The Killing Season by Meg Collett

whispered in my head she might have opened the doors.
    I grabbed her arm, ready to pull her back into a room should I spot the inky black of fur or hear the click of nails across the entry’s floor. “What happened? How did you get this blood on you?”
    “You have her eyes. Her strength. She could kill anything with that whip.”
    Decision made, I ignored Abigail’s ramblings and pushed her behind me, adjusting my grip on the blade. I would stay here and hold the stairs, to keep any creature from going up or down, and hopefully keeping Abigail and myself alive.
    “Help!” I yelled. My voice cracked with the effort. “Someone help!”
    Behind me, Abigail’s hand ran across my hair, the strands sticking to her bloody fingertips. “Even your hair is the same. When I saw you, I thought you were her. But she’s dead. They killed her. Just like him. He’s dead too.”
    “Who’s dead?” I asked, my eyes roving across the entry and the halls around us. ’Swangs could be anywhere inside the base. I had no way of knowing how long the door had been opened. “Help!” I shouted again, blood dancing inside of me, ready for a fight.
    Down the hall, doors opened and banged shut. Lights started whipping on all around me, flooding the base with light. I glanced back at Abigail. She wasn’t looking at me; her haunted gaze turned toward the entry.
    Her blood snaked like tiny blue tributaries beneath her ghostly skin. “He’s dead. They killed him too.”
    Pounding footsteps crashed closer to us. On the third floor, people shouted back and forth. The stairs vibrated beneath my feet. “Who are you talking about, Abigail?”
    She pointed a long finger toward the entry, where a light had just turned on, illuminating the room below us. As I turned to look, I was already shivering.
    There, above the open front door, Sin’s severed head replaced where the aswang’s had been mounted previously. His mouth was stitched shut with the same red velvet string, his eyes open wide. Bone and cartilage, severed arteries and veins still dripping blood, hung roughly cut from the base of his neck.
    The rest of his headless, naked body slumped against the wall by the door, snow swirling across his bare toes.

 
     
    S E V E N
    Ollie
     
    “O llie!”
    I turned toward the sound of my name, which was no more than a hoarse croak. Luke, pale and drawn, half limped, half ran down the hallway, cocking a gun as he went. He slipped an extra clip into the back pocket of his jeans. The denim—without their top button closed—hung low on his hips, revealing a trail of dark hair beneath his navel and the tight taper of his abs. Even with the shit storm happening around me, I couldn’t help but scowl; Eve was going to love that look on him.
    “Get her in here,” Luke commanded, his voice clearer now. He swung open a bedroom door closest to us and grabbed his mother’s slim arm. I followed them inside after checking the hall one last time, my eyes lingering on the stairs. Sin laid just down in the entry without his head.
    And Abigail was covered in his blood.
    Luke closed the door and locked us inside the room, as if it would do any good against a ’swang attack. “Take this,” he said, offering me his gun. “I’ll get one from someone else. Stay in here. Don’t come out.”
    I stepped away from him and bumped into Abigail, who cowered behind me. “I’m not taking your only—”
    “Ollie, take it.” Only the desperation in his voice had me reaching for the gun. It settled heavy and cool in my hand as I automatically checked the safety. He handed me the additional clip too before jerking his chin toward his mom. “Keep her safe. I’ll be back.”
    “Be careful,” I said quietly. He paused and glanced back at me, his bloodshot eyes settling on my cheek. He rubbed his thumb across my face, and only when he pulled away did I realize he’d wiped blood off of me.
    “You too,” he said. Just like that, he was gone, the door slamming shut