I barely registered what I was seeing before the world caught up with reality.
Professor Quinn feigned a step back, and the demon surged forward. The action gave him the space to dip and turn while the stolas stumbled forward. I yelped as the stolas careened, only bringing its attention back to me. A wide beak parted, and yellow eyes gleaming with malevolent intent zeroed in on prey.
A swift kick to the ribs as Luther deftly spun around sent the creature sailing off its trajectory. The oversized bird landed in the grass on all four, swinging its long neck and round head to the professor. It stomped a talon-tipped wing on the ground and bellowed at him.
But the professor simply turned his razor-sharp attention to me. Eyes dark and expression strained, he snarled, “Ophelia, run!”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
Heart pounding, gasps punching through my lungs, I pushed off the ground and fumbled into a panicked run. I pulled my bag to my chest as if it might shield me from further terrors and sprinted across the haze-obscured quad. I didn’t pass a single sign of life from any of the various buildings on campus. No one hiding in the overhang of the science building or couples kissing behind the theater office. Not a single soul.
No obstacles to my escape.
Whoosh.
The air lifted my hair. Goosebumps flared down my neck and across my arms.
I looked up as a shadow soared overhead.
Yellow eyes stared back.
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.
Upon being spotted, the bird announced itself with deep hoots in a stuttering rhythm. The sound of it sickened me to the marrow of my bones.
Hoo-HOO-hoo-hoo.
The parking lot split through the gloom. I didn’t have the wherewithal to question where everyone had gone or why my car was the only one left, sitting alone under a flickering lamppost. Those thoughts had no bearing on the fear pounding in place of my heart and the will to live begging me to run faster, faster,faster.
Whoosh.
I ducked my head, nearly slipping on the loose gravel at the edge of the parking lot. Peering over my shoulder, I saw a great horned owl rapidly swooping back around. Not a stolas, but stillthe very embodiment of an aggressive nighttime hunter, and it would strike me from above if I didn’t find shelter.
My car came within reach.
I shoved my hand into my bag, fumbling for my car keys.
Alarm made me dizzy, clumsy. I couldn’t find my keys to save my life, and that wasexactlywhat I needed them for. Instead of driving away to safety, I would have my eyes gouged out by a goddamn bird!
The hooting beside my head stopped. I still flinched, pressing my body low and firmly into the side of my car with an arm over my head.
A wet squelch and garbled noise made my stomach curdle.
Lowering my arm and standing, I met the gaze of a furious professor. Luther stood above the carcass of the horned owl, chest heaving with each breath, several loose curls of black hair flopping over his eyes, and a snarl smeared on his lips.
The dagger in his clenched fist dripped with blood.
“What the fuck are you still doing out here?” he barked. “In the dark, really?”
I felt like a chastised child and kept myself pressed against my car. My head shook as words failed to come. As terrified as I was, I barely felt the hot tears streaking down my face or the hammering drum of my heart bruising my ribs.
He huffed, and his expression scrunched into one of fathomless fury. Horror kept me in place, watching helplessly as my professor wiped a blood-coated blade on his pants leg and smeared the viscous ichor into his trousers. I couldn’t even blink, observing as he returned the blade to a hidden holster under his coat before he turned on me.
Professor Quinn must have noticed the tears then.
His mask softened, and his shoulders dropped. He sighed softly before dragging a hand through his already tousled hair. He took a step, and I reacted with an instinctive cringe. Not thatI feared him, or his acts of violence, but because the sense of fear had hooked claws into me and refused to let go.
“Come on, Ophelia, let’s get you home.” His voice had gentled, and his motions slowed. He moved as if approaching a skittish animal, and perhaps that was exactly what I was. But I didn’t fight him when he pried my car keys from my terrified, iron grip on them.
