“Get in there, bitch,” the guard said as he shoved her farther inside.
He realized I wasn’t in sight. Before he could turn, I leapt, bringing my full weight down on his right leg. There was a soft snap as his fibula broke. He screamed in pain. As he collapsed to the floor, I pushed off and lunged through the open door. Right at the second guard.
“Oh, fuck,” he said as he tried to bring the barrel of the shotgun around. He was encumbered by our two backpacks in his free hand. He dropped the packs and tried to raise the barrel. I stabbed the back of his hand with the pointed end of the kubotan, striking the nerve cluster and breaking bone.
He screamed in pain and his forward hand dropped limp. He fell back and brought the barrel up with his good hand, but I was inside its radius and stabbed forward with the pen. I caught him in the solar plexus and he doubled over in pain and shock.
I heard a growling at my back, a scream, and then a gurgle.
I turned to see a werewolf with its jaws fastened on the injured man’s throat. Blood splash between the beast’s teeth as it worried his throat. It shook its head from side to side as its teeth sank deeper into flesh.
The tattered remnants of Gail’s blouse and jeans encumbered the wolf.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.
The werewolf snarled at me around the man’s throat, but it kept shaking its muzzle. It adjusted its grip and I heard the crunch of vertebrae.
There was scrambling at my back. The second guard was rising to his feet. As he did, he reached toward the shoulder rig under his left arm. I stepped closer to him and jabbed the kubotan’s tip into the back of his hand. Simultaneously, I reached inside his jacket and gripped the hilt of his semi-automatic. I hit the thumb release as he grabbed my wrist with his damaged left hand. He pushed back against my wrist. My hand and his pistol emerged from his jacket. I flicked off the Beretta’s safety and pulled the trigger repeated. His body jerked with the impact of the 9 mm rounds and at the third round, his hand dropped from my wrist. I stepped back and put two rounds into his face as he slid down the wall.
“Fucking amateurs and their shoulder holsters,” I growled.
I turned, expecting to see my furry lover coming at me, but she was still busy with the carcass beneath her. She had stopped shaking the body and the man’s head was rolling across the floor toward the door. She ripped at his clothing and then her snout dipped to his chest. Bones snapped as she bit.
I spotted the shotgun. Shoving the Beretta into the back of my waistband, I bent for the shotgun. There was no way that these people would have silver ammunition, whether they were werewolves or just hired guards. However, the shotgun might at least slow a were down. I hesitated to blast Gail with a shotgun at ten feet, but she should recover. I raised the shotgun to my shoulder and sighted down the barrel.
Again, I heard movement at my back.
I turned to see the man I’d just shot twice in the face changing form.
Oh, fuck!
Before he could complete the change, I moved closer and put the shotgun’s barrel against his neck.
Boom!
Blood and meat splattered against the wall and into me. My first blast tore a two-inch wide hole in his throat and blood spurted from of the tremendous wound. I racked the slide, moved the barrel slightly.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The fourth blast took out his spine and his body stopped trying to change forms. Before I could turn, his features were already becoming human again.
“Regenerate that, muthafucka!” I snarled.
I racked the slide one more time and turned back to the feeding werewolf. The shotgun blasts had apparently not been enough to distract it from its meal.
I raised the shotgun and stepped forward.
Then I realized our backpacks lay on the concrete floor of the hall, just behind the open door.
Keeping an eye on the werewolf, I knelt beside Gail’s pack and quickly located the armbands. I slipped both of them over my left wrist and stood up. Reversing the shotgun in my hands, I moved silently, approaching the werewolf as quickly as possible. I was four feet from her when her gore covered muzzle left the man’s chest and her yellow eyes focused on me. Her lips pulled back off red-stained teeth and she snarled.
I tried to imitate Babe Ruth at bat and swung as hard as I could as the beast leapt at me. The shotgun’s heavy wood stock caught Gail on the side of the head hard enough to knock her off target. She hit the floor and slid into the wall. Rushing forward, I raised the shotgun over my head as she tried to rise. I brought it down like I was chopping wood onto the center of her head and she dropped back to the floor.
She was still growling and trying to rise. I hit her one more time and she stopped struggling. I dropped the shotgun and yanked both armbands off my wrist. I slipped each one onto the werewolf’s front legs and tried to close the clasp. The beast growled and tried to rise again. I dropped my weight onto it, pinning it temporarily to the floor. Before it could move, I pulled its front legs together and clipped the clasp closed.
I felt a tingle in the chain. The armbands shrunk against her fur and Gail began to change.
I heard a howl from somewhere above me.
Crap! More damn werewolves. How many were in Montgomery’s pack?
I left Gail and ran back to our backpacks.
Leaning the guard’s pump shotgun against the hallway wall, I upended Gail’s pack onto the floor. Among the
