Edge of Hunger (9 page)

But then a strange, fertile scent hit his nose, and he pulled his hands away from his face, squinting at the dark smear of dirt on his palms.

What the hell?

Suspicions mounting, he started to roll up into a sitting position when a cramp hit his gut, vicious and sharp, doubling him over. His lips pulled back over his teeth, body curling into a fetal position there on the sweat-damp sofa, muscles tensing as spasm after torturous spasm coiled through him, contorting him like a seizure. It felt like something inside of him was trying to force its way out, punching against his insides.

A raw, graveled cry of pain ripped out of his chest, and he struggled to hold himself together, afraid to let go and surrender to the thing inside that was doing everything it could to tear its way through, struggling to take control of his body. It scared the shit out of him, the possibility of what he might become, the things he might do, if the darkness battled its way to the surface.

Cursing, Ian twisted as another violent spasm shot through him, fiery and hot and painful, and the silver casing of his cell phone lying on the coffee table flashed at the corner of his eye.

Riley! That was it. He needed to call his brother. Needed him there. God only knew what would happen if he couldn't hold it in, couldn't keep it together. Horrific images from the scene of Kendra's murder flashed through his mind, ripping through the landscape of his terror like a scythe, thrashing and destructive. Gritting his teeth, he lunged for the phone, reaching out with his right hand, shouting when he saw that the tips of his fingers were bleeding. Razor-sharp talons slowly pierced through his callused fingertips, the bones in his hand expanding, musculature thickening, exactly the way it had in his nightmares. With horrified eyes, he watched as the blood ran down the back of his hand, over the heavy veins pumping beneath his skin, down his thick wrist, matting in the hairs on his arm.

Christ, he was turning into a goddamn, son of a bitching monster!

No. Not monster. Merrick.

No sooner had Ian thought the word, than his last dream came rushing back at him, and he remembered what the creature had said. Remembered its threat against Molly. And if he'd been able to slip into a dream with her again, fucking her, feeding from her, then she was probably still in Henning. Still close. And in a shitload of danger.

"He's going after her," he gasped, panting, seething...knowing only that he had to get to her first.

He lifted his head, his lip curling as a low, aggressive snarl broke from his throat. The next thing Ian knew, he was rushing from the apartment, out into the unusually humid night, the air close and damp against his skin, a faint scent of electricity in the air. Thunder rumbled in the distance as a violent summer storm rolled its way in, eerily reminiscent of the dream with Molly. Vaulting over the banister of the second-story walkway, he landed in a low crouch on the warm asphalt of the apartment parking lot, knees bent, one hand flat against the ground between his legs for balance. The gritty tarmac was damp against the bare soles of his feet, the thick shadows of the night mysteriously brightened with a faint, luminous glow. The rational part of his brain knew that he shouldn't be able to see so clearly, just as it knew that the leap from the second story should have injured him, but he sprang into motion. His body felt more alive, more powerful than ever before, the adrenaline pumping through his system as addictive as it was empowering.

Speeding across the empty street, Ian raced toward the thick, looming rise of trees, hurtling himself into the thicket of the forest, knowing it was the quickest way to reach Molly.

Branches scratched at his arms and face, but he didn't let it slow him down. The heavy muscles in his thighs powered him forward, just as they had in his dreams, where he was running toward the heat of the gypsy campfire. Lightning crackled like the earsplitting blast of a shotgun, echoing through the forest, while he raced through the dense woods, somehow managing to see with only a silvery thread of moonlight to guide him, as if it were merely the beginnings of dusk and not the dead of night.

He'd already covered a good half mile with amazing speed, when a stark, familiar cry pierced the air, coming from up ahead. He stopped running, slowing to a halt beneath the milky weight of the moon, the night closing in around him like a curious swarm of specters, slithering against his skin, slinking around the backs of his ears...across his nape. Pulling back his shoulders, aware that the thing inside of him wanted to respond to that bestial howl, wanted to claw its way to the surface and battle the enemy itself, he waited. Knowing it was on its way. Tilting back his head, Ian pulled in its rank stench with senses more powerful than they should have been, sharp and precise, revealing the pulse of the forest to the predator that lurked within him.

