Howler's Night

by Marie Hall

  I ran.

  At first I headed east. It felt vital that I should somehow, but even as I thought it, I balked because there were two sides to me now. One didn’t seem to question why going east was so important, and another screamed at me not to listen to the compulsion and go west.

  That still voice grew progressively louder, and though I cringed when I did an about face, I followed the instinct that’d guided me for many lifetimes and headed west instead.

  I ran and ran and ran. Spots danced in my vision, and the call of the earth around me was ear-splittingly loud. The banging of a woodpecker sounded like an explosion. The sawing of my breath raced through my lungs like fire, my skin hurt, my skull throbbed, and every step I took was so much pain.

  I didn’t know how long I ran. But eventually I saw a break in the trees, and I followed the well-worn path straight to a blacktop road.

  Roads led to freedom.

  There was something back in the woods, something malevolent and twisted. I felt it clinging to me like wet leeches, and the further I moved away from it the easier it got to breathe. So I kept moving.

  The road was empty. I kept hoping for a car, a truck, anything, so I could hitch a ride, but no one came.

  This was the highway to Hell.

  I stopped running the moment I thought that. Staring down at my feet, I saw they were bloody and raw. But it barely fazed me; it was just more pain. The manacles on my wrists seemed to mock me; there was a story there. I knew there was, but I didn’t know what it was. The more I tried to find it, the emptier my head became. I saw nothing but shadow and darkness when I tried to think, so I stopped thinking.

  The loud chirp of a bird finally tore me from my thoughts. I must have stood there dazed for hours because the sky was gray, and it could be nighttime, or it could be rain.

  I sniffed.

  What was rain? Was it red? That seemed to make sense.

  I could hardly remember. But I smelled the minerals in the air, and I thought that maybe that was rain.

  Until a wet drop landed on my nose. And then another. And then another. Until it wasn’t just drops, but a sheet of water pouring down on me from the heavens. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped, and I should have been scared, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

  I held my hands up, tipped my chin forward, and soaked it in, and smiled.

  Only once I began to shiver did I remember that I couldn’t stop, that I had to keep going, had to get away.

  The sky was a deep shade of navy blue when I finally spied my first glimpse of humanity in the form of a blinking neon roadside bar sign that read The Twilight House.

  I didn’t stop to consider whether I should go in looking as I did. I was shivering, I was cold, and I was soaked. The bar wasn’t much of a building, really more of a powder blue wood-paneled shack with a rusted tin roof. The entire structure looked worn, except for the neon sign. In fact, it seemed to beckon me inside.

  I knew that idea was bizarre, but I swear each flash of light called to my soul, and the panic that’d spread like a riled hornets nest when I’d woken up started to calm.

  With trembling fingers, I lifted my hand, gazing around at the gravel lot full of black motorcycles. I was driven solely by instinct at that point. Normally I would never go someplace where I didn’t know what I was walking into, but as broken as I felt, I still trusted that gentle whisper inside me enough to push open the door. The second I did, it almost felt like I’d stepped into an alternate dimension.

  The inside of the place was dimly lit, as these hole-in-the-wall places generally tended to be. There wasn’t much in the way of décor, just metal tables lined up along the wall, two pool tables to the side, a dart board on the wall, and a bar to the front that gleamed silver. A group of men crowded around the pool tables.

  Several heads whipped up when I walked in and stared at me with flat, black eyes. My skin prickled as I sensed power rippling like hot asphalt beneath their flesh.

  The scent of predators blasted over me, and I shivered. All the males, and even the few females, wore the same odor; it was a mix of damp earth, sex, and musk. I realized it was a pheromone they were leaking, and I knew—though I didn’t know how—that none of them were human.

  Just like I wasn’t human.

  That reality should have come as a shock to me, but it didn’t. Whatever malaise had gripped me back in the woods seemed to be slowly fading. I could now remember my name—it was Ya-El.

