As the branch charred, his gaze trailed to the gap in the trees where Alfonso had last stood. He should have been back by now. Felipe half rose before catching himself. That was probably what Alfonso wanted, for him to call out in panic because he couldn’t handle being alone for five minutes. Scooting closer to the fire, Felipe warmed his hands until his palms prickled with pain. He wouldn’t give his cousin the satisfaction of panicking. When Felipe pulled back just shy of burning, footsteps scuffed down the goat trail.
Finally, Felipe thought without looking up from stoking the fire. It wasn’t until all the crickets fell silent and he caught a whiff of rot over the campfire that he knew something was amiss. Swallowing hard,Felipe raised his gaze and found a monster the likes of which he had never seen standing just inside the ring of the firelight. What had once been hooves had shattered into ragged nails on feet that were not quite human, and the body atop the two too-human legs was the same grey-black as the goat he had seen his uncle lead through the gate, though its skin and bones had been mutilated by the demon’s sudden transformation. Its horns now curled forward like an elephant’s tusks, and what had once been a goat’s head had twisted into the sharp, focused face of a predator. The snout had grown longer and almost lupine with sharp canines extending past a gleaming row of flat teeth that could break bone. The creature still had the goat’s golden eyes, but the slit pupils and the intelligence behind those eyes as they tracked Felipe’s movements belonged to the demon wearing its skin.
Felipe slowly stood, his hand inching toward the wicked knife on his hip.Wrong. Wrong. Wrong, his brain screamed as he slid the blade from its sheath without taking his eyes off the creature. Suddenly, every weapon or technique at his disposal seemed useless in the face of something from another world that had caught and killed a coyote. When Felipe took a slow step back toward the ridge, the creature stepped closer to the flame as if the heat meant nothing to it.
His voice caught in his throat as he tried to call, “Al— Alfonso—”
The demon’s fingers flexed, revealing four raptor-like talons on each hand made for rending flesh from bone. Felipe slowly shifted his weight onto his back foot and called for his cousin again, this time louder, but Alfonso never came. The first strike came so fast he nearly missed it in the glare of the flame. Embers singed Felipe’s legs as the demon surged through the fire. Its talons screeched against Felipe’s blade as he met it blow for blow. He ducked under its arm and slashed. For a moment, he thought he had missed until the demon turned its head toward him and let out a rough, dry roar that rang from the pits of hell. Felipe had barely twisted away when the creature struck again. It leapt forward, catching him in the side with its claws as he parried its other hand. Felipe hit the ground hard but rolled back to his feet out of reach.
Where was Alfonso? He couldn’t risk taking his eyes off the beast to look, but he hadn’t heard screaming or the telltale sounds of violence. He knew that meant little when a demon was involved. Still, why hadn’t he returned? Felipe ducked and swiped the moment he had an opening, praying his cousin would appear before the creature wore him out. He hoped Alfonso was merely waiting for an opening to jump in, but a little voice still wondered if he was dead. He couldn’t imagine why else Alfonso wasn’t at his side.
Felipe surged forward, cutting deep into the creature’s hide. Black sludge oozed from the wound, hissing as it hit the ground and dissolved. The second the blow landed he knew it had been a mistake. The creature’s eyes sharpened as it stalked forward. Ichor leaked from its side with every step, but it didn’t seem to matter. Felipe backed up. If he made a break for it in either direction, it would grab him; he could see it in its eyes. He needed Alfonso. He needed him to pounce on the creature’s back to give him an opening. This was why they always went out in groups.
Felipe’s foot hit nothing but loose earth. For a heartstopping moment, his foot dangled in empty air before he caught himself and shifted into a crouch. The demon had walked him to the edge of the ridge.Stupid, my ass, Felipe thought bitterly. This far from their camp all he could make out were the beast’s eyes gleaming in the darkness and the warm glow of the fire over its shoulder. Felipe raised his knife and waited for the demon to fling itself at him when something stepped from the shadows of the trees.Alfonso. Felipe’s heart leapt with relief, but the other man never moved. He merely watched as the demon collided with Felipe’s chest, its talons puncturing his flesh as they went over the edge together in a tangle of flesh and fur.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Precious Things
Oliver awoke to the sound of a door slamming. At least, he was fairly sure that was what woke him. He had been having a stress-dream about the butcher being out of meat for Felipe and having to exhaust the Paranormal Society’s cheese supply with more ridiculous lies, and the woman who ran the kitchen slammed the door in his face right when he woke up. Oliver groaned and shoved his face into the pillow. Most of his stress-dreams were about forgetting corpses in the preservation drawers until they were skeletons floating in organ soup, but somehow, this one was worse. Turning onto his side to reach for Felipe’s comforting warmth, he found the bed empty and the coverlet thrown back. Oliver shot up. The door to their bedroom was open, but he didn’t think that had been the sound that woke him. Where was Felipe? A wave of guilt washed over him at the way he handled Felipe’s concerns the previous night. They should have talked it out more. Something was bothering him, and now, he was gone. Oliver scrambled out of bed, stuffing his feet into his shoes and throwing hisbathrobe over his pajamas. The ring hanging from his neck thudded against his chest as he took the stairs two at a time to the darkened foyer.
