin. “He took out a family of owl shifters last night, two of them just kids.”

“What?” I felt sick. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Fire danced in his eyes. “You ignored my calls.”

That’s exactly what I’d done. Idiot. “Right…sorry. So why did Edric come here. of all places?”

“Because I’m guessing there’s enough of him still in there, still fighting it,” Warrick said and yanked off his jacket. “He wants me to stop him.”

In seconds, Warrick was naked, uncaring of our audience, shadows and moonlight highlighting every muscle on his warrior’s body. Without another word, he shifted, exploding into a massive hellhound, red eyes, maw big enough to bite me in half, and thick shaggy black fur.

“Warrick…”

He took off across the beautifully manicured garden, through the golf course, and into Wolf Hill Woods, the north end of the Roxburgh State Forest that bordered the grounds.

Shit. Kicking off my shoes, I ran after him, ignoring Clayton calling my name.

As soon as I burst through the tree line and into the woods, the blade strapped to my thigh under my dress, heated, vibrating almost violently. Danger, this area was full of it. Yanking up my dress, I grabbed my blade and followed the howls echoing from deep in the forest.

For generations, this area had been controlled by wolf shifters. Then a few years back, when the last pack to reside here thinned, their numbers dropping far too low to defend it, demons overran the place, attacking relentlessly until the wolves finally left. The knights of Hell had always left this place to the wolves, since they didn’t want anyone encroaching on their territory, and with all the demon activity in the city for the knights to contend with, especially in recent times, this place had been seriously neglected. Thankfully, I’d heard rumblings of a new pack slowly reclaiming territory. I had yet to meet any of them, but I’d seen smoke coming from high on the craggy hill, the hill that gave this place its name.

There were no wolves around now, though.

I searched my surroundings as ice slid down my spine, growing more intense with every step I took.

There was evil here, only a short distance from hundreds of people, from a fancy hotel. I’d been around a lot of demons—sick, twisted individuals—but what I felt here was on another level. These were some seriously dark beings.

My blade grew hotter in my hand.

Something was about to happen. I turned in a slow circle.

A shriek so high it made my ears ring filled the woods a moment before a demon ran at me. My adrenaline spiked and my muscles tensed. I lifted my hands, manipulating the breeze moving through the trees, sending it at the demon in a short, hard blast, knocking it off its feet. It sprang back up and I let my blade fly. With a thud, it wedged into its eye. He kept coming.

Throwing out a hand, I called on the tree beside it. Roots punched up through the soil and coiled around the demon’s legs, and the decent-sized rock I fired at its head knocked it to its knees. The roots coiled tighter, pinning him down while he shrieked.

I strode forward, yanked my dagger from its eye socket, fisted its greasy hair, and buried the blade deep in its neck. Gritting my teeth, I dragged the blade around its throat, cutting through skin and tendons, hacking until I was able to remove its head and toss it aside. The demon turned to ash almost instantly, and I spun around, searching for more.

A vicious growl echoed through the forest, startling birds from the trees. Warrick. I rushed on, running toward him.

The sense of being watched prickled my skin. There were many creatures here, hiding, waiting for their chance. If they weren’t attacking, they were scavengers, the kind of demons who ate what was left of someone else’s kill.