and slammed the vial onto the great beast ’s head as hard as I could. The tiny jar broke and quicksilver spread. There was a roar of pain and I was hit hard enough to send me flying into a table, over it, and into a chair.
My body scream ed in pain and my head exploded, making me see stars as the back of it smashed into a crushed laptop.
Struggling to all fours, head swimming and breath coming in ragged gasps, I ran my hand over the back of my head but didn’t find blood. Just a lump that throbbed under my touch. It would be much larger before the night was over.
I staggered upright and Frank was there to help me to my feet.
“Not bad for an old man,” he said in that pedantic voice with its slow measured pace. He kept one of his arms close to his side and rubbed at his elbow.
“Who you calling old?”
“I just call them like I see them.” Then Frank copied me by falling into a chair.
Andrews slid forward, her long jacket sweeping the floor . In a way, she reminded me of some action hero. Well, an action hero that would be filling out paperwork all night.
The werewolf thrashed on the floor, smoke rising from its head where the deadly fluid had s tuck. I didn’t want to kill him. I really didn’t. I just wanted to secure him, ask a few questions, maybe make a formal request for the council to step in and investigate the case.
He was half man shaped now, pale legs kicking as the quick silver ate into his brain. Red and frothy blood tinged with grey spilled onto the floor.
Its eyes fixed on mine, one blue and one a dull black. Some intelligence remained behind those eyes when it spoke words that chilled me to the bone.
“ Phineasssssss.” And then it coughed blood from its half snout, half nose.
I reeled back in shock. Again he said my name and it surprised the hell out of me. How could he know me, let alone know I would be hunting him? Had he planned to kill me?
The life faded from the beast’s eyes and I sat back on my feet, crouching beside the guy. His features were unfamiliar to me. He had blue eyes, but the irises were barely visible as his pupils dilated in death. Strange to see such dark eyes on a changer. Very expressive, which would give me something to think about when I hunted down the bastard that sent him after me.
T he act of changing really does channel the person into the beast they become. Frank, for instance was a very thin, wiry guy. He was also immensely strong, but carried himself with a gait I would call almost feminine. But not to his face, since I was fond of my nose and didn’t like the idea of getting punched in it.
The wolf man had broad shoulders, long arms, and a chiseled chest. He had to have spent years in the gym to maintain such a look. Nearly every inch of his body was covered in dark hair.
His face was contorted in pain and most of the top of his head was gone. Melted by the quicksilver concoction I had smashed there. I rubbed my hand on the side of my robe.
He was still warm, and I almost cried out when I touched him. Hate radiated from him like a furnace. Whatever he had been in life was gone, nearly sucked into the animalistic need that had consumed his existence.
Andrews stepped to my side and started to say something. She had the barrel of her gun pointed at the man and I motioned for him, a gesture that hopefully conveyed my sentiment that “We couldn’t make him any deader.”
“You okay?” she asked with genuine concern. I suppose I looked a mess.
“Yeah ... no. Give me a moment.”
I hurt. Every inch of my body felt like I’d been put through a ringer. My head was the worst, from where the back of my neck had impacted with a chair. Bruises would mark my back and I would have to salve the old wounds where the cruel metal pentagram bit into my chest. It was not as constricted now, since the spell had worn off.
Andrews stepped back, long coat swirling around her shoes, dropping bits of dust and clumps of crap from our late night tour of the
My body scream ed in pain and my head exploded, making me see stars as the back of it smashed into a crushed laptop.
Struggling to all fours, head swimming and breath coming in ragged gasps, I ran my hand over the back of my head but didn’t find blood. Just a lump that throbbed under my touch. It would be much larger before the night was over.
I staggered upright and Frank was there to help me to my feet.
“Not bad for an old man,” he said in that pedantic voice with its slow measured pace. He kept one of his arms close to his side and rubbed at his elbow.
“Who you calling old?”
“I just call them like I see them.” Then Frank copied me by falling into a chair.
Andrews slid forward, her long jacket sweeping the floor . In a way, she reminded me of some action hero. Well, an action hero that would be filling out paperwork all night.
The werewolf thrashed on the floor, smoke rising from its head where the deadly fluid had s tuck. I didn’t want to kill him. I really didn’t. I just wanted to secure him, ask a few questions, maybe make a formal request for the council to step in and investigate the case.
He was half man shaped now, pale legs kicking as the quick silver ate into his brain. Red and frothy blood tinged with grey spilled onto the floor.
Its eyes fixed on mine, one blue and one a dull black. Some intelligence remained behind those eyes when it spoke words that chilled me to the bone.
“ Phineasssssss.” And then it coughed blood from its half snout, half nose.
I reeled back in shock. Again he said my name and it surprised the hell out of me. How could he know me, let alone know I would be hunting him? Had he planned to kill me?
The life faded from the beast’s eyes and I sat back on my feet, crouching beside the guy. His features were unfamiliar to me. He had blue eyes, but the irises were barely visible as his pupils dilated in death. Strange to see such dark eyes on a changer. Very expressive, which would give me something to think about when I hunted down the bastard that sent him after me.
T he act of changing really does channel the person into the beast they become. Frank, for instance was a very thin, wiry guy. He was also immensely strong, but carried himself with a gait I would call almost feminine. But not to his face, since I was fond of my nose and didn’t like the idea of getting punched in it.
The wolf man had broad shoulders, long arms, and a chiseled chest. He had to have spent years in the gym to maintain such a look. Nearly every inch of his body was covered in dark hair.
His face was contorted in pain and most of the top of his head was gone. Melted by the quicksilver concoction I had smashed there. I rubbed my hand on the side of my robe.
He was still warm, and I almost cried out when I touched him. Hate radiated from him like a furnace. Whatever he had been in life was gone, nearly sucked into the animalistic need that had consumed his existence.
Andrews stepped to my side and started to say something. She had the barrel of her gun pointed at the man and I motioned for him, a gesture that hopefully conveyed my sentiment that “We couldn’t make him any deader.”
“You okay?” she asked with genuine concern. I suppose I looked a mess.
“Yeah ... no. Give me a moment.”
I hurt. Every inch of my body felt like I’d been put through a ringer. My head was the worst, from where the back of my neck had impacted with a chair. Bruises would mark my back and I would have to salve the old wounds where the cruel metal pentagram bit into my chest. It was not as constricted now, since the spell had worn off.
Andrews stepped back, long coat swirling around her shoes, dropping bits of dust and clumps of crap from our late night tour of the
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