smile wilted and roared into a snarl as spittle oozed down his pale nose and cheek.
I never saw him hit me.
My chest collapsed as if I’d been hit by a car and I was whiplashed backward. The wall, built sturdy in the hopes of withstanding supernatural attack, spider webbed around me as my back sunk into it several inches. My skull snapped back and added its own impression to the mosaic, a carousel of lights spinning playful in my eyes. The rumbling in my chest was a clear sign something was broken.
Azrael was in my face before my vision cleared. “You have sealed your fate, demon, no matter my vow.” His words slithered over me. A watery blur of motion, I saw him float back. “Rampage, take him away.” He waved a hand, dark tracers swimming in its wake. “Keep him sedate until I return, but keep him alive.”
The werewolf growled a reply and I was yanked to my feet, my chest screaming in protest. As the pain washed over me, I became more focused. Able to see a tiny bit better, I saw Azrael glowering at me as he stood over Abraham’s body. The old man looked peaceful, if nothing else.
“Soon, the Nephilim will lay dead upon the field and their key piece will be mine. Once they are vanquished, I will return to ask you for yours once more. You’ll have one opportunity to defy me for each of their lives, Triggaltheron, then you’ll have no more.” He grinned feral and gestured to Abraham. “How many bodies shall be piled at your feet before you see reason?”
Afraid my voice would give away just how much his threat bothered me, I kept my mouth shut. Finally able to see worth a damn, I just stared at him. It was the best I could do.
He laughed. “While your courage is commendable, don’t let it be the sword your friends and allies fall upon.” He waved me away. “I will return soon, Rampage. Treat our guest well.”
The werewolf smirked in reply as bubbling clouds of inky blackness rose up from beneath Azrael. The darkness floated upward and swallowed the archangel whole, a moment later he was gone, leaving me and the furball alone in the room.
I’d just started to think of how I could handle Rampage when his fist slammed into my side. Bright light washed out my vision and I hit the floor, gasping for breath. Through the haze, I felt him take my gun. The metallic tinge of blood swirled in the back of my throat and I rolled to my back to relieve the pressure at my side. It was really obvious then that Azrael had busted open something inside me. Rampage’s punch had only made it worse.
Vaguely, I realized he had opened the door. Two more werewolves strolled inside, looking down at me with sharpened smirks. They each took an arm and hauled me up, then out into the hallway. Too beat to pretend I was tough, I hung limp and let them drag me.
“You see, demon? This is why us shifters are taking over. One little punch and you’re down for the count.” His friends sniggered at me, their ringleader electing not to tell them Azrael had already cleaned my clock and saved his furry asshole.
“Is that why you took my gun, brave guy, because I’m no threat?”
My sarcasm earned me another shot to the side. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to worry about falling. Unlucky for them, the pain of my internal injuries caused me to throw up.
Black blood and yellow bile spewed from my mouth, a waterfall of pungent nastiness that hit the ground and splattered everywhere. Wolfen paws squished and I could see the vomit squeezing up between their clawed toes. They grumbled in disgust and sped up, the lingering scent keeping pace.
“You’re going to pay for that,” one of the werewolves threatened and shook me roughly. The other grumbled in agreement, joining in on the fun.
If I could have spoken, I would have told him to put it on my tab. Of course, that would have only made things worse. Given my already precarious position, it was probably a good thing I couldn’t dig the hole any deeper.
Or was it?
A dimly lit bulb fluttered to life inside my thick skull. If I weren’t around, I wouldn’t have to worry about Azrael finding the key piece in time. He also wouldn’t need to torture my friends. While I couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t do it out of spite, I could hope I wasn’t worth his effort.
Thinking along those lines, a plan began to form, no matter how half-baked it might seem to anyone not currently inside my head. While Azrael had told Rampage not to kill me, the message hadn’t been passed on to the other two flunkies, as far as I could tell. Besides, even if they had been told, I can be very persuasive. Seriously, who wouldn’t want to kill me?
As they dragged me down the hall, I glanced over at the werewolf on the left and did my best to force a smile onto my face. He glared at me.
“What’s your problem?”
“I’m just curious about something,” I choked out. “Are you neutered, or do werewolves just naturally lack balls?”
He snarled and pulled me to the ground by my arm and delivered a vicious kick to my ribs. The world disappeared in an explosion of white that faded fast to black, a piercing hum bouncing around inside my ears. Another kick brought the world back into focus, and what little was left in my stomach vacated it in search of better climes. My generosity was rewarded by a stomp to the head, my face smashed into the concrete floor, Humpty Dumpty reenacted. My vision tunneled and the darkness closed in. The warm slime against my cheek was so far out I barely registered it. I felt something like a water balloon burst in my chest, a warm, wet sensation tickling me inside. Waves of exhaustion washed over me, everything slowing down.
As my eyes slid closed, I heard Rampage howling at the other werewolf. Too tired to care, I let go. Mission accomplished.
A sharp pain against my cheek snapped my eyes open. They came into focus on a furry lightning bolt, reddish-orange eyes glimmering just below.
“You’re not getting off that easily, demon.”
Damn.
Still laying in my spew, warm and sticky against my fingers, it was obvious I hadn’t been out but a few seconds. So much for my master plan. Now I was just beaten up more, and still alive. What’s a guy got to do to die?
Rampage leaned over and pulled me up, supporting my weight, but making me stand. The movement just reinforced my wish to die. It hurt-a lot.
The other two werewolves stayed a little ways behind us, their faces looking like beaten dogs; one of them carried my gun. Rampage ignored them as we traveled on a little further until we reached the area of DRAC that housed the holding cells.
“Get the door,” he told the other two.
They snapped to and slipped past us, one yanking open the heavy, reinforced steel door while the other stood by.
A blur of black and white whipped through the air behind them. Geysers erupted where the werewolves’ heads had been just a split-second before. Warm blood rained over us as their bodies danced in place for a moment, then crumbled to the floor. Their heads landed with moist splats right after.
Rampage’s grip loosened and I drooped to the ground across from the spurting corpses. A rumbling, basso growl came from beyond the door and echoed down the hall, vibrating the walls. The werewolf stood there without moving as a monstrous blue-black form appeared in the doorway. Red stained claws led the way as the creature hunkered down and eased through the door, a grinning ursine face coming nose to nose with Rampage.
It was another werebear, but it definitely wasn’t Grawwl.
It nudged Rampage with its snout, its muzzle pulling back to show a mouthful of razor sharp teeth. A low growl rolled thunderous from its mouth and Rampage stiffened in response.
A quick slash later, the werewolf stumbled back, an oozing, crimson hole where his throat had been just seconds before. He clutched to the wound, a quiet whistle slipping between his clawed fingers, and stared wide- eyed at the werebear. His eyelids fluttered: once, twice, then closed, never to open again. His arms fell limp at his sides and his legs gave way. He crumbled into a heap and laid there, his life’s blood staining the tile floor.
The need for me to die now passed, I looked up at the giant bear and sighed, lowering my face. It was just my luck.
