The werewolf flipped hard into the air and to the side. It lay on the ground, shaking as if it had epilepsy. It took on a haze of magic, which Liz could still see in theseeingworking.
It—she—was shifting shape, becoming human. To heal.
“Son of a witch,” Liz cursed, beneath the deafness. “I needed the special silver rounds.” Which were somewhere else. A different color. Something. She braced her weapon again. Fired. Mostly missed.
She raced down the tree, pulling off her amulet necklace. Watching the wolf shifting to human. Her fingers found the distinctive shape of the only true curse amulet she had ever made. She slid the beads around and removed the pink pig carved from feldspar.
She tossed it onto the writhing furred-naked-skinned-body. And ran back to the cover of the trees.
The curse shattered open. The magic around and inside the wolf stopped.
The wolf went still. All the magic that allowed it to shift was halted. Temporarily. It would start to replenish its magics soon, but for now its shift to human and healed was halted.
She tried to figure out how to open the shotgun and empty out the bullets. Rounds. Whatever. She had never fired a shotgun like this. It wasn’t like the one she had seen Eli use.
“Son of a witch,” she cursed. Her hands were shaking. Guns were basically all alike, right? “How do you open this damn thing?” she whispered.
“Miz Liz,” a voice whispered over her deafness. “Give me the shotgun before you shoot your foot off.”
She looked at Chewy. He looked like he was lying on death’s door. But his hands were steady and he was holding three bullets. Rounds.Shells! That was it.And each had stripes applied with silver marker.
She dropped to her knees and released the ward protecting him. He took the shotgun and stuck in the shells. Aimed at the werewolf. She thought he said, “This is gonna hurt.” He fired. Fired again.
The werewolf went still.
Chewy aimed at a place to her right and said calmly, barely above her hearing, “Don’t make me kill you too, wolf.”
Liz followed the direction of the shotgun and saw Brute. He was staring at her with his teeth and fangs exposed. She rolled inside the circle and keyed on the ward.
Brute hit the ward like a raging bull.
The Grindy landed on his shoulders and sliced into his throat.
“No!” Liz screamed.
Brute flipped backward. Landed on the grindylow. All three hundred plus pounds of massive wolf.
The grindy squealed. Stopped cutting.
Everyone breathed, too fast, too hard.
Eli crested the hill, weapons ready to fire.
He slowed, scanning up into the remaining trees, around the tornado-created clearing.
His eyes met hers, scanning over her for wounds. Evaluated Chewy. Battlefield eyes. Cold, remorseless, determined. Checked on Brute. Said something to the grindy. Bent over the werewolf.
Her hearing must have been coming back online because she heard him say, “Nice shooting, Chewy.” He leaned his head at an odd angle so he could meet the grindy’s eyes. “Any more werewolves?”
The grindy made little spitting sounds and shook its headno. It looked frustrated. And it held it hands up to Eli like a baby. Eli tossed the kitten sized —cat sized, actually—critter up onto his shoulder as if it didn’t have homicidal tendencies and steel claws. It sat on his shoulders like a pet monkey.
Eli knelt at the edge of thehedge of thornsand gave her the smile she always adored.
“We make a good team. Maybe when the world settles down a bit we can take a vacation. Together. One without paranormal critters, blood, danger, and the need for killing things. What do you think about Maui?”
Liz laughed. She sat back on her butt. Laughed some more. “Maui sounds nice.”
“What about me, Hoss?” Chewy said, his closing. “I like Maui.”
