Choosing Creepy’s way would doubtless keep my loved ones safe, but I probably wouldn’t like his method of securing their safety. It’d turn into something I would feel guilty about.
“You are who you are as well, Persephone. You have the strength you need. And the drive. And the intelligence. Cast away your doubts like the pebbles they are. Let them sink to the bottom; they will never amass into anything that can stop you.”
I faced him again.
“A million pebbles will not significantly alter the lake.”
“Are you saying my worries about this choice are irrelevant?”
“I am saying that the choice itself is like deciding between two routes to the same destination. One is longer and smoother than the other, but both will get you there.”
“Do I have time for the longer, smoother road?”
“The shorter route is more difficult. The time equals out and the choice is more balanced than you know.”
“Then, what’s the catch?”
“Each road has a separate toll; the imbalance exists in the price that you must pay. Focus not on the choice, but on what it costs you. It is that which you must weigh carefully.”
Yeah. Creepy’s services weren’t going to be free.
“Now, Persephone, let me tell you a little about the art of negotiation. . . . ”
CHAPTER THIRTY
With that solid wood table leg—thicker than a baseball bat and having a square block at the top—Mero had delivered a blow that would have killed a normal man, a blow that should have critically injured any w?rewolf.
He could not believe what he was seeing. Before him, the creature gathered itself to stand. Its body re- shifted as it rose, growing broader and taller, exceeding the mass of any w?rewolf Mero had ever seen. Only in the woodcut illustrations of ancient texts had he ever seen a creature so menacingly blended. This was part man with every sinew thickened, and part beast, black furred and feral. It stood on two legs, on enormous paws, and the arms ended in hands with thick claws. The head was wider than that of a natural wolf, and dark as pitch except for the pale yellow eyes glowing like coals in a hearth. The long ears were twisted angrily back. Slavering jaws opened. Saliva dripped from black lips that curled to reveal fangs longer and sharper than any vampire’s. A guttural snarl filled the room.
He had read the legends that said the King of Wolves could take this form. He had never thought to see it with his own eyes.
He held his ground.
Mero hefted the table leg in his right hand, and readied a white-hot orb in his left.
The w?re lunged. Mero swung the wood for another upper-cut impact. The Domn Lup veered left to avoid the strike, then swiped a large paw, hitting the leg hard and giving it more follow-through than Mero was prepared for.
Persephone was not far behind him and he worried that the clublike weapon might strike her. He fought the momentum and held the searing orb out in front, letting arcs of heat whip out to keep the wolf back. He had to get this fight away from her before either of them accidentally broke her circle, or worse, hurt her.
He regained control of the heavy table leg, and, grip firmer, swung it in a downward angle. The beast had to hop back, but leapt forward immediately after. Mero loosed an orb. It hit the w?re in the shoulder. As the beast cried out, Mero fled into the hall; the narrow space would be a disadvantage to the big creature.
When he neared the front door and the space widened at the bottom of the staircase, Mero spun around and raised his weapon.
But the creature had not followed behind him.
The attack came from the side, out of the darkened living room.
• • •
Johnny barely had to think. The beast’s instincts worked faster than his brain could process words, let alone dictate commands preemptively. He avoided the overhead swing of the club and attacked. A ball of lightning heat crashed into his shoulder and he roared in pain.
The prey ran.
Impulsively, the beast moved to follow.
Leaping from the doorway, he pounced. The vampire faced him at the last second and he knocked him down before the staircase. The beast drew back, teeth bared, ready to kill. He brought his toothy maw down . . . on a scalding orb.
Howling, he jerked back.
The vampire sat up and slammed the club against Johnny’s head. Wrapping his claws around the offending object, he tried to wrench it from Mero’s grasp. They struggled for several seconds, but as Johnny was atop the vamp, leverage won out. He jerked the table leg free, raised it high, and brought it down toward his prey’s head.
A bolt of light slammed into the weapon, knocking it aside at the last moment and jerking it down to embed it into the floor.
Mero hit him with another bolt of energy.
Johnny pulled on the club. He yanked on it—but it was stuck fast.
Mero wriggled in an effort to get away. Johnny stomped a huge paw onto his chest. His prey could not escape, but he pummeled Johnny with blast after blast. He held fiery orbs against his legs. Johnny tore the club free and readied it again.
Another blast diverted it a second time—this time hitting his arms with enough force that he ripped through the oak handrail and spindles of the staircase.
Seeing the destruction he was wreaking on Red’s house, Johnny felt remorse, but the beast saw more weapons. Sharp, wooden weapons. He dropped the club and snapped a broken spindle off at the base. His claws turned the pointy end down.
He dropped to his knees, aiming the point at Mero’s heart.
The vamp clasped Johnny’s forearms, holding him back, but Johnny could feel the trembling in his prey’s limbs. He was stronger, heavier, more physically powerful than the vamp. He had only to keep the pressure on. He growled and watched thick saliva drip on his prey’s face.
Arcs of energy crawled along his skin, hotter and hotter until the reek of burning hair and skin filled his nostrils. Still, he would not be deterred. This vamp was in Red’s house, trying to take her, and she was unresponsive and defenseless. Johnny would not fail her again.
He shoved on the stake and felt the tip rip fabric, felt it pierce skin. Mero gave a desperate scream. The burning redoubled on Johnny’s furred arms and then, from behind, someone shouted, “Sire! No!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ailo took a step and nearly fell. Talto rushed toward her. With her sister’s arm supporting her, Ailo found walking much easier. They made it to the door. Talto looked back. “You come with us, Sil.”
“Why?” Ailo asked. “She needs to—”
“We need time,” Talto explained. “Get back to kissing the guard,” she added over her shoulder to