Electricity flashed across the ink-black sky with the fury of an explosion as the first drops of rain began to fall. It soaked into his shirt, wetting his hair, running over his face and arms in cold, wet trails, and still he stood there, waiting, unmoving. And then finally, he saw it, stalking out from between two gnarled pines. Terror settled heavily into his gut. In that moment, the helplessness of childhood fears wrapped him in a cold, suffocating hold, just as they had when he was a kid, waking at night to the creaking of the old house he'd grown up in. He'd always been certain there was a monster hiding in his closet, and too afraid to confront his demons, he'd spent restless hours huddled beneath his covers, shaking with terror.

Pathetic, that at the age of thirty-two, after everything he'd been through, he could be so easily transported back to that time. That after all the hard years of rough, desperate living--

of trying to hide from what he'd always feared was inside of him--it'd all caught up to him in the end.

"I can smell your fear, Merrick," it growled, stalking closer, the rain slipping off its furless body in a silvery stream, giving a slimy cast to the grayish skin beneath, when Ian knew, from his dream, that it was actually dry to the touch. The physical details of the creature perfectly matched the ones from his nightmare. Ridged spine topped by broad, hunched shoulders.

Thick muzzle and long, curving claws. Wolflike head, with a tall body covered in leathery, pale gray skin. At nearly seven feet in height and packed with dense, powerful muscle, it lived up to every expectation of evil he'd ever had, complete with piercing, ice-blue eyes.

His heart clenched at the thought of Kendra, knowing how terrified she must have been during the minutes she'd spent with this monster, before she finally drew her last breath.

"I'm surprised you have the balls to face me," it rasped in a gritty, demonic drawl, the garbled words distorted by the muzzled shape of its mouth. "Especially after seeing what I did to sweet little Kendra."

Choking back a low growl of outrage, Ian set his feet and braced himself against the inevitable attack he knew was coming, the razor-sharp talons piercing his fingertips his only weapon--and one he planned on using. He wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction of chasing him down. Even if it ripped him to pieces, he was at least going to die holding his ground.

Lightning cracked again, striking a nearby tree, and the Casus leaped into the air at the same instant, kicking out at him with both feet, the powerful blow connecting with Ian's chest and knocking him backward. The air burst from his lungs as the jarring, dizzying strike slammed him into the rain-soaked ground, the pine needles beneath his back in no way cushioning the impact when the beast landed on top of him, pinning him with its crushing weight. It immediately went for his throat, jaws gaping, saliva dripping from those long, lethal fangs set within pale pink gums.

Determined to fight as dirty as he needed to, Ian lifted one knee, slamming it into the bastard's balls, at the same time he reached for its eyes, ready to sink his talons deep. But it reared back, snarling, and Ian was able to lift his right leg enough to kick at its head, knocking it off balance. He rolled across the soggy ground, quickly scrambling to his feet, its claws slashing across his left bicep as it came at him in a blur of preternatural strength and speed.

He fought with everything he had, but it wasn't enough. It was too strong, too powerful, weathering his blows with little effort.

He was only holding it at bay, prolonging the inevitable, unable to inflict as much damage as it delivered with ridiculous ease, another swift claw strike catching him along his ribs, down his right-hand side. Ian knew, instinctively, that the only way he could hold his own was to release the thing inside of him. Desperate to confront the Casus on its own, it punched against his resistance with enough force to leave him feeling as battered within as he felt without. But he couldn't do it, too afraid of what he would become...of what he might do if he gave in.

The sky rumbled, the rain coming down in a driving sheet as the creature came at him in another swift flurry of blows that he struggled to deflect, barely avoiding the long, lethal slash of its claws as they swung toward his throat. Suddenly throwing its weight against him, it slammed him into the rough trunk of a thick pine. Chuffing its foul breath in his face, it leaned forward, going nose to nose with him, his own mysteriously glowing eyes reflected back at him in the clear black depths of its dilated pupils.

