Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel

by Shannon K. Butcher

  Her fumbling, painful experiments had led her to believe that someone inside that shelter was blocking her curse. If she could only figure out who they were an$d make them teach her how they did it, she’d be free.

  But her potential savior had left, and Rory had never been able to track the person down. Once in a while her visions would fade and she’d know she was close, but she’d never figured out who was to thank for that reprieve.

  A flash of hot pink hair and chain-clad leather burst into her mind, making her stumble in shock. Rory’s hair was hot pink, and while she wasn’t the only one who had the artificial feature, chances were slim that there was another woman with her hair and jacket nearby.

  Someone was watching her.

  Rory tried to sort through the jumbled images to focus on who was behind her, but there were so many flashes, and most of them were so bright, that she could hardly see the ground in front of her feet. There were too many people still awake in the city, too many sights slamming into her for her to latch onto a single one for very long.

  And just because someone looked at her was no reason to wig out. Lots of people looked at her. That was one of the side effects of having hair louder than a freight train.

  Still, her instincts were screaming at her, and she’d learned the hard way that she should trust them. As she continued walking, the hair on the back of her neck rose in warning. Being out at night was dangerous. There were monsters everywhere, and for reasons she refused to think about, they wanted her.

  Rory increased her pace, anxiety driving her forward. She cut through an alley to get off the street and shorten her walk. The shelter wasn’t far now, and while the remodeling wasn’t finished, the doors were open and they were letting people inside to escape the cold.

  Bright pink consumed her vision, blocking out the wet pavement at her feet.

  That was her hair—her back—and whoever was watching her had followed her down the alley. Definitely not some random pedestrian.

  Well, hell. Now she had to do something. No way could she just keep walking, playing the role of prey. She’d never been much of an actress.

  Rory stopped dead in her tracks, gripped the gun in her purse, squared her shoulders in a way that shouted she was not some fragile victim, and turned to face whoever was following her. She really didn’t want to have to shoot someone, but after what Matt had done to her, she had learned to be more proactively defensive in her thinking. Two days and nights spent in a flooded basement filled with tentacled demons that lived on human flesh and blood had a way of curing a girl’s poor decision-making habits.

  Anxiety tightened her grip, but she kept her breathing even, struggling to see the alley looming in front of her over the splashy colors and lights in her head. She saw no one, only a slight flicker of motion she couldn’t even trust to be real.

  “I saw you,” she yelled into the night, her breath misting in the cold air.

  Another fleeting glimpse of pink came to her, again showing her the back of her own head.

  There was no way someone could have slipped past her. Even wither. Eveh her crazy visions, she wasn’t that blind—at least not yet. If the visions got any worse . . .

  She wouldn’t think about that now. She had to stay positive, and convinced that there was a cure for her faulty wiring.

  A low hiss rattled out from behind her.

  Fear streaked along her veins, and she whirled around to face the threat, gun raised and level.

  A demon stood there, black and shiny, easily blending into the wet pavement. Larger than a big dog, its forelegs were too long for its heavily muscled body, pushing it nearly upright. There wasn’t a single hair on the creature, but something thick and oily seeped from its skin, leaving smears behind its every step. Its face was disturbingly human, with eyes that glowed a bright, sickly green.

  Rory took a step back, unable to control the impulse to flee. The demon’s pointed ears twitched as if it heard something, and a second later, in the midst of flashing sights that were not her own, she saw the back of her head again. Only this time it was much, much closer.

  There was still someone behind her. Or something.

  She steadied her gun and aimed at the demon in front of her while she spared a quick glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, the demon’s bigger, uglier twin was right behind her, its bright eyes flaring with hunger.

  Rory knew better than to hesitate. This was a kill-or-be-eaten kind of situation if ever there was one—something she was way too familiar with these days.

  Stupid demons fucking up the city. Someone needed to get rid of them, and while she really wished that someone was anyone but her, there was no one else around.

  She fired her weapon three times at the closest demon. Chips of brick flew as bullets hit a building. One of her shots sucked less than the other two, hitting the demon in the shoulder. It roared in fury and cowered, twisting its head at an awkward angle so it could lick its wound. From behind her, she heard the other demon charge, its claws scraping across the asphalt. She turned and pitched her body to one side, working to find a clear shot through the flashes and sparkles filling her head.

  She landed hard enough to rattle her teeth but managed to stay on her feet. Before she could even steady the weapon, the demon was flying through the air again, claws extended and yellow teeth bared.

  The beast really needed a good dentist. That random thought slid through her as she moved on instinct, leaping out of the way. Her shoulder slammed hard against a brick wall, no doubt adding to the bruises she naturally accumulated thanks to her shitty vision.

  It was only when she tried to move again that she realized she’d hit more than her shoulder. Pain gripped her knee, scraping along her nerves and digging into her spine. Her leg refused to bend. She looked down and saw a small section of shiny nail protruding from under the side of her kneecap. Attached to that nail was a length of discarded two-by-four from a pile of construction refuse. The board was more than six feet long, and there was no way she could drag it along with her. But if she pulled the nail out, she’d bleed faster.