“Felipe?” he called louder than he intended.
The floor creaked overhead in Gwen’s bedroom a moment before her bonneted head appeared in the hall haloed in lamplight. “What is with the yelling and banging? Do you know what time it is?”
“I’m looking for Felipe. I woke up, and he wasn’t in bed. I told him not to go outside without me at night, but…” Oliver let out a frustrated huff as Gwen came down and followed him through the dining room. “I can’t sleep not knowing where he is.”
“You know he’s probably outside using the facilities or sneaking a snack.”
“I hope so, but I’m worried, Gwen. He was upset with me before bed, and I know something is going on with him, only he won’t tell me what it is. I—”
The words died on his lips as they reached the kitchen. The back door stood open, banging against the kitchen wall in time with each leaf-laden gust. That had been the noise. Oliver ran outside. It was so dark he could scarcely see, but something felt wrong. Felipe didn’t just leave doors open. Oliver’s mind jumped to Sheriff Ridder breaking into the Stills’s home. He hadn’t heard anything inside, but— A flash of light near the trees caught his eye, disappearing as quickly as it came.
“There he is!” Gwen cried, pointing as the glint appeared a second time.
Oliver could just make out a Felipe-shaped shadow crossing the yard, but he was nowhere near the outhouse this time. Anger rose in Oliver’s breast at the realization that Felipe had gone off without himagainand that the previous time probably hadn’t been an innocent trip to the bathroom either. They were going to have a long discussion about this.
Pressing the oil lamp into his hand, Gwen nudged him back into motion. “Go get him. I don’t have shoes on.”
Oliver stomped through the grass toward his partner, vacillatingwildly between anger and relief. He didn’t want to yell and wake up Mr. Allen, so he called to Felipe in a stage whisper. But Felipe kept moving. He bobbed and weaved as if dancing to an unseen tune. It wasn’t until Oliver was nearly on top of him that he realized he held averylarge knife in his hand. Running ahead of him, Oliver called his name again, but Felipe didn’t seem to hear it. Every motion was exaggerated and slow, as if he moved underwater. The way he held his knife wasn’t quite right and neither was his stance, but what scared Oliver most was the way his face twisted with anguish with each slash and parry. Whatever he saw, it wasn’t Oliver.
“Felipe!” Oliver yelled as he leapt out of range of the next strike. “Felipe, wake up!”
“Is everything all right?” Gwen called.
“No, but stay where you are. He’s sleepwalking, and he has a weapon.”
Felipe jerked like he had been struck and murmured something under his breath in pained Spanish. For a brief moment, his movements slowed, and his hand hovered in the air. Now, was his chance. Setting the lamp on the ground, Oliver slipped behind Felipe and grabbed his arm. He had taught Oliver how to disarm someone, and while Awake-Felipe never would have let go, Oliver had surprise and agility on his side for once in his life.
“Drop it!” Oliver gritted as Felipe bucked wildly against him.
He pried his fingers off the hilt one-by-one, and when the knife hit the ground, Oliver quickly put his foot over the blade without letting go of his partner’s arm. Felipe thrashed and tried to wrench from his grip, but with each attempt, the words streaming from his lips slipped further into the incoherent, breathy babble of the wounded. His body locked and stiffened beneath Oliver’s hands. Turning Felipe toward him, Oliver watched in horror as Felipe’s eyes went wide with terror and his mouth parted in a silent scream.
“Felipe! Felipe! Look at me. It’s Oliver. Wake up,” he yelled into his ear, giving Felipe’s shoulders a less than gentle shake. “You’re having a nightmare.”
Fear coiled around Oliver’s heart as Felipe’s eyes rolled back in his head. He hoped to god this was just a nightmare and not some form of compulsion. He needed to snap him out of it. He didn’t want to slap him or douse him with water, but he would if he had to. Grabbing the soft flesh on the back of Felipe’s arm, Oliver pinched it as hard as he could. Felipe hissed with pain, but when he opened his eyes this time, the bubble of delusion seemed to burst. Oliver let out a sigh of relief as Felipe’s body relaxed beneath his palms and he looked around the yard in confusion.
“Where is it?” Felipe asked, his voice rough as if he had been yelling or crying.
