Delilah
The synchronized clomp of boots sent my pulse racing. I lurched around the corner of the dormitory building and dropped into the shadows just as an entire squad of armed handlers jogged around the corner from the building that housed cryptids destined for the hunt.
“What the hell happened?” the man in the lead demanded into his radio. “The stable was standing wide-open. Perkins nearly got trampled by three centaurs and a satyr.”
“The collars are disengaged,” the staticky voice over the radio shouted. “Repeat—the collars are disengaged. Approach with caution and shoot to kill. Lethal forceisauthorized. Don’t take any chances out there, guys.”
“Fuck that.” One of the men stopped jogging, and the others came to a haphazard halt around him. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
The handler in the lead grabbed his man by the edge of his puffy protective vest. “The hell you didn’t. What did you think the hazard pay was for? Now, shut up and keep your eyes open.”
“Do you hear that?” Another handler turned toward the rumble of several engines echoing across the quiet compound. “Backup’s on the way. I think she called in the fucking marines.”
When I realized he was staring toward the parking lot, I gave a silent cheer. Even if Tabitha Vandekamp had called in the marines, that wasn’t what we were hearing.
“The engines are heading away,” one of the other men said. “That’s not backup. It’s deserters!”
Actually, it was the very creatures they’d been sent out to kill, currently stealing their cars in order to escape.
“Let’s go!” the leader shouted, and his men fell back into two lines. When they’d passed me, I stood and peeked around the corner of the building, wishing I’d kept one of the electric batons for myself as I watched the men jog toward the next building.
Shivering in the fall air, I crept behind them into the next unlit patch of grass.
“Stop right where you are!” one of the men shouted, and I went still, terrified for a second that I’d been caught. But the men were all aiming their rifles in the opposite direction—at a satyr and a nymph, frozen in the beam of someone’s flashlight.
Gunfire rang into the night, and I gasped as the defenseless cryptids were shot where they stood. Then the squad of handlers moved on with their mission, heading east across the compound, while I stood shaking in the shadows.
It took at least a minute for me to regain control of my trembling legs and press on, avoiding even a glance at the bodies of my fellow captives as I passed them.
I was a good fifteen feet from the infirmary entrance, still hidden by shadows, when a great, angry screech split the night. The thunder of heavy hooves shook the ground beneath me, and I froze again, my heart pounding.
Human screams rang out from the east, then several were suddenly silenced.
The stampede got louder by the second until a manticore rounded the corner of the arena, its scorpion tail arching ten feet in the air, spiky lion’s mane blowing in the late night breeze. A black-clad human arm was speared on the beast’s stinger, still dripping blood in an arcing pattern as it swayed over the creature’s back.
I backed up until my spine hit the wall of the infirmary, as deep into the shadows as I could get, and I could only watch as beast after beast followed the lion-scorpion hybrid toward the courtyard and the topiary garden.
Three giants and an ogre alternately swapped blows as they fled the arena, and when the ogre got in too good of a punch, one of the giants uprooted a small tree from near the dormitory and swatted him with it.
The ogre flew backward and smashed into the side of the infirmary, on the other side of the entrance. Glass shattered and bricks crumbled down around him, but he was up in a second, brushing chunks of stone from his head and shoulders as he jumped back into the fray.
From near the end of the stampede, a phoenix tried to take flight, holding the corpse of a handler in its claws, but only made it ten feet into the air before its clipped wings brought it crashing to the ground again. It landed on a large lizard of some kind, which opened its mouth as if to screech, but breathed fire instead, singeing the poor bird in a weak imitation of the damage the phoenix would do to itself, at the end of its molting cycle.
From the other direction, voices shouted. Another small squad of handlers rounded the corner of one of the buildings, guns drawn, and began firing. The beasts charged, a bizarre parade of hooves, wings and huge feet. The cacophony was deafening.
As I stared, huddled in the shadows, I heard a familiar voice shouting from the cluster of handlers and recognized Bowman’s profile, lit by a fixture mounted on the corner of the infirmary’s roof. He lifted his rifle and charged into the fray, firing at the manticore.
I clamped one hand over my own mouth to hold back a scream of warning when I saw a terrifying silhouette rise out of the darkness behind him. With a great grunt, the giant swung the tree he’d uprooted.
The tangle of limbs struck Bowman in the chest with a sickening crack of bone and the splintering of wood. His padded body flew into the side of the dormitory fifty feet away, then crumpled to the ground.
Crisp leaves rained all around, ripped free by the force of the blow. I ran for the infirmary entrance, desperate to both escape the slaughter and to avoid seeing any more of it.
The door closed behind me and I leaned against it in the darkened foyer, my eyes closed, panting from my sprint after weeks of inadequate exercise. Between the noise from outside and the pounding of my heart in my ears, I didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until they were almost upon me.
“Freeze, freak! Get down on the ground!”
I opened my eyes to find three handlers standing on the other end of the infirmary foyer, aiming automatic rifles at me in what light poured from the open manager’s office. The rest of the building was dark and quiet. Had Gallagher already evacuated it?
