Night Falls on the Wicked by Sharie Kohler

were garbed in dark winter attire and walked with an animal stealth, their steps deceptively slow, silent as wind—but she knew they could spring like a lion in the grass. She knew because she knew what they were. She’d seen them in her head only minutes ago.
    Even in the gloom of the alley, with distance between them, the eerie pewter of their eyes drilled into her, marked them instantly as the monsters she knew them to be.
    There’d been four in her vision. She whipped around, seeing only these two as of yet. But she knew the others were coming. Her skin prickled. They’d be here soon.
    “We have to go now,” she growled in a feverish rush of words, hoping, believing there was still a chance as long as the other two lycans hadn’t arrived.
    Beyond all coaxing, she snatched Pam by the arm and forced her to move. Pam glanced at the menacing pair. Weirdly enough it seemed thatrecognition flickered in her eyes. Even though she couldn’t suspect what they truly were, she evidently recognized a predator when she saw one.
    With a fearful nod, Pam tucked her daughter to her side and turned with Darby to flee in the other direction.
    They moved only one step before two more figures appeared at that far end of the alley, boxing them in. They were trapped. There was no moving ahead and no going back.
    Darby’s pulse hammered fast and hard against her neck. Her fingers dug hard into Pam’s arm. She relaxed her grip when she heard her whimper.
    “Who are they?” Pam demanded in a low voice. “What do they want?”
    Darby glanced around, looking for a weapon, anything to use to defend them. A two-by-four with some nails jutting out one end was piled against the side of the building with other debris. She seized hold of it. It wouldn’t kill any of them—she knew enough about lycans to know that—but it was something.
    She flexed her hand around the rough, splintery wood. Maybe it would be enough to injure one of the bastards … or at least make them work hard for their dinner. Time was of the essence. Lycans had remained undiscovered bymost of the world for this long because of their discretion and because they were good at what they did—kill.
    She knew they wouldn’t want to mess around with them too long. Soon the moon would ride high, and they wouldn’t want to linger in the relative open once they transitioned and risk exposure.
    She slapped the wood against her hand, trying to look tougher than she felt.
    One of the lycans cocked his head and studied her curiously with his coldly handsome face. She was certain he turned heads and lured many to their deaths with those deep-set, mesmerizing eyes, freakishly silver or not. He pushed his hood back from his head to reveal a head full of dark blond dreadlocks. “Aren’t you the feisty one?”
    Darby positioned herself sideways, looking back and forth between each pair. “We’re not going to make it easy. You better go find a meal somewhere else.”
    The woman close to her head made a strangling sound, clearly frightened by Darby’s words.
    “Meal?” Dreadlocks asked with genuine surprise. “What an interesting choice of words. Why would you say that? We’re just lost. Thought you could help set us on the right path.”
    One lycan dove for her in a blur. Darby swung,ready. He howled in agony as she met him upside the head with the nailed end.
    He staggered back, clutching his bleeding face and screeching.
    One of his brethren chided, “Oh, shut up, Marcus. You’ll heal.”
    “That bitch!” he shrieked, pulling back a hand to stare at his blood there. “She stuck a nail in my face!”
    Dreads continued to stare at Darby as if he didn’t know what to make of her.
    “Better move on and hunt somewhere else. I’m just gonna drag this out for you,” she warned with more bravado than she felt. Adrenaline burned through her veins, keeping her alert, ready. “It’s almost dark,” she reminded, jerking the two-by-four in her hands skyward. “You don’t