instant, Gwen’s perception shifted so dramatically
that it shook her like a crack of thunder. It was as if every second were
divided into a hundred individual movie frames. Jenny’s razor-sharp claws
curled as she prepared to strike. Thick saliva dripped from her long, pointed
teeth. Her green eyes were illuminated by the moonlight and seemed to glow from
within.
Gwen repositioned the amulet so one long side of the
triangle was flat against her palm. She pressed her fingertips tightly against
the silver until the point extended just beyond the heel of her hand. With an
animalistic growl, she thrust forward and buried the tip deep into one flashing
emerald iris.
Hot fluid spurted from Jenny’s eye socket and sprayed Gwen’s
bruised wrist. The beast wailed and flung herself onto the cold ground. While
the screeching werewolf clawed at her face, Gwen scrambled on all fours toward
the cave entrance, still clutching the gore-covered amulet.
If you’re in the confines of the cave—and you’re wearing
the necklace—nothing can harm you .
Pain radiated from so many individual points, it was as if
Gwen’s entire body throbbed with each beat of her heart. Fighting to remain
conscious and keep moving forward, Gwen reached out for the bush and yanked
aside low branch. Summoning up the last of her strength, she stretched out her
arm.
The amulet was within an inch of the entrance to the sacred
cave when a fresh agony ripped through her body. Jenny was upon her and had
sunk her vicious fangs into Gwen’s calf. Gwen screamed as the flesh was torn
from her leg.
Jenny took another bite—this time digging into Gwen’s
hamstring—and began yanking her prey away from the cave.
This is how I’m going to die, Gwen thought. As soon
as the notion entered her mind, she amended it. If this is how she was
going to die, she was going to do everything in her power to take that hippie
bitch down with her.
Gwen twisted and struck out with the amulet but couldn’t
find her mark. The strength seemed to drain from her body with every swing.
Believing she had only one shot left before she passed out, Gwen dug deep and
pulled back her arm for a final strike. Before she could bring down her hand,
Jenny repositioned herself and bit hard on Gwen’s inner thigh.
The gush of blood was unmistakable. Gwen knew her femoral
artery had been punctured and it was only a matter of time before she bled to
death. As the life force drained from Gwen, her mouth went dry. She went limp
as Jenny dragged her toward the tree line.
The last thing Gwen registered before she slipped into
unconsciousness was the flash of velvety golden-brown fur and the roar of the
big cat as he burst from the underbrush and pulled the werewolf from her body.
Chapter Eight
Alex knotted the last stitch in Gwen’s leg then tossed his
bloody gloves into the trashcan. He had worked throughout the night and the
first weak rays of dawn were lightening the sky.
Sergei had been pacing out in the vet clinic hall, muttering
in Russian and running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. He wore
borrowed hospital scrubs and the hem of the pants barely covered the giant’s
calves. On each pass by the door, he’d glanced at the table where Gwen lay.
While Alex had sutured her wounds Tommy Longtree and
Jeremiah Morgan had employed every remedy their individual traditions afforded.
The werewolf shaman had circled the operating room, loudly reciting an
incantation that sounded like Latin. He would pause occasionally to draw herbs
from his pockets and lay them on Gwen’s chest.
Tommy sat on a rolling stool at the head of the table
hunched over the unconscious human consort with a palm flattened against each
of Gwen’s temples. His eyes were closed and he was muttering a prayer so softly
that Alex couldn’t make out the words.
Alex took a deep breath to clear away the crushing fatigue.
He added a dose of antibiotics to Gwen’s IV, arched his back to work out the
knots, then
that it shook her like a crack of thunder. It was as if every second were
divided into a hundred individual movie frames. Jenny’s razor-sharp claws
curled as she prepared to strike. Thick saliva dripped from her long, pointed
teeth. Her green eyes were illuminated by the moonlight and seemed to glow from
within.
Gwen repositioned the amulet so one long side of the
triangle was flat against her palm. She pressed her fingertips tightly against
the silver until the point extended just beyond the heel of her hand. With an
animalistic growl, she thrust forward and buried the tip deep into one flashing
emerald iris.
Hot fluid spurted from Jenny’s eye socket and sprayed Gwen’s
bruised wrist. The beast wailed and flung herself onto the cold ground. While
the screeching werewolf clawed at her face, Gwen scrambled on all fours toward
the cave entrance, still clutching the gore-covered amulet.
If you’re in the confines of the cave—and you’re wearing
the necklace—nothing can harm you .
Pain radiated from so many individual points, it was as if
Gwen’s entire body throbbed with each beat of her heart. Fighting to remain
conscious and keep moving forward, Gwen reached out for the bush and yanked
aside low branch. Summoning up the last of her strength, she stretched out her
arm.
The amulet was within an inch of the entrance to the sacred
cave when a fresh agony ripped through her body. Jenny was upon her and had
sunk her vicious fangs into Gwen’s calf. Gwen screamed as the flesh was torn
from her leg.
Jenny took another bite—this time digging into Gwen’s
hamstring—and began yanking her prey away from the cave.
This is how I’m going to die, Gwen thought. As soon
as the notion entered her mind, she amended it. If this is how she was
going to die, she was going to do everything in her power to take that hippie
bitch down with her.
Gwen twisted and struck out with the amulet but couldn’t
find her mark. The strength seemed to drain from her body with every swing.
Believing she had only one shot left before she passed out, Gwen dug deep and
pulled back her arm for a final strike. Before she could bring down her hand,
Jenny repositioned herself and bit hard on Gwen’s inner thigh.
The gush of blood was unmistakable. Gwen knew her femoral
artery had been punctured and it was only a matter of time before she bled to
death. As the life force drained from Gwen, her mouth went dry. She went limp
as Jenny dragged her toward the tree line.
The last thing Gwen registered before she slipped into
unconsciousness was the flash of velvety golden-brown fur and the roar of the
big cat as he burst from the underbrush and pulled the werewolf from her body.
Chapter Eight
Alex knotted the last stitch in Gwen’s leg then tossed his
bloody gloves into the trashcan. He had worked throughout the night and the
first weak rays of dawn were lightening the sky.
Sergei had been pacing out in the vet clinic hall, muttering
in Russian and running his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. He wore
borrowed hospital scrubs and the hem of the pants barely covered the giant’s
calves. On each pass by the door, he’d glanced at the table where Gwen lay.
While Alex had sutured her wounds Tommy Longtree and
Jeremiah Morgan had employed every remedy their individual traditions afforded.
The werewolf shaman had circled the operating room, loudly reciting an
incantation that sounded like Latin. He would pause occasionally to draw herbs
from his pockets and lay them on Gwen’s chest.
Tommy sat on a rolling stool at the head of the table
hunched over the unconscious human consort with a palm flattened against each
of Gwen’s temples. His eyes were closed and he was muttering a prayer so softly
that Alex couldn’t make out the words.
Alex took a deep breath to clear away the crushing fatigue.
He added a dose of antibiotics to Gwen’s IV, arched his back to work out the
knots, then
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