sickening crack of bone. He turned with his massive forepaw raised, knocking another man into the bushes.
Pen jumped to her feet. With knives in hand, she first took out the man in the bushes. Glad she checked. He’d been stunned but not dead.
She crept into the fray, behind a man who took aim at the lion annihilating his cohorts. Bullets would warn the truck ahead. And bullets meant the possibility of harm coming to Tru.
Still glowing with the afterbuzz of her spell, she felt no fear. Simply jammed her knife between the vertebrae at the base of his neck. He collapsed into a paralyzed heap. From that vantage, creeping in behind while Tru took them head-on, she felled another man.
But not before he opened fire.
She couldn’t worry about that now, only be thankful that none of the bullets hit Tru. The guard spotted her approach before she could attack. He spun, using the butt of his rifle to knock the air from her stomach. Pen doubled over. Spots shimmered in her eyes, but she adjusted her grip on both knives. The bastard made the mistake she’d known he would. Rather than keep beating with the blunt end, he insisted on making it messy.
He flipped the gun. Or attempted to.
Pen didn’t let him get that far. She surged up from below, using her shorter stature against him. Forget the armor on his chest—she went for the femoral artery in his thigh. And for his groin, because he’d put her in a bad mood.
The man sagged on a scream, hands clasping his crotch. Pen kicked the rifle away. She ran to the driver, whose eyes she’d only seen with her amplified sight. Now she stared at him, face-to-face. Green eyes. Like moss. But his mind was still fogged from the spell. He simply sat there, both hands on the wheel, the engine idling in neutral.
Good. Just as she’d intended. Precise and intended only for her chosen target.
No torture for this one. She hauled him out to the rough, weed-eaten blacktop and cut his throat.
By the time she looked over the mess, she realized the quiet. All clear.
Tru, in lion form and crackling with that beautiful golden aura, circled the truck. He nosed every corpse, apparently double-checking. The tufted tip of his tail twitched as he walked. Long bunches of muscle flexed beneath his pale yellow pelt. A spectacular mane framed that lion face.
But he was in there. Their gazes locked and Pen felt it.
“Adrian, you can come out now,” she called, not looking away from Tru. Later she’d be able to justify having Adrian there. She was talking to the boy, not an animal. But even then she knew that wasn’t the case. “Shots were fired. They’ll send a team to investigate. We’re turning the truck around and heading back to that last road, then turning east. We’ll head to the coast, away from O’Malley’s shipments.”
“How much gas does it have?” Adrian asked.
A quick check revealed a busted instrument panel. “No telling. But we need to get away from here. Gather our stuff. I’ll get these corpses off the road.”
She could kill. But the memory of running over dead bodies, years ago, made her want to vomit. Her stomach hurt enough already from that rifle butt.
The lion made a low noise. She turned to watch in fascination as his massive serrated tongue flicked out, licking his jowls clean of blood.
“You’ll come find us, yes?”
He didn’t answer. Might not have, even if he’d been able. The lion strolled out into the swamp, his tail still flicking. Pen only hoped he’d bring Tru back.
EIGHT
Tall grass. Trees. They had names, but he couldn’t remember them. It always took a while to lock into his new range of vision, greater in the periphery. Fewer colors. Better detection of noise, smell, movement. His ears pricked up, as he scented something delicious in the distance.
Salt tinged the air. Beneath it, animal musk. It was clean here. Mostly. Few humans. That made stalking easier.
Crushed grass led him onward. He knew the hoofprints and the trace of
Pen jumped to her feet. With knives in hand, she first took out the man in the bushes. Glad she checked. He’d been stunned but not dead.
She crept into the fray, behind a man who took aim at the lion annihilating his cohorts. Bullets would warn the truck ahead. And bullets meant the possibility of harm coming to Tru.
Still glowing with the afterbuzz of her spell, she felt no fear. Simply jammed her knife between the vertebrae at the base of his neck. He collapsed into a paralyzed heap. From that vantage, creeping in behind while Tru took them head-on, she felled another man.
But not before he opened fire.
She couldn’t worry about that now, only be thankful that none of the bullets hit Tru. The guard spotted her approach before she could attack. He spun, using the butt of his rifle to knock the air from her stomach. Pen doubled over. Spots shimmered in her eyes, but she adjusted her grip on both knives. The bastard made the mistake she’d known he would. Rather than keep beating with the blunt end, he insisted on making it messy.
He flipped the gun. Or attempted to.
Pen didn’t let him get that far. She surged up from below, using her shorter stature against him. Forget the armor on his chest—she went for the femoral artery in his thigh. And for his groin, because he’d put her in a bad mood.
The man sagged on a scream, hands clasping his crotch. Pen kicked the rifle away. She ran to the driver, whose eyes she’d only seen with her amplified sight. Now she stared at him, face-to-face. Green eyes. Like moss. But his mind was still fogged from the spell. He simply sat there, both hands on the wheel, the engine idling in neutral.
Good. Just as she’d intended. Precise and intended only for her chosen target.
No torture for this one. She hauled him out to the rough, weed-eaten blacktop and cut his throat.
By the time she looked over the mess, she realized the quiet. All clear.
Tru, in lion form and crackling with that beautiful golden aura, circled the truck. He nosed every corpse, apparently double-checking. The tufted tip of his tail twitched as he walked. Long bunches of muscle flexed beneath his pale yellow pelt. A spectacular mane framed that lion face.
But he was in there. Their gazes locked and Pen felt it.
“Adrian, you can come out now,” she called, not looking away from Tru. Later she’d be able to justify having Adrian there. She was talking to the boy, not an animal. But even then she knew that wasn’t the case. “Shots were fired. They’ll send a team to investigate. We’re turning the truck around and heading back to that last road, then turning east. We’ll head to the coast, away from O’Malley’s shipments.”
“How much gas does it have?” Adrian asked.
A quick check revealed a busted instrument panel. “No telling. But we need to get away from here. Gather our stuff. I’ll get these corpses off the road.”
She could kill. But the memory of running over dead bodies, years ago, made her want to vomit. Her stomach hurt enough already from that rifle butt.
The lion made a low noise. She turned to watch in fascination as his massive serrated tongue flicked out, licking his jowls clean of blood.
“You’ll come find us, yes?”
He didn’t answer. Might not have, even if he’d been able. The lion strolled out into the swamp, his tail still flicking. Pen only hoped he’d bring Tru back.
EIGHT
Tall grass. Trees. They had names, but he couldn’t remember them. It always took a while to lock into his new range of vision, greater in the periphery. Fewer colors. Better detection of noise, smell, movement. His ears pricked up, as he scented something delicious in the distance.
Salt tinged the air. Beneath it, animal musk. It was clean here. Mostly. Few humans. That made stalking easier.
Crushed grass led him onward. He knew the hoofprints and the trace of
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