  I looked at the people in the bar. They wore the skins of humans. They were toned and in varying shades of black—from light tan to darkest ebony, with cat-like eyes that ranged from emerald green to icy blue. Their features bore a feline aesthetic. Each of them had long, shaggy dreds that hung past their shoulders in differing shades of red and brown. With broad foreheads and wide jaws, I couldn’t call them ugly. They were unusual, yes, but alluring and hypnotic as well.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and tiptoed toward the bar.

  I could feel their eyes on my back as I sat. Behind the bar stood a man who stared at me with a hard, penetrating look in his unnatural, tri-colored eyes of green and blue and red right around the pupils. His features were bold and angular and his skin as pale as my own; he looked nothing like the other patrons. He wasn’t dressed in leathers and chaps like the rest of them were. Instead he wore charcoal gray suit pants and a vest with a snow white tie in a Windsor knot. His short brown hair lay in casual spikes, and something inside of me twitched, like some force or entity that shared my space was undulating slowly awake.

  But just as quickly as it happened it disappeared, and I scratched the back of my neck, swiftly glancing down at my bare feet and trying to ignore the fact that my body tingled all over.

  The image of his clothes tried to jog a memory loose—of a man I once knew wearing something similar. I blinked as my palms grew moist and my pulse hammered. I couldn’t remember the name of the man or even see a clear picture of his face because it was hidden in deep shadow. The only thing my mind could latch onto was deep brown eyes. But when I tried to study the memory, it blinked in and out of focus like crappy cable on an antennaed TV.

  The man ran a dishrag across a glass tumbler and lifted a brow as if asking me a silent question.

  “What’s your name, girl?” he asked after another five seconds of awkward silence, and I could hear the gravel of years of hard living echoing behind it. I cocked my head because with his smooth skin and clear eyes he didn’t look much older than me. I wondered who he was. It bothered me that I didn’t know, but I thought maybe he was keeping his identity muted from me.

  If he could do that, that meant he was very powerful. Even so, I sensed no threat of violence from him.

  “I’m not a girl.” My words were automatic.

  He chuckled, and I shivered because it suddenly felt like I’d stepped into an arctic blast. I exhaled a white curl of steam.

  “How would you know?”

  I froze and narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  He set the glass down and planted his palms on the metal bar. “Didn’t mean nuthin’.”

  But I knew he meant something, even if he wasn’t staring at me, even if he seemed perfectly normal and bored by the entire conversation. I felt the truth ringing behind the mundane.

  “What’ll you have?”

  I hadn’t even looked at the menu. Surprisingly, I wasn’t hungry. I shrugged.

  “C’mon, darlin’.” He gave me a wide grin that again caused the blood in my veins to turn to slush. “Think real hard. You gotta have a favorite.”

  I pounded my fist down so hard I felt the metal yield beneath my hand. “What. Do. You. Know?”

  He had answers. And I had nothing but a million questions I needed answers to, and I knew he knew it.

  “Girl”—he leaned forward and I was blasted with a wave of power so intense that if I hadn’t been sitting I would have fallen to my knees—“you couldn’t handle what I know.”

  I grabbed my ch
est as my breathing hitched. I was running on nothing but adrenaline at that point, but I knew that whatever he was, I couldn’t take him. Then he grinned, and I was so confused that all I could do was frown and stare at him warily, feeling a lot like a mouse in the sights of coiled rattler.

  “Tell you what.” His twang was thick but soothing, and I liked the sound of his scratchy drawl. “You just sit there and think a spell. I got payin’ customers to tend to.”

  Then he snapped the rag across his shoulder and sauntered off, and I could finally breathe normally. Not in the mood to be bothered anymore, I rested my face on my fists and stared absentmindedly at the chalkboard menu in front of me. So many thoughts tumbled against one another in my mind.

  But the only one I could seem to focus on was why I didn’t smell any food.