  Rory knew the folly of that plan much too well. If she bled, these two demons would become the opening act to dozens more.

  One of the demon’s eyes flared as it smelled her blood and charged.

  She was used to fear. She’d lived with it for years and had been intimate with it for a couple of horrible nights. That time had taught her how to function despite the terror screaming through her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel it. Her poor ribs were taking a beating as her heart thundered against them. The clammy chill of sweat coated her skin, making the gun harder to hold. But holding it was important, so that’s what she did.

  She raised the weapon and fired, sending the greasy beast skidding back on the wet pavement.

  That wouldn’t keep it away for long. There were only a few more bullets in her gun. She had no choice but to free herself and hope she could sprint fast enough and reach the shelter before the rest of the demons nearby smelled her blood and came running. Because they definitely would.

  She pulled in a deep breath and jerked the nail from her knee. The bent metal was coated in her blood, and she could feel wetness cooling her jeans.

  Both demons were slinking toward her now, their forelegs awkwardly bent at their sides, their muzzles low to the ground as they weaved their way closer. One lifted its head and howled, letting out an eerie, mournful sound.

  From somewhere that she guessed was a few blocks away, an answering howl rose. And a little more distant, another. Then another.

  Sometimes she hated being right.

  Those howls were the dinner bells, and Rory was the main course.

  Like hell.

  She aimed for the head of the bigger demon and fired. Her shot was true, and a chunk of oily skin and bone erupted from the thing’s head. It staggered and took a clumsy nosedive into the street, its legs twitching. Its twin bent down and licked the wound, though whether it was helpin
g or hurting the wounded beast, she had no idea. Nor did she give a fuck.

  She hadn’t killed it—not if it was like most of the creatures she’d seen. All she’d done was buy some time and increase her odds of surviving, if only from zero percent to one percent. One ravenous demon was more than enough to kill her just as dead as two could.

  Someone in an apartment nearby looked into a nearly empty refrigerator, and whatever magic curse haunted her decided that she really needed to see a bowl of fuzzy green stuff right now instead of the demons trying to kill her.

  Frustration raged inside her, but she tamped it down. She had to stay calm and focus on what was real and in front of her. The angrier she got, the more chaotic her visions would become—the more blind she’d become.

  Rory shoved out a harsh breath and backed away from the pair of monsters, easing her weight onto her injured leg. It held, but the pain grew worse with each step. The cold wet spot on her jeans drooped down farther, reaching her shin now.

  Somewhere nearby a finger bent with age and arthritis dialed 911.

  Shit. Poor cops had no idea how to deal with demons. Some ignorant, law-abiding citizen had just sent the protect-and-serve team into the jaws of evil. Literally.

  Maybe if she was out of there fast, the demons would go away and not nosh on the cops’ faces. It was the only chance they had.

  Before she could take so much as a step, the sight of dead brown grass filled her mind, sliding past her fast. It was lit by a bright green glow that glinted off of a blunt, shiny muzzle that looked just like those of the demons in front of her. And then the vision shifted and she saw another muzzle pointed down at a dirty street, and another lifted high to stare at the top of a chain-link fence, and another slinking under a parked semi.

  Fear chilled her skin and tightened her muscles, and she had to make a conscious decision not to go into a screaming tailspin of panic. More demons were coming, getting closer. She had to get out of there—both for her sake and the cops’.

  Rory took another step and her knee buckled under her weight. She nearly fell but steadied herself against a wall before she completely lost her balance.

  A scratching sound warned her that something was coming. She flattened her back against the wall and split her attention between the pair of demons and whatever was coming now.

  It was small—the size of a rat, but hairless and sporting a barbed scorpionlike tail that curved up over its back. Three glistening spines caught a sparkle of streetlight as its claws scrabbled over the pavement, heading straight for her. Six tiny glowing eyes lit its path.

  Rory had no idea what it was, but she knew what it was going to be in a second: dead.

  She aimed and fired, for once hitting where she aimed. The little demon—or whatever it was—splattered into a greasy stain. Droplets of black blood sizzled across the pavement, sending up thin tendrils of smoke.

  Definitely a demon.

  She felt pretty pleased and was congratulating herself for the shot when she heard more scratching coming from around the corner. Not twenty feet away, she saw a faint green glow. And then she saw what was making it.

  Dozens of those barbed scorpion-tailed things came scurrying toward her, moving faster than she could run.

  She didn’t have enough bullets. She couldn’t put weight on her fucked-up knee. The only exit was blocked by the pair of greasy black demons. Only seconds had passed since she’d looked away from them, but she didn’t dare turn her attention away for long.

  She needed a way out. Fast.

  Rory leveled her weapon at the biggest threat. The demon she’d shot in the head was back on its feet. The hole in its skull had begun to seal shut already. The smaller demon was several feet closer to her, and she could see flashes of her own face, pale and terrified, as it stalked nearer.

  She glanced up, hoping for a convenient fire escape, but there was nothing above her but clear black sky and boarded-up windows way too high to reach.

