He nods. “The fae, of any kind, can always find each other.”
I try for a bit longer, but honestly, I’m too distracted by Oran. I can’t begin to count the number of guys I’ve turned down who stride into the bar, smile at me, and want to take me for a ride—in every sense of the word. Oran didn’t even say please, yet here I am hunting a monster with him. I glance up at him. He’s concentrating on the building.
His face is angular, strong, and proud. When he’s not smiling, he looks gruff, but that could be the beard. He jerks his chin to the right and starts crossing the road.
I follow, holding my bat like it’ll save my ass against a newyn. I don’t even know what the monster looks like. I’ve seen things before, but I was told to keep my gaze lowered so my eyes don’t give me away. My parents told me just enough to keep me safe.
We slide into the shadows of the building. I hear something scrabbling about, but it could be rats or litter tumbling down the road. I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Is it watching us?”
“Probably.” He doesn’t turn to look at me.
“Want some light?” I’m hoping to catch a glint of the newyn’s eyes.
He nods.
I turn on the torch and trace the light over the side of the building. Nothing. I continue my sweep, moving higher with each pass. I almost glide right over it.
I wish I had. Fear turns my blood to ice and my stomach scrunches into a ball, making me feel like hurling. There’s a difference between hunting a monster and seeing a monster. My bravado and excitement slinks away, leaving me numb.
Skeletal feet, with talons as long as my fingers curl over the edge of the roof. The figure is swathed in black and from beneath the hood, too large gold eyes peer out above a hooked beak. It cries out, then swoops toward us.
I duck. Oran remains standing, he swings the blade. The tips of a few feathers flutter to the ground. Then the thing lands on the opposite building.
“What the fuck is that?” My heart is beating so fast I’m sure it’s going to explode.
“Newyn.”
It looks like a part-living, part-skeleton owl wrapped up in a raggedy black cloak made of feathers. I will never sleep again without seeing that thing swooping at me with talons extended.
I glance at Oran. “You could’ve warned me that it looks like it should be dead.”
“It wasn’t important. What is important is killing it before it grows any stronger.”
“How do we do that?” When the newyn is a living skeleton?
“I either behead it or shoot it.” Oran’s attention is on the monster. He holds the sword ready like it’s part of him.
“So why are you using a sword when a gun will be quicker?”
He gives me a look like he’s ever so disappointed. “Because it has no body, it’s feathers and bone, so it has to be a head shot or nothing.”
“And?” To me it seems shooting the monster in the head is better than going after a flying bag of bones with a sword.
“And pistols are only accurate at close range, and I don’t want to get up close to it again.” He lifts his arm. “I had to buy a new jacket after it shredded the last one and my arm.”
“There’s a rifle under the bar.” I’ve never had to use it, but it’s nice to know it’s there.
“That shoots lead bullets, not silver. This,” he taps the pistol at his side. “Is modified to kill creatures of faery.”
“But not at a distance. Why not modify a rifle?”
“Harder to ride around with,” he says, holding a massive fucking sword. Pretty sure the cops would not ignore that weapon.
“So what do we do now?” It’s up there, probably laughing at us.
“This ends tonight. It’s getting braver. I don’t want it turning a town into a brawl.”
My bat is not up to the job of going after the monster. I give Oran a sideways glare. “Am I the bait?”