"You're not wearing the talisman," it muttered, lowering that ice-blue gaze to his throat, as if looking for something. Ian struggled against its hold, and its gaze lifted as a slow, syrupy smile spread across the grotesque horror of its mouth. "You know, the brunette bitch called to you for help. When I was buried deep inside her, she cried and begged for you...but you weren't there."

"You son of a bitch," he snarled, rage engulfing him in a black, murderous wave that seeped through his pores, coating his insides. Ian tried to shove against its shoulders, but its skin was too slippery and smooth, the rain-slick surface impossible to hold.

"Wonder if your new little blond will beg for you the same way? Pathetic, when you think about it. How can you be expected to save them, when you can't even save yourself?"

"You won't fucking touch her!" he roared, struggling to break free as it pinned his shoulders to the trunk.

"Oh, yeah, and who's going to stop me? You?" It threw back its head and laughed, closing one claw-tipped hand around his throat, a fraction away from cutting off his air. "Please. The second I decide she dies, she dies. It's as simple as that. She'll bleed out, screaming for you, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

Ian drew in a short, shuddering breath, clawing at its wrist, while a red haze clouded his vision. It was building inside of him, a vile, vicious fury unlike anything he'd ever known, surging up from the darkest, deadliest depths of his soul. He could feel it rushing up through him, gaining speed, gaining power. This time, instead of fighting it, he went with it, releasing the air from his lungs just as he felt the moment of transformation drawing nearer...almost there.

With a deep, guttural growl vibrating under his breath, he eyed the silvery stretch of the bastard's throat, his tongue curling around the deadly point of one elongating incisor as his fangs slipped free. He could already taste the kill, his blood surging at the thought of tearing out that exposed flesh, the darkness inside of him rising so close to the surface he could feel it stretching beneath his skin.

But before he could strike, the Casus suddenly stepped away from him, releasing its hold. Its massive head tilted back, the rain splattering across its hideous face, nostrils flared as it sniffed once...twice. The black smear of its upper lip pulled back in a snarl, the sadistic rumbling of sound surging up from the depths of its chest.

It looked back toward Ian, and shook its monstrous head, a garbled laugh that made his skin crawl slipping through the muzzled snout. "You won't be so lucky next time, Merrick," it rasped, and then with a slow, taunting smile, it turned and disappeared into the thick sheets of rain drowning out the midnight sky.

Sunday, 1:00 a.m.

ON THE EDGE OF COLLAPSE, Ian pushed himself to keep moving through the storm-ravaged forest, determined to reach his destination before he gave in to the overpowering wave of fatigue. The moment the creature had retreated, Ian's deadly talons had receded back into his fingertips with an intense burst of pain; muscles, teeth and bones also returning to normal, to the way they'd been before he'd awakened from the dream. But with their loss came a devastating state of exhaustion, the wounds from the Casus's claws searing like liquid fire beneath the lashing fury of the storm. It seemed to take forever, each step costing him more than the last, but he finally stumbled out of the woods. Squinting through the driving rain, Ian found himself on the outskirts of town, the weatherworn building looming before him none other than the run-down facade of the Pine Motel.

For better or worse, he'd made it to Molly.

After the confrontation with the Casus, he knew he should have gone anywhere but there. If it was following him, he'd just led it right to her, and yet, he had to warn her about the threat it had made. Had to make sure she was all right. Had to make sure it hadn't already made a move against her.

And you want to be near her. Want her comfort. Her touch. Want to be close enough to protect her.

Cursing under his breath at the irritating voice in his head, he crossed the empty highway. The smell of the asphalt seemed sharper than usual, the thick scents of gasoline and tire rubber filling his nose, making him dizzy. He wove his way across the parking lot, left hand pressed against his injured side, staunching the flow of blood from the cuts that striped his flesh.

Moments later, he stood at the motel-room door that had Molly's rental parked in front of it.

A soft, yellow light glowed behind the faded curtain.

Lifting one battered fist, Ian knocked on the door, its green paint peeling away to reveal the brittle wood beneath. He didn't know what he planned to say when she opened up...if she even bothered to open it for him.