over the roof of my car. He’d been through my desk, my filing cabinet. Had he seen my checkbook, all the bills in their neat folder?
He put his hands on the car roof, that damn smirk back on his face. “There’s a difference between looking fashionably disheveled and looking broke-ass poor, Roxie, and you are standing in the broke-ass line.”
“This is how you try to convince me to help you,” I said, incredulous. “By making fun of my clothes?”
His smirk faded and he turned his head into the breeze, as if tasting it. “You feel that?”
I rolled my eyes. “What, your spider sense tingling?”
He looked at me, his expression serious. “Isn’t yours?”
This was not more teasing. Quickly I ground and centered myself, opening my senses for whatever the night could tell me.
“Do you feel it?” he said quietly. I shushed him, closed my eyes. “You have to relax and…”
“If you tell me to reach out with my feelings I’m going to smack you,” I said. More like intuition, psychic perception, I didn’t really know what to call it. Sixth sense worked as good as any label, like reading auras, only on a non-visible wavelength. Whatever was out there in the night had a whole lot of power, and it was heading right for us.
“I don’t think we have time for a little slap and tickle,” he murmured as he looked around. “We need to get out of here.”
I opened my eyes, half expecting Delia to leap out of the darkness at any moment. I walked back to the driver’s side, fast. “You want anything out of your car, get it now.” He moved aside to let me unlock the door and climb in. I reached across to unlock the passenger door as he jogged around the car.
“That’s why I keep my backpack on me,” he said as he got in.
I pulled out of the parking space, headed for the street. Something blurred in front of the car and I swerved then hit the brakes as more shapes materialized out of the dark. “What are those, dogs?” But the creatures were bigger than dogs, as tall as deer, muscular with shaggy black fur and glowing red eyes. I counted four of them, then another trotted up. And another. Even with the windows rolled up I could hear them snarling.
When a thing has glowing red eyes, it’s probably not a good sign.
Blake swore viciously.
“What are those things?”
He fastened his seatbelt, a simple mundane act that inexplicably scared me. Voice shaking with an undertone of hysterical laughter, he answered, “Hellhounds, Roxie. She sent hellhounds on my trail.”
I would have laughed, too, except the hellhounds chose that moment to attack.
Tires leaving rubber in the parking lot, I stomped on the gas hard and prayed my poor little car could handle such abuse. The hellhound on the roof went tumbling, but the one on the hood stood its ground. Ropes of stringy saliva spattered across the windshield as it barked and snapped its jaws.
“Nasty,” I muttered as I hit the wiper blades. Both were quickly ripped off by the hellhound, tossed onto the street like a dog toy. “Now, I just bought those not a month ago!”
“Does this thing go any faster?” Blake said, head craned to watch the road behind us.
Even at this time of night there was some traffic. If any of those other cars noticed we were being chased by big nasty critters that looked like something from an old werewolf movie, one of them riding on the hood, would they call nine-one-one or chalk it up to one beer too many? A snorty giggle slipped out. Blake looked at me, his smirk demanding to know what I found so amusing.
So I told him. Pointing my index finger at the beast howling and scratching at the windshield, destroying what was left of the car’s paint job, I said, “Hellhound hood ornament.”
He shook his head in disbelief, a booming laugh rolling out of him as I slung the car into an empty Kroger parking lot. Cut a few brodies, slammed on the brakes, and the thing finally went flying off the hood. The lot connected to a
He put his hands on the car roof, that damn smirk back on his face. “There’s a difference between looking fashionably disheveled and looking broke-ass poor, Roxie, and you are standing in the broke-ass line.”
“This is how you try to convince me to help you,” I said, incredulous. “By making fun of my clothes?”
His smirk faded and he turned his head into the breeze, as if tasting it. “You feel that?”
I rolled my eyes. “What, your spider sense tingling?”
He looked at me, his expression serious. “Isn’t yours?”
This was not more teasing. Quickly I ground and centered myself, opening my senses for whatever the night could tell me.
“Do you feel it?” he said quietly. I shushed him, closed my eyes. “You have to relax and…”
“If you tell me to reach out with my feelings I’m going to smack you,” I said. More like intuition, psychic perception, I didn’t really know what to call it. Sixth sense worked as good as any label, like reading auras, only on a non-visible wavelength. Whatever was out there in the night had a whole lot of power, and it was heading right for us.
“I don’t think we have time for a little slap and tickle,” he murmured as he looked around. “We need to get out of here.”
I opened my eyes, half expecting Delia to leap out of the darkness at any moment. I walked back to the driver’s side, fast. “You want anything out of your car, get it now.” He moved aside to let me unlock the door and climb in. I reached across to unlock the passenger door as he jogged around the car.
“That’s why I keep my backpack on me,” he said as he got in.
I pulled out of the parking space, headed for the street. Something blurred in front of the car and I swerved then hit the brakes as more shapes materialized out of the dark. “What are those, dogs?” But the creatures were bigger than dogs, as tall as deer, muscular with shaggy black fur and glowing red eyes. I counted four of them, then another trotted up. And another. Even with the windows rolled up I could hear them snarling.
When a thing has glowing red eyes, it’s probably not a good sign.
Blake swore viciously.
“What are those things?”
He fastened his seatbelt, a simple mundane act that inexplicably scared me. Voice shaking with an undertone of hysterical laughter, he answered, “Hellhounds, Roxie. She sent hellhounds on my trail.”
I would have laughed, too, except the hellhounds chose that moment to attack.
Tires leaving rubber in the parking lot, I stomped on the gas hard and prayed my poor little car could handle such abuse. The hellhound on the roof went tumbling, but the one on the hood stood its ground. Ropes of stringy saliva spattered across the windshield as it barked and snapped its jaws.
“Nasty,” I muttered as I hit the wiper blades. Both were quickly ripped off by the hellhound, tossed onto the street like a dog toy. “Now, I just bought those not a month ago!”
“Does this thing go any faster?” Blake said, head craned to watch the road behind us.
Even at this time of night there was some traffic. If any of those other cars noticed we were being chased by big nasty critters that looked like something from an old werewolf movie, one of them riding on the hood, would they call nine-one-one or chalk it up to one beer too many? A snorty giggle slipped out. Blake looked at me, his smirk demanding to know what I found so amusing.
So I told him. Pointing my index finger at the beast howling and scratching at the windshield, destroying what was left of the car’s paint job, I said, “Hellhound hood ornament.”
He shook his head in disbelief, a booming laugh rolling out of him as I slung the car into an empty Kroger parking lot. Cut a few brodies, slammed on the brakes, and the thing finally went flying off the hood. The lot connected to a
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