Page 84 of Demon and the Raven

“No,” I rasped, and Lorne grabbed his rifle and passed me his Glock.

“Climb over here, stay in the car, use that, and if those things get through me, you drive away as fast as you can.”

“You are out of your mind if you think I would ever leave you,” I stated, scrambling out of the car before he could say another word, closing the door gently, afraid to frighten the stag in case it turned and ran from us and toward the creatures.

Lorne exited the same way, quietly, and we crept around the sides of the vehicle, coming together at the front.

“Aim for the middle when those things are close enough,” Lorne instructed.

“Yes,” I answered, seeing him raise the rifle to his shoulder.

“Hopefully the stag will run, but if it doesn’t, we’re not letting them hurt him either.”

“No, we’re not,” I agreed.

With a howl, the creatures flew forward, toward the stag, and Lorne fired, which didn’t do a thing.

Quickly, I got the amalgam out of my pocket, pulled the stopper, dumped it into my lifted hand, and blew hard. “Protect us all from harm.”

My intention was clear, us meaning me and Lorne, the kids, the priest, and the stag. I saw the spell fly through the air and surround the creatures. Their screams were loud, but they didn’t slow, advancing fast.

“Come to me,” I pleaded with the stag, who lifted his head and took a few steps forward, just as a horn blared and a semi-truck struck both monsters, obliterating them in a splash and crunch of blood and bone.

Lorne yelled, so did I, as the eighteen-wheeler sailed by us, fishtailed for a moment, nearly going off the road, but then straightened out, the hydraulic brakes squealing loudly as they tried to bring the massive machine to a stop. It took a good quarter mile, but the truck finally came to a standstill on the shoulder of the highway.

It happened so fast, like being jolted out of a dream, going from sleep to waking with a gasp. The only part that was not a surprise was that the stag was gone. I stared at Lorne, stunned into silence.

“I don’t under— Get in the car,” he barked at me.

Once we were both in and he’d secured his rifle, he made a quick U-turn and drove us down the road to where the trucker had pulled off. His hazards were on, bright in the darkness, bouncing off the wet pavement.

I couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact that we were on interstate 90 west outside of Westfield. That was how far we’d driven. There was no one else around but us and the truck, which made sense, as it was a bit past ten.

Lorne pulled in front of the truck, and we both got out.

“What the hell?” Lorne muttered as we closed in, because what we both had expected to see and what was there were two different things.

There should have been blood, pieces of flesh, anything, but instead, the front of the truck was coated in mud. Thick mud that would need to be hosed off, but still, beyond some branches and debris, there was nothing else.

“Is that the spell?” Lorne asked. “Did it change them?”

“It must have,” I murmured, my voice barely working.

“Evening, Officer,” the trucker greeted Lorne, smiling sheepishly. “Did I scare you all back there? I think there might be some debris on the road that basically exploded when I hit it.” He glanced at the police vehicle. “Doesn’t look like I splattered you.”

“No, we’re fine,” Lorne assured him.

He nodded but didn’t move. “I have flares. I’ll put some out if you need me to stay.”

“Oh, no need.” Lorne had recovered so much faster than I did, as evidenced by his ability to form words. “You hit a big pile of mud, nothing else.”

“I was scared for a second, thought I hit an animal.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t—I could have sworn I saw a deer, but thankfully not,” he rushed out. “I got them deer whistles on my rig just in case. Supposed to work, and knock on wood, I ain’t never hit one in all my years.”

“Hitting one would be dangerous,” Lorne told him.