Bullet holes stitched the monster’s chest, but it ignored the wounds, vaulting the chest-high counter. Helen backed away, struggling to support her partner’s sagging weight with her left arm around his torso. Heavy, so fucking heavy -- Judy had been on him to lose weight…
The monster grabbed the barrel of Helena’s Glock, wrenching it out of her hand, sending it flying to clatter off the nearest wall. “You fucking stupid bitch!” the monster roared, voice deep and inhuman. “I’m going to eat your cunt ass!”
“Get away from me!” Helena screamed as the werewolf loomed over her. One of her arms was still wrapped around Tim -- she couldn’t let him go, he was her partner. Tim’s knees went lax and he slid out of her arms as she clutched for him. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening! She started to turn, run, get help, but clawed fingers clamped on her shoulder, snatched her off her feet, jerking her around. Her shoulder joint howled in agony, and Helena screamed, kicking at the monster with both feet, wishing she were wearing heels, heels would at least be something…
The monster slammed Helena’s head into the ceiling so hard, light exploded behind her eyes. A hot blowtorch blast of pain ripped into her abdomen. Eyes snapping open, she looked down to see the werewolf had buried its fangs in her stomach. The massive head jerked back, dragging something red away. Intestines? Are those my intestines? Agony detonated in her belly. Helena shrieked, high, terrified, raining frantic punches on his massive skull. She might as well have been hitting him with feathers. He sure as hell didn’t notice.
The room tilted, spun. Something slammed into her back as the wolf crashed down on top of her, ripping into her chest. Frantic, Helena went for its orange eyes as a voice in her head shrieked, I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead! It’s eating me! Light flashed somewhere in the room. The monster lifted its bloody muzzle, snarling, ignoring her weak hands scrabbling desperately for its eyes. Something bright swung…
The wolf’s head just… fell off and rolled across the room. Blood fountained from the stump of its neck as it collapsed on top of her. Helena screamed, the sound thin, more wheeze than anything else. Dying… I’m dying…
The monster’s weight was gone, heaving off her. It hit the wall with a wet thump. “Oh, my child,” a resonant female voice said. A white woman stared down at her in worry. Muscular, dressed in some kind of green leather costume, she looked like she could play for the WNBA. Her hair was long and green, braids swinging on either side of her beautiful face, like she was cosplaying Lord of The Rings. She even had the pointed ears.
The Elf sank gracefully to one knee, ignoring the blood spreading around Helena’s body and the decapitated werewolf. She shook her head and sighed. “I wish I’d gotten that vision sixty seconds sooner.”
“Vision?” Helena muttered, staring up at her. “The fuck… happening? Tim? Where’s Tim?” She struggled to lift her head. The pain almost made her scream. “Is he… is he okay?”
The woman’s mouth tightened. “That’s why I’m sorry I’m so late.”
“Help him…” She tried to rise, only to collapse as agony detonated like an IED in her guts. Tears filled Helena’s eyes and began to roll down her face. She didn’t quite manage to bite back the scream. “911,” she gasped. “Call 911…”
“Shhhh.” The woman rested a cool, long-fingered hand on Helena’s forehead. “Here. Perhaps this will help.” The pain dulled, chilled, became bearable. Helena gasped in relief and wonder -- How did she do that?
“Now, let’s do something about the rest.” The Elf extended a hand, held it just over Helena’s mangled, bloody abdomen.
Light flared, so dazzling she had to look away, blinking tears. The cold ache of the injury disappeared, and Helena lifted her head. Dared to look. Her stomach was whole again. “What?” she breathed. “What happened? How… I don’t…” Had she imagined it? Must have. There’s no such thing as werewolves. Or Elves or magic. “Call 911.” That’s the next thing to do. Call it in.
The woman shook her head and lifted her voice. It seemed to echo oddly in the dirty garage. “My Hunter Prince! I’m in need of you. Come to me.”
Helena grabbed the woman’s wrist. “You’ve got to call 911. Tim and me, we’re FBI. Special agents. He needs help.”
Something swelled against her mind, like the atmospheric pressure against her ears from that tornado that barely missed the house when she was a kid. She felt… odd. As if she was a long way from her body. Like she was drugged. Drunk or… Did someone slip me LSD? When? How? I felt fine. Gas leak? Carbon monoxide? I need to get up. I need to call 911. Tim. Oh, God, Tim… Reality tore. She felt it go as a hole in the air opened just past the Elf’s shoulder. The wavering oval blocked her view of a torn Quaker State oil poster. “What?” The word sounded slurred. Her belly was beginning to hurt again, fire building beneath healed skin.
A pair of white people walked through the oval. The man was tall, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, while the woman with him was a head or so shorter, with brilliant copper hair that fell in curls around her shoulders. Unlike the Elf, they were dressed in ordinary jeans and T-shirts. Not the kind of people you’d expect to see walk out of holes in the fucking air.
“Damn!” the woman said, looking around in surprised revulsion. “The hell happened here?”
“Call 911, please… Please?” Helena heard herself begging like a child. “Something’s wrong with me. I think I’m hallucinating. And Tim…” She turned her head.
He lay on his side with his back to her, his jacket flipped up, revealing his pale blue shirt. Blood pooled around his body. There was something about the way he lay that was just wrong. Helena had seen a lot of murder victims. She was looking at one now. Oh, God, Tim…
The dark-haired man crouched beside her. Black eyes met hers. “What’s your name? Mine is Bill Justice.” He indicated the redhead. “This is my wife, Miranda.” He pointed at the Elf. “And that’s Maeve.”
“Special agent… Special agent Helena Baker.” Helena took a deep breath. “Listen to me, you’ve got to call 911. We’re FBI. My partner was murdered. It was the murder of a federal agent. If you don’t call the cops, you could be charged as an accessory.”
Miranda looked up, gaze sharpening. “I hear sirens. The police are on the way. Somebody must’ve heard the screaming.”
Even as Helena’s heart leapt in relief, Maeve said, “Then I will send them away.” She made a casual gesture of one elegant hand.
“No!” Helena cried out, her voice ragged with despair.
“You don’t want them here yet,” Miranda told her kindly. “Not until we’re finished.”
“With what?” What the hell nightmare was this? What am I going to tell Tim’s wife? But as she stared up at the three, an icy thought pierced her confusion. I won’t have to tell her anything, because they’re going to kill me.
“Helena, listen to me,” Justice said, his black eyes boring into hers. “You are about to become a werewolf.”