  It was weird—the place billed itself as a diner of sorts from the outside, and yet nothing about it looked like one. It definitely reminded me of a bar, but though Windsor knot guy was drying a cup, I’d yet to see anyone actually order a drink.

  I felt the press of his eyes on me every now and then, but I didn’t return the look. The adrenaline from before had started to wear off, I was so tired, and the sound of light rainfall hitting the tin roof became white noise that lulled me into something like a trance.

  It probably wasn’t safe to pass out there, but I had nothing on me. In fact, if they wanted to throw me out, they probably could. I was riffraff, and most places didn’t have time for people like me.

  My eyelids were just beginning to droop when the front door was thrown open, letting in a blast of cold air. I didn’t turn around, but all the fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on edge.

  The buzzing of talk ceased, and I tightened my jaw. I was at war with myself; curiosity made me want to turn, but again that small voice inside me screamed, telling me not to look because I smelled a scent I vaguely recognized—sandalwood and the musk of darkest night.

  It was a smell I craved with every molecule that lived and breathed inside me. But I kept still and closed my eyes. Then a large, warm hand clamped down on my shoulder and a man’s voice whispered in my ear.

  “I’ve found you, little demon.”

  And for a split second I couldn’t describe the overwhelming feeling of joy that ignited through my blood, the desire to wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in his smell, tell him I needed him.

  I couldn’t even remember his name, but I knew him. I slowly lifted my hand, ready to caress the side of his bristled jaw. The man looked tired. There were shadows under his eyes, but a fire burned deep inside them too. He wore a small smile, and I could swear he seemed happy to see me.

  I opened my mouth, ready to whisper the words trapped in my soul. But I should have heeded that voice that told me not to turn and look, because the second I touched his skin and felt the shivers take him, my mind went blank and only one word slipped from my tongue.

  “Kill.”

  ~*~

  Asher

  Finally my demon was back within arm’s reach, and the muscles in my thighs and back couldn’t stop twitching with the desire to hold her, to assure myself that after nearly a year, she was here with me again.

  Once I’d spotted her last night, it’d taken me hours to pinpoint her location because she’d been on the move. But I did, and it was hard for me to accept that this was reality and not some nightmare I was bound to wake up from.

  But each second that passed assured me this was the real thing.

  Pandora was a little worse for wear maybe—her feet were muddy, and cuffs shackled her wrists—but it could have been so, so much worse. I knew she’d heal. I leaned in and whispered to her that I’d found her. My heart was so heavy it felt like it would burst.

  I had followed this woman around the world for centuries, always keeping an eye on her, knowing deep in my dark heart that she belonged to me. And no matter the time or distance that separated us, I would always find her. Pandora was mine and I was hers.

  Finally she turned to look at me, and I wanted to touch her, but I didn’t know what they’d done to her. I still sensed the wrongness that laced her essence. But she was smiling up at me and reaching out to caress the side of my face, and I forgot my caution.

  Only she had the power to make me do that.

  But then a flicker of inky black flashed through her eyes, and the smile she wore died.

  “Pandora?” I turned my palms up, taking a hesitant step back. I’d been around predators long enough to know when one was about to strike. Normally the challenge spurred my killer instinct, but not with her. Never with her.

  There was murder in my woman’s eyes.

  “Kill,” she hissed.

  Then, so fast I could hardly track it, her skin rippled, turning a demonic shade of gray. Her lavender eyes glowed like they’d sucked up all the light in the place.

  I felt the eyes of the people behind us turn to look. I knew who they were; I’d known the moment I’d stepped into this place.

  They wouldn’t bother us, but the proprietor might. Pandora might not know it, but she’d stepped straight into a hornet’s nest.

  “Little demon.” I shook my head slowly, cautiously. I’d sensed her hesitance. She hadn’t attacked yet, but her breathing kept building, and a growl rumbled in her throat.

  Only once before had I seen her like this—when she’d killed Kemen. She’d loved him; in fact, Kem was probably the only being on the planet she’d truly loved, and she’d had no problem ripping his head off his neck.

