“It’s hideous,” Wrenbreathed.
I sliced away another tentacle, but one slid past me toward Wren. Before I could blink, it slithered around her arm and yanked her forward. Releasing a bellow of fury, I hacked it off her and raced forward to leap at themacharah.
I dodged the tentacles trying to latch onto me as, on my descent, I plunged my talons into the spongy flesh of the macharah and sliced downward. Blood spilled around me; unrecognizable things tumbled from its stomach to scatter around my feet. I dodged the obstacles the stomach contents created to slash at the macharahagain.
Screeching, the macharah reeled backward and battered its tentacles against me. I grunted when a couple of my ribs gave way with a crack before digging my talons deeper into the remains of the macharah’s belly. I pulled my hands apart, tearing the creature open from side to side. It gave up trying to beat me off and retreated down the porch steps. Rain lashed my face, flattened my hair to my skin, and poured down me as I followed the macharah into thestorm.
It had hurtWren. It would not leave herealive.
A savagery unlike any I’d ever known boiled through my veins as I repeatedly tore at the creature until the macharah faltered and slumped toward the ground. The clicking of its teeth stopped, some of its tentacles rose lazily before flopping down. I found myself kneeling on the macharah’s flayed remains as they turned to liquid around me. Swept up in the downpour, the last bits of the macharah were washed away bytherain.
My shoulders heaved as I lifted my head to take in the night. The freezing rain pelting the ground formed puddles and ran in streams down the street. I pushed my dripping hair away from my forehead as I searched for more enemies amid the swaying trees and abandoned homes. Lightning tore across the sky in a zigzagging pattern that caused the air to crackle withelectricity.
The wild ferocity of the night matched my mood as waves of thunder punched the air in rapid succession. I took a steadying breath to try calming the need to destroy that continued to race through my veins and rose tomyfeet.
Already working to repair themselves, my healing ribs snapped into place. I turned back to the house to find Wren standing in the doorway with her knife in hand. I doubted much unsettled Wren, but as I stalked toward her, she edged away from the door,andme.
“Are you okay?” I demanded as I climbed the stairstowardher.
“I’m… I’m fine,” she stammered. “What about you? Thatthing,it—”
“It’sdead.”
I shoved some of the partially digested remains that had spilled from the macharah, out the door with my foot. Grabbing the door handle, I lifted the door and settled it into place to close itagain.
“Do you think there’s more of them out there?” shewhispered.
“No. They usually hunt solo, and they would have scared off any other demons or seal creaturescloseby.”
“Good.”
“We have to go. There may not be any more threats nearby, but this place has beencompromised.”
“I know somewhere else we can go,” she said. “I’ll berightback.”
She spun away from me and ran into the living room. I watched as she snatched a cushion from the couch, sliced it with her knife and yanked the cover off. Stuffing the cover under her arm, she raced into the kitchen and flung open the cabinetdoors.
She shoved the food and water into the cover, blew out the candles, and dumped them in too. She dropped the box of matches into one of her empty jars, recapped it, and shoved it into hermakeshiftbag.
I took the cushion from her when she returned to the doorway. When I stepped aside, she slid by me and out the door. The wind whipped her hair around her as she ran over to the terracotta plant, lifted it, and shattered it off the porch. Lifting a piece of broken pot, she slashed lines across the numbers before dropping it. She returned to the broken door and shoved it further open, making it clear that this place was nolongersafe.
She didn’t protest when I took her hand and led her into the storm. Her eyes scanned the surrounding homes as we raced down the road. Water splashed up around us as we ran, plastering our clothes to us. We were halfway down the street when she tugged on my hand andpointed.
“There!”
I barely heard her shout as the wind and rain stole the word from her, but I saw the small brick house she pointed toward. Lifting her, I held her against my chest as I bolted down the walkway and up the steps of the porch with her. The macharah most likely had chased everything else away from here, but I had to hold her and feel her against me right now. That thing had tried to take her from me, and there were so many other things out here that wanted to dothesame.
My feet didn’t touch the steps as I leapt onto the porch. Wren’s wet hair stuck to my neck and face when she squeezed my shoulders and squirmed in my arms. “It’s safe,” she said. “You can putmedown.”
“You don’tknowthat.”
She pointed behind me, and I turned to look at the numbers carved into the wooden roof over the stairs. The last date was from two weeks ago. “There are two safe houses in this town,” Imurmured.
“Yes,”shesaid.
I set her down but kept my arm around her waist. Gripping the doorknob, I turned to study the night once more, but all I saw was the endless rain. The lightning illuminated the night, but it didn’t reveal any enemies comingtowardus.
When I turned back to the house, another burst of lightning illuminated the number twenty-five on the mailbox hanging next to the door. I twisted the knob, and rested my shoulder against the door to shove it open when the swollen wood stuck for a second. The door gave way and swung open with a squeak of rustedhinges.