  She pulled in a fortifying breath, working hard to shove out some of her fear as she exhaled. The gun bucked in her grip. The closer demon yelped and flinched but didn’t go down. She fired again, and again, each shot forcing it back a bit but making no real difference. The things kept advancing, and she swore they were grinning at her, their green eyes glowing with malicious intent.

  Her gun clicked. She was out of bullets. But she wasn’t about to give up and let these fuckers have her. She’d survived worse odds than these.

  Of course, she hadn’t been bleeding then, either, calling every hairy, slimy, scaly thing nearby to come to take a bite.

  Rory dropped the gun and grabbed the long board that had stabbed her with its inconveniently placed nail. The wood was cold in her grip, but it felt solid and real. If she was going down, she was doing it Babe Ruth–style.

  One of the little things hit her shoe and started crawling onto it. She tried to fling it off with a hard kick, but the pain stalled her and the thing held on. She slammed the end of the board into it, crushing its head and her own toe.

  Pain sliced through her, stealing her breath for a moment.

  Her attention had been shifted to the little scorpion thing for less than three seconds, but as the vision of her own head getting close filled her mind, she knew that had been too long of a distraction. The smaller demon lunged for her, and she was completely flanked—and completely fucked.

  The world slowed as adrenaline flooded her body. She turned and began shifting her weight to fling herself out of the way. The jaws of the demon were wide-open, its yellow teeth only a couple of feet from her head—close enough to see black blood coating them and pulpy bits of greasy flesh stuck between them. The rotten stink of its breath made her gag.

  She lifted the board to protect her face, but even as she began to move, she knew she wouldn’t be fast enough. There wasn’t enough time to get the board in the way before those jaws closed on her head.

  This was it. This was how she was going to leave this earth—bleeding, afraid, and alone, while the rest of the world moved on as if nothing had happened. The fact that she could see them going about their routines rubbed her nose in just how small and insignificant her life really was. Now that Nana was gone, no one would miss her. As distant as she kept from people, chances were no one would even know she’d died. These things would haul her off and eat her, leaving no evidence behind.

  What a sad little life she’d led, full of fear.

  A metallic sound filled her ears, followed by a solid thwack. The open jaws careening toward her jerked down suddenly and hit her shin, but there was no force behind the blow. The muzzle simply bounced off and the head rolled away.

  It had no body.

  Confusion clouded her mind as she tried to figure out what she wat what ss seeing. Was this another vision? Something happening nearby? If so, then why wasn’t she dead and seeing nothing?

  Rory blinked, hoping to sort out reality.

  A man loomed a few feet away, too big to be real. He held a wide sword in his huge hands. The gleaming blade was coated in black oil. His giant body moved quickly, muscles straining the seams of his leather jacket.

  She didn’t trust her eyes, and yet this all seemed quite real. It even sounded real. Her visions abated.

  At the man’s feet lay the body of the demon that had nearly killed her. Black blood arced out of its neck in a pulsing spray that got weaker and weaker with every spurt. In front of him was the larger demon, staying low and out of range of that lethal blade.

  He’d saved her. He’d lopped off the head of the demon and saved her face from being eaten. That wasn’t supposed to happen. That wasn’t the way her life went these days. Things were supposed to suck, just like they always did.

  And yet there he stood, not vanished like a fleeting vision.

  Rory’s world began to make sense again, but the shock of still being alive hadn’t faded. A sense of joy filled her with her next breath. She wasn’t dead. The world was still moving on, but she was m
oving with it.

  The big man’s back was to her, and he was slowly circling the demon, angling it back into a doorway for an attack. For a moment all Rory could do was stare. He was smooth, each move flowing into the next in a seamless transition of power and strength. Muscles in his thighs bulged under his jeans, and when he stepped in a shallow puddle, his boot barely made a ripple. Even the mist from his breath curled out slowly and lazily, rising into the night as if it had all the time in the world.

  Graceful power radiated from his every gliding step. Shadows caressed him, holding him close in a lover’s embrace. He seemed too solid—grounded as if nothing could so much as rock him. And it wasn’t just his size that gave her that impression. She felt something sliding out of him—a heavy kind of energy that pinned her in place, mesmerizing her. She could stare at his broad back all day and never grow bored.

  A sharp pain stabbed her ankle, jerking her attention back to reality. She looked down and saw that one of those little scorpion demons had stung her and was now scurrying away, its barb shining wetly with her blood.

  That pain made sense. That was how her life was supposed to go. She got a beautiful visual treat in exchange for the low, low cost of being stabbed by a demon.

  The board was still in her hands, and she swung at the little fucker, hoping to squash it dead. Her aim was off, and she only clipped it, sending it into a skittering spin.

  The thing righted itself and sped off. The others of its kind veered around her and went straight for her savior in black leather.

  “Behind you!” she called out, even as she pushed herself forward, using the board as an awkward crutch.

  The man spun around in a fluid arc th fluid aat was way too graceful for someone his size. Between his big, booted feet, she saw the head of the second demon roll across the pavement into a brick wall.

  Whoever he was, she was glad he was on her side. At least, he was for now.

  Rory slammed her board down on one of the rat-sized things, turning it into a black stain.