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Something had hit her and kept going, running right over the top of her.
Wheezing, she forced her lungs to expand and stared up at… something. She squinted through black spots. Slices of light refracted through the shards. The framework came into focus. A chandelier, light bouncing off hundreds of crystals, and it finally struck her.
The house on Isadore Street.
She was inside the old Victorian she now owned. Strange enough to be given property, but even more surprising was the fact she wasn’t in it alone.
Drawing quick, short breaths, she forced her ribcage to expand. Blistering pain spiked behind her breastbone, then streaked around to her back. Her entire torso felt bruised. A broken bone or two wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, given the size of the thing that collided with her. She didn’t know exactly, couldn’t check until she caught her breath, but…
She swore fur smacked her in the face as the thing thundered by.
A snarl seethed up the corridor.
Truly coughed as more air seeped into her lungs.
Another growl. Definitely an animal. Not of the cute, cuddly variety either. By the sounds of it, more like the ravenous, probably-going-to-gut her kind.
Tasting bile in her mouth, she turned onto her side and looked up the corridor. Cloaked in shadows, a figure stood by the front door. Not a someone, asomething, and as she watched, horror pushed through the pain, tying a knot behind her breastbone, putting on pressure as the beast rose like a grizzly bear in the dim light. Hulking and predatory, it pushed from four feet onto two paws.
The stuff of nightmares, the monster was like nothing she’d ever seen. Smooth, blue skin streaked with red and white. A thick mane grew from its head, cascading over its shoulders. Six eyes, three on either side of a flat face, instead of the regular two. Seven long, lethal-looking claws tipped each paw. And a mouth full of sharp teeth.
Definitely not human. Also, not from planet Earth. Nothing normal about it. The thing smelled strange too. Its scent contradictory — a combination of freshly squeezed orange juice and ash.
Risking movement, she pressed her palm to the floor. Carpet fringe played between her fingers as she pushed to her feet. The air grew thick, almost stagnant as the beast stared at her. It bared razor-sharp canines. Muscles tense, anticipating attack, she prepared to flee, knowing —
“Door Master,” it hissed.
Another round of surprise hit her. “You can talk.”
The beast grinned at her and started to change shape.
Slack-jawed, she watched it shrink, beginning to transform into a man. Six eyes turned into two. Its long mane shortened into hair on a perfectly shaped human head. Two hooves became normal looking feet. Seven claws morphed into five fingers. All in the middle of her freaking foyer.
Stomping on a pair of boots, the thing turned to go.
A shiver swept through her, fear right on its heels.
Allowing it to leave wasn’t a good idea. How she understood that, Truly didn’t know. Nothing seemed real, or made sense right now. Not strange happenings in her house. Not the weird doors in her mind. And certainly not the creature about to walk out her front door. But with an instinct born of unproved certainty, she knew she couldn’t let it go. She must stop it. The instant the beast escaped her house, disaster would follow, the wave of destruction so devastating, the city she loved would never be the same.
7
EIGHT WARRIORS DOWN
Fists raised, body loose, Westvane pivoted to avoid another punch. Short grass churned beneath his boot soles. The smell of damp dirt rose as he dodged, then ducked. The heavy fist whiffed over his head. With a low snarl, he spun in the opposite direction and unleashed his own fists.
His knuckles slammed into his attacker’s side.
Bone cracked.
Westvane hit him again, each movement precise, striking without mercy. He felt flesh cave beneath his fist. Heard ribs splinter. Felt the corresponding scream in his gut as jagged shards punched through guard’s skin, sawing into open air.
Wings bent, brown wings askew, the warrior fell to his knees.
A second, third, and fourth guard attacked.
Joy spilled through Westvane as he dodged another uppercut. The circle around him tightened. Anckar stood back while the others moved forward. Meeting his gaze over the other guards’ heads, Westvane smiled at the bastard as he tussled with the others. Toying with them. Delivering pain with each strike. Keeping his Assenta claws sheathed, each blow just short of lethal.
No sense gutting the males before he knew why Lyonesse sent them.
