Millions of grains of sand bit into him in a million pinpricks of scalding heat and he let out a loud roar. He heard a wild squeal shatter the quiet of the beach, felt the scream of furious pain deep in his soul. Before his mind could register the unreal fact his shoulder was sinking into a writhing, animated mass of sand grains, he burst through it, like a desperate man barging through a living dust storm.
He stumbled to a halt on the other side, spinning about to stare at the creature, disbelief and dismay making his gut churn.
It was reforming. Bigger. Wider. Almost half the size of the patrol tower, blocking out the sun’s infant rays, shrouding him in its cold shadow. Its head swiveled toward him, sightless eyes drilling into him with terrifying intent, its mouth stretching wide to reveal teeth more jagged and pointed than before.
Patrick swallowed. “Oh, fuck.”
The creature lunged at him, a hideous pillar of living sand and sea. It smashed into him, its fingers sinking into his chest and hip as it drove him backward.
He lost his footing, his heel dropping into a hollow in the beach, and he stumbled, arms flailing in an attempt to keep his balance. If he fell he was done for. There was no way he could beat this thing on his back.
The creature roared, the deafening screech of triumph punching at Patrick’s ears. Yet even as he fought franticly with his traitorous feet, even as he grabbed at the thing’s arms, he knew the sound was only in his head.
Claws of sand tore at his chest, his hip, ripping into his flesh. The creature lowered its face to his, sand blasting his cheeks and forehead as it screeched again. It sank its talons deeper into his body and began to pull.
Fuck! It’s trying to tear me in two!
A surge of raw fury ripped through him. He glared up into the face of the sand monster, into the sunken pits of its eyes. “Fuck you, you bastard,” he growled, curling his fingers into its dense, writhing arms. “The beach is closed.”
An image exploded in his head—the creature detonating into a billion grains of sand, each one scattering through the air on a furious gust of wind. He drew on the power of that image. Let it fill his entire being, the way he let the feel of the surf fill him when he searched for a missing swimmer.
Cold calm flooded through him. Turned his fury to icy resolve.
He gazed at the creature, pictured his fist stabbing into its mammoth chest, saw it exploding into a feeble, pathetic puff of individual sand grains. Saw each and every one of those grains scatter to the winds.
He stared at the creature…
And lashed out with his mind.
A piercing wail burst from the thing’s mouth. It reeled back, arms flailing, mouth gaping in obvious pain. A violent shudder wracked through its impossible body before, in the space of a heartbeat, it shattered, each grain of its formation whipping away on a sudden coastal gust.
Gone. Just like that.
Patrick dropped to his knees, sucking in breath after breath, his whole body on fire. Trickles of blood painted crimson lines over his skin, blending with his sweat. He stared at the ground, struggling to breathe. Jesus. Had that really happened? Had he really just fought a friggen’ sand monster?
“How the hell did you do that?”
The shocked male voice snapped Patrick’s head up. Throat tight, blood roaring, he gazed at his brother standing on the sand beside the patrol tower. Directly in the bright dawn sunlight.
With Death standing right beside him.
Fred gaped at Patrick, not entirely convinced she’d actually seen what her eyes told her she had. Had he just destroyed a nikor ? Had he? And if he had, with what?
All about him, swirling about on the suddenly violent wind, were the remains of the aqueous demon, the tiny particles of sand and even tinier particles of seawater scattering in the turbulent air. Aqueous demons were impossible to kill in the water and damn nigh impossible to kill on land. As long as they were close to
He stumbled to a halt on the other side, spinning about to stare at the creature, disbelief and dismay making his gut churn.
It was reforming. Bigger. Wider. Almost half the size of the patrol tower, blocking out the sun’s infant rays, shrouding him in its cold shadow. Its head swiveled toward him, sightless eyes drilling into him with terrifying intent, its mouth stretching wide to reveal teeth more jagged and pointed than before.
Patrick swallowed. “Oh, fuck.”
The creature lunged at him, a hideous pillar of living sand and sea. It smashed into him, its fingers sinking into his chest and hip as it drove him backward.
He lost his footing, his heel dropping into a hollow in the beach, and he stumbled, arms flailing in an attempt to keep his balance. If he fell he was done for. There was no way he could beat this thing on his back.
The creature roared, the deafening screech of triumph punching at Patrick’s ears. Yet even as he fought franticly with his traitorous feet, even as he grabbed at the thing’s arms, he knew the sound was only in his head.
Claws of sand tore at his chest, his hip, ripping into his flesh. The creature lowered its face to his, sand blasting his cheeks and forehead as it screeched again. It sank its talons deeper into his body and began to pull.
Fuck! It’s trying to tear me in two!
A surge of raw fury ripped through him. He glared up into the face of the sand monster, into the sunken pits of its eyes. “Fuck you, you bastard,” he growled, curling his fingers into its dense, writhing arms. “The beach is closed.”
An image exploded in his head—the creature detonating into a billion grains of sand, each one scattering through the air on a furious gust of wind. He drew on the power of that image. Let it fill his entire being, the way he let the feel of the surf fill him when he searched for a missing swimmer.
Cold calm flooded through him. Turned his fury to icy resolve.
He gazed at the creature, pictured his fist stabbing into its mammoth chest, saw it exploding into a feeble, pathetic puff of individual sand grains. Saw each and every one of those grains scatter to the winds.
He stared at the creature…
And lashed out with his mind.
A piercing wail burst from the thing’s mouth. It reeled back, arms flailing, mouth gaping in obvious pain. A violent shudder wracked through its impossible body before, in the space of a heartbeat, it shattered, each grain of its formation whipping away on a sudden coastal gust.
Gone. Just like that.
Patrick dropped to his knees, sucking in breath after breath, his whole body on fire. Trickles of blood painted crimson lines over his skin, blending with his sweat. He stared at the ground, struggling to breathe. Jesus. Had that really happened? Had he really just fought a friggen’ sand monster?
“How the hell did you do that?”
The shocked male voice snapped Patrick’s head up. Throat tight, blood roaring, he gazed at his brother standing on the sand beside the patrol tower. Directly in the bright dawn sunlight.
With Death standing right beside him.
Fred gaped at Patrick, not entirely convinced she’d actually seen what her eyes told her she had. Had he just destroyed a nikor ? Had he? And if he had, with what?
All about him, swirling about on the suddenly violent wind, were the remains of the aqueous demon, the tiny particles of sand and even tinier particles of seawater scattering in the turbulent air. Aqueous demons were impossible to kill in the water and damn nigh impossible to kill on land. As long as they were close to
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