  I doubted even her regard for me would make her stop if she lost control of the beast.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the suited owner step around the bar and come up slowly behind her.

  Her nostrils flared, as though she’d caught wind of him.

  “Look at me.” I kept my voice calm. “That’s right, little demon, just at me. Only me.” As I spoke, I moved ever so slowly toward her.

  I didn’t have time to tell the suit to get away. If I lost my focus for even a second she’d rip my throat out. But I’d be damned if I let the bastard lay a hand on her.

  The growls were growing louder. I stopped moving.

  All the fine hairs on the back of my neck tingled.

  “Hell,” was all I could say before she was on me, tackling me to the ground. We flew into an empty table, scattering the chairs like pinballs.

  Rolling her over as carefully as I could while she hissed and bucked, I grabbed her wrists and slammed them down on the floor. “Pandora, wake up!”

  Hard hands curled into my shoulder, attempting to tug me off her.

  “Let go,” I growled to the faceless stranger and focused my attention solely on her.

  But that brief lapse in concentration cost me. Her elongated claws shredded through my shirt and latched into my chest, driving like hot spikes through my flesh. Clenching my teeth, I yanked her hands out and slammed them down on the concrete again.

  “Pandora, please,” I grunted. “Don’t make me do this.”

  But her face was contorted, and she screamed at me, bucking her hips up as she attempted to throw me. My chest bled profusely, staining the front of my gray shirt a dark, viscous red. Her dress was drenched in my blood.

  The hands attempted to grab me again, but I jerked my head to the side, connecting with someone’s temple.

  “Leave us the hell alone!”

  I heard the angry buzzing of voices, but I couldn’t focus on it. My only thought and concern was for her.

  Only once before had she ever lost her head like this, and it’d taken something more than brute strength to get her to wake up.

  Taking a gamble, I released her wrists and kissed her.

  But unlike last time, Pandora didn’t snap out of the haze. Her teeth latched onto my lips, and she bit down so hard they split. I snapped my head back and licked the blood off.

  I had no choice now.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I called the shadows to me, gathering them
from every corner of the place until they were a tight coil of energy in my palm.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, knowing the darkness would take her and drag her under into a spell that would disorient and blind her, draining her energy and making her feel phantom waves of pain. It was the least painful weapon in my arsenal, but even so, I knew it would hurt like a mother.

  I blasted the shadow into her temple.

  She screamed and grabbed her head as the shadow washed through her. Pandora curled into a tight ball of writhing agony on the floor.

  I was breathing heavier than normal when I finally glanced up to stare into the cold, hard eyes of Death himself.

  Chapter 5

  “Well.” Death shrugged and gave me a huge grin. “That’s one way to put your old lady down.”

  Swiping a hard fist across my mouth, I swallowed the bitter taste of my still leaking blood, and snarled. “You get away from her.”

  “Easy, there Haus.” He held up his hands. “Ain’t nobody gonna meet their maker tonight. Are they boys?”

  The shifty eyes of were-panthers turned in my direction.

  Of all the places Pandora could have holed up, it made me sick that she’d come here. How could she have walked in here? How did she not know where she was going? She was smart—I knew the skills she had, her ability to sense danger—and yet she’d blithely sauntered in.

  It made me question all over again what they’d done to her.

  Taking a deep breath, I hefted her weight into my arms. She screamed the moment I touched her. I grimaced at the sound and headed for the door, biting down on my tongue to keep from grunting as the wounds in my chest stretched. In her demon form she weighed twice what she normally did.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do with her, or how I was going to get through to her, but I would. She’d attacked me tonight. It didn’t make sense, but now I knew why her colors were distorted. She’d been altered. My demon didn’t even recognize me.

  As I made my way out, still sorting through what my next move would be, a burly, dark-skinned panther dressed in chaps and wearing a cut with a reaper and a sickle patch on it crossed his thick arms and glowered at me.