“Grindylow!” Liz shouted, calling the were-killer-creature. “Werewolf at the pool!”
In a flash the kittycat killer disappeared.
“What!” Cia demanded. “What did you see?”
“There’s a werewolf on the far side of the falls from Eli.”
Cia cursed.
Eli
He swung the weapon.Too late. Too late. Too latehammered at his brain.
A second motion ripped across in front of his field of vision. A bright light. Aswishof sound. A grindylow hit the firstthingin midair, directly over the center of the pool. Splashed down.
Disappeared into the water.
Son of a bitch.
Waterfall, poison, hole, bones, ax, and a chain. And a fucking werewolf.
Eli felt along the cell wall under the waterfall, the water soaking him. He felt a depression—the cave opening. He pulled a padded bag from his gear, opened it for easy access, and sucked five more deep breaths, blowing out hard each time, filling his body with oxygen and blowing out carbon dioxide and his body’s reaction to the werewolf. Just enoughhyperventilation to give himself a bit of nonbreathing room. Two minutes. He could hold his breath for two minutes. Under ideal circumstances. That almost made him laugh.
He stepped into the cave. It was black as pitch. Keeping one eye closed, he flicked on the small tactical flashlight and inserted it into his mouth, lips closed around it. Even without taking a breath, it stank like brimstone. His eyes, even the closed one, watered. His skin felt as if flames and dry ice coated his body at the same time. The burned place on his arm where the firepit exploded ached as if it was on fire again. Scorching and frigid.
The walls of the cave were covered with dead vegetation. Slimy water dripped down through the dry, brittle mosses. The stones were sharp, and he had no idea how Lizzie had walked in here barefoot. It had to be a stone witch thing. Carefully, he moved into the cave and shined his light into the bottom of the pit. Eli slung the shotgun back out of the way and pulled his vamp-killer with his left hand and his ten-mil with his right. He lay down on the edge of the pit, checked the cave opening.Nothing. No werewolves.
He turned back to the pit and stretched out the vamp-killer. Adjusted the flashlight with his teeth and tongue. Easing closer over the four-foot-deep hole, more of his body mass over the pit. His legs on the broken stones. The point of the blade barely touched the copper chain lying tangled on the muddy bottom. Gently he slid it toward him, the sound of ancient copper and modern steel and silver clanking dully. When the chain was directly below him, he checked the cave opening:Clear.Using the vamp-killer point, he dragged five bone fragments to him. They looked like toe or finger bones. Maybe a batch of both. But they were small and kept sliding past the tip of the blade until they were close enough for him to tilt the vamp-killer and use a wider part of the blade. It took too long. He could hold his breath for two minutes. Under ideal conditions.
His breath was going. He glanced back at the cave opening. A figure crouched, the falling water moving behind it. Shock raced through him. He lifted the Glock. Stopped.It was small. Not a were. A grindylow.Twelve pounds of adorable killer, looking like a soaking wet, pissed-off cat. A cat that had just saved his life. And was guarding the entrance.
Feeling a lot safer, but a lot more breathless, Eli went back to the taskat hand. Placed the vamp-killer beside the Glock 20. Forced away the need to breathe. Fought the desire to take that desperate breath. He pulled out the contents from the small open bag—six folded handkerchiefs. He hoped the padding would be enough. He levered his body over the edge. Lowered his upper body down.
The position was too much for his lungs. He exhaled. Inhaled. The coughing started, which made him breathe faster. The nausea hit his system. The poison part of theWaterfall, poison, hole, bones, ax, and a chain.
With the handkerchiefs, he picked up the bone fragments and placed them on the cave floor. It took too long. The coughing was worsening. Through the folded cloth he could feel the energies of the bones. Sick, burning.
More carefully he picked up one of the rectangular plates and lifted the chain into the air. Sat up. Shined the light over the chain until he found a lose link. With the handkerchiefs protecting his skin from the worst of the magics, he twisted the link free. Coughing harder. Fighting the need to vomit in the midst of the coughing, which could cause him to aspirate.
Eli tossed the chain back into the pit; it landed with a dull clank near where it had been. With the folded cloths, he placed the link and the bones into the padded pouch. Zipped it closed. Caught sight of his fingers in the flashlight. White tipped, like frostbite.
He picked up his weapons. Made his way to the cave opening. The grindylow didn’t move and Eli didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He removed the tactical flashlight and clicked it off, while leaning out through the waterfall, letting it drench his head and back, and he coughed the poison out of his lungs. A couple dozen more coughs. Good clean air. He swore softly.This sucks.He breathed deeply again, held it, and pulled back inside the cave. He made sure his treasures were safe, holstered the Glock, and took a firm grip on the cave wall. As he left the cave, he leaned out and let the icy water wash the brimstone stink, the accumulated toxins, and his own sweat off him. Washed the poison out of his eyes. Took in water, swished, and spit. Coughed and breathed.
Dripping, he stepped to the side of the waterfall, changed out his weapons for the shotgun, and made his way to the edge of the cave, near the tree with roots like steps going downstream. On the roots was ahuman-shaped body, cut and slashed as if a dozen attackers had cut him to pieces. Eli knew he had to report it to Lincoln Shaddock. This was Linc’s hunting territory. The vamp would have to handle all the were bodies.
The grindy, looking like a cute kitten, scampered in his wake.
Liz
Eli appeared at the edge of the clearing and dropped a small pack. He was soaked to the skin. He looked ashy with oxygen loss. He was breathing hard and fast, holding his shotgun in one hand and another small bag in the other. He slung back the gun, hefted the bag, and took something in his thumb and forefinger. He asked, “You ready?” His voice was raspy and sounded pained.
The demon turned to Eli. It roared. It lumbered across the clearing.
“Now!” Eli shouted.
Thehedgedropped. Eli sprinted to his left. The demon pivoted to follow, growing another leg for leverage. With his off hand, Eli tossed something small to the side of the demon. With his other hand, he swung back like a softball pitcher and chucked the bag into the firepit. It landed in Liz’s lap.
Thehedge of thornsblazed back up.
