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If only we’d had more time to prepare. We have an entire arsenal back at the office.
I peer over my shoulder at the main trunk of the Bone Man.
It sways, unable to move forward with both legs cut off, and its right arm dangles by two thick pieces of wood. It seems weaker without its bony appendages, its movements slower.
As I turn back, a thick root suddenly shoots toward Flint, and in a split second, Sharpe shoves him out of harm’s way. The root strikes Sharpe instead, sending him flying.
He lands hard on his shoulder, releasing a sharp cry of pain as he skids across the ground.
“Sharpe!” I race toward him.
Mayn lets out a shout of warning, and I turn back in time to see another root shooting toward Flint.
The siren darts forward, her sword swinging, and the root crashes lifelessly to the ground.
Trusting her to keep him protected, I run to Sharpe’s side.
I collapse my batons and return them to my belt before dropping to my knees beside him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He sits up, clutching his left arm, which dangles lower than it should. “Keep slicing that thing to bits.”
“You’re hurt.” I help him to his feet. “Let’s get you back with the group.”
Sharpe struggles to take off his belt. “Help me bind my arm to my side for now.”
I push his hand away and take off his belt, looping it around his waist higher up and cinching his arm in place.
He grunts with pain but nods in approval before striding back to his people, reclaiming his gun from the ground along the way.
We return to his officers, and without hesitation, he returns to firing at the monster.
Working together, we continue to dismantle the Bone Man one chunk at a time. Magic bullets crackle with energy as they strike, hook and sword chip away, magical grenades blast, and fire blazes. Our combined efforts wear down the monster’s defenses, breaking off its arms.
O’Hara and Troy drag the pieces over, and Marc, his brown hair matted with sweat, sets the pieces on fire, turning them to ash. The acrid scent of burning bones and wood fills the air.
With only the trunk remaining, I race forward, Mayn leaving the others to join me, and together we strike at the face in the trunk, obliterating it.
The monster thrashes, roots rising from the ground to swat at us, but I beat them back and Mayn slices them to pieces. Then Marc comes forward, bringing flames that eat into the wound we created.
The fiery blaze spreads rapidly, consuming the creature from within. The Bone Man thrashes and writhes in its death throes, but there’s no escape as its monstrous form is reduced to ash and cinders.
We stand panting from exertion, covered in soot and sweat, as the sun dips lower on the horizon, casting long shadows over the scene of our hard-fought victory.
While much of the Bone Yard made it out of the battle unscathed, the same cannot be said for the street, which the roots destroyed. Not to mention the enormous crater left at the center where the Bone Man had pulled itself free of the earth.
It’s not as bad as it could have been, though.
Sharpe strides over to us, his expression a mix of relief and pain. “Is it really dead?”
Mayn’s black brows pinch together. “So it would seem.”
Flint joins us. “The souls it held captive were released with its death. The ones who can, will cross through the veil eventually, though we might get more calls about hauntings until then. Nickodemus’s people should be reborn and return to him, along with the other demons killed by it.”
Too bad the same can’t be said for all the humans and witchblood the monster killed.
Marc wipes ash from his face, leaving black streaks behind. “Not that I’m complaining, but I thought this would be harder. Why’d the High Court deem this a bad enough monster to lock up in the Between? It wasn’tthathard to kill.”
“It is peculiar,” Mayn agrees, her brows still pinched with concern. “The stories painted it as much larger.”
