Her Werewolf Hero (8 page)

“There's nothing out here.” Darkness had fallen during the drive. Bron took in the nearly full moon in the sky to his right. It glowed like a warning beacon that demanded his attention. When she hooked the camera around her neck, he asked, “You're going to take some pictures?”

“No, I need to pee. I shouldn't have had all the free water from that vintage water carafe back at the antique store. Seriously. Pull over now.”

He did so and shifted into Park. Kizzy stepped out and, before walking off, turned to Bron and said, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not laughing when I told you about the werewolf I heard when I was a kid.”

He shrugged. “Kids know things.”

“They do.” Her smile beamed, and she turned and took off.

With the camera swinging about her neck, she hopped through the long grasses edging the road. The ditch was low and the land was dry, so he didn't suspect she'd have to splash through water. Darkness thickened the air, and while he could still see her shadow, he turned his head to scan the moonlit horizon, giving her privacy.

He'd told her about time traveling witches and that he knew witches divided themselves into the Dark and the Light. They'd spent hours talking about all things witchy, so he hadn't needed to venture on to any other creatures like vampires or demons. Or werewolves. No, he'd not laughed. But it might have been wiser if he had.

He itched his neck and glanced at the moon. Four days out for the full moon. He normally had an innate sense of the lunar calendar, but his focus had been altered. He was off his game due to the surprise of finding the heart in the least expected place. No way could it be classified find-and-seize now.

The other option, a find-and-finish mission, was not something he had ever balked at accepting. He had no compunctions regarding pulling the trigger or dragging a blade across a pulsing carotid if it meant protecting mankind from evil.

Once, he'd had to gut a vicious berserker and pull out an ancient chakra power totem it had swallowed to keep it from changing into an undefeatable killing machine. He hadn't blinked an eye to end the berserker's life. It would have murdered so many with such power at its command.

Kizzy wouldn't harm a bug. She was an innocent in possession of a powerful talisman. And she had no intention of using it to harm others. She did not deserve death simply to offer up the prize.

But would someone else reach in and grab her heart? The thought made him shiver. He squeezed the steering wheel in an attempt to stave off memories of the innocent eight-year-old. A child harmed by the ignorance of others.

A scream raised the hairs on the back of his neck, and he reacted. Jumping out of the driver's side, Bron raced down the ditch, through the knee-high grasses and into the darkness. He smelled the intruder now and cursed himself for not paying attention while sitting in the truck. As he raced through the night, the scent of sulfur bled into his being.

Demon.

Kizzy's breaths homed him on to her position. She ran toward the dark line of a nearby forest. Not an easy place to escape the creature that pursued her.

Shit. He didn't have any weapons on him, save the wooden stake at his hip. That wouldn't kill a demon. And he rarely packed salt, a sure means to slow a demon down, even kill it. And while he'd often thought he should learn some demonic expulsion spells, he'd never taken the time. Hand-to-hand combat was out of the question—not in his human form.

There was only one way to defeat this creature. It was unavoidable. An option he rarely utilized unless he knew he'd need the strength and endurance to defeat a powerful opponent. He just prayed the darkness would conceal his secret from the woman who was far too curious about paranormal breeds for his well-being.

Chapter 7

W
hatever was chasing her was ugly. And it smelled like rotten eggs. Daring a glance over her shoulder, Kizzy got a look at its face in the brief second it dashed through a beam of moonlight. What the—? It was missing its lower jaw.

She screamed again and tripped on a clod of dirt, going down hard and landing on her forearms. Thank goodness her camera was secure on the strap about her neck.

Something scratched her shoulder. Hot blood oozed from her skin. She felt the thing hovering over her, its sulfurous breath wilting the air. And just when she had Bron's name on her tongue to scream, the growling and drooling creature above her was lifted away and tossed through the air.

And in its place stood something bigger, hairier and wilder. It had a face like a wolf, and its furred body resembled a man who ate steroids like candy. At its hands were long claws. And she caught a glimpse of a tail whipping wildly behind the thing.

With a chest-expanding inhale, the wolf creature let out a long and wicked howl.

“Shit, a werewolf.” Kizzy crawled across the ground, her hands finding purchase in the long ribbony grass. The forest she'd fled toward was close. But on second thought... “Nope. Never lose a werewolf in there.”

But the expected attack did not happen. Instead the wolf stomped away and into a run, meeting the approaching creature missing half its face in a body slam. They battled, growling and clawing and snarling. The clash of their claws sounded like swords meeting in battle.

And Kizzy realized that maybe the werewolf was trying to protect her. Or was it fighting off the other thing so it could have her all to itself? Where had it come from? Since when was the upper Midwest so fraught with paranormal creatures? All her life she'd hoped to capture one on film, with no luck, and now...

Now!

Where was Bron? Still waiting for her in the truck? He must have heard her scream. If not, by now he should be worried that her dash into the ditch to pee was taking an inordinately long time. She could see the distant headlights from the truck up on the road and hadn't realized she'd run so far from it. When one was being pursued by the otherworldly, apparently they grew wings themselves.

Remarkably, the camera still hung around her neck. In a moment of clarity, she pulled off the lens cap and adjusted the flash and shutter speed by feeling the buttons along the left side of the camera. The creatures battled one another not forty feet away from her. They were silhouetted by moonlight that crept through the forest's latticework of branches. She snapped shot after shot. Likely nothing would appear on film with the terrible light and the frenetic action, but she couldn't let this opportunity pass.

Pushing up to stand, she noticed the tweak at her shoulder and only then remembered she'd been injured. It didn't hurt, but she felt blood soak her torn shirt to her skin.

No time to bother with assessing her life-or-death status. She hadn't fainted. And she'd already cheated death once. What was more important was getting as many shots of the werewolf and that thing. She lifted the camera, took aim...

With one grand sweep of its deadly paw the hulking werewolf took off the creature's head. The sky about the headless body darkened as a black mist curdled the air. It was smoking out or turning to dust or ash, much like a vampire.

The monstrous werewolf swayed its head toward Kizzy. Predatory gold eyes narrowed, targeting her face. It was probably scenting her with its black, leathery nose, placed at the end of a stretch of jaw. Its maw opened to reveal dangerous, sharp teeth she would not like to feel sink into her flesh.

“Shit.” She dropped the camera to let it dangle from the strap.

If she ran, the werewolf would run faster. But if she stayed put, she became a blinking sign advertising a free meal. The beast would snatch her with those wicked claws. And tear her to bits. Her bones tossed aside. Her heart likely kept for the prize it apparently was.

She clutched her throat, her muscles stiffening with fright. What to do? Either way, she wasn't going to survive long.

The decision was made for her. The werewolf suddenly took off toward the forest. Whew! Kizzy's breath chugged in her throat. And not sure if the other creature could function without a head or in its current smoky/ash state, she decided to get the hell out of there herself.

She raced toward the truck, and finally her shoes landed on the loose gravel that edged the tarmac highway. Slamming her palms against the warm metal hood, only then did she dare let out a shout. It was a cry of relief, of letting out the fear tightly coiled in her veins. Of triumph, as well. She had gotten away. All in one piece. Heart still intact.

Heartbeats thundering, she said blessings for the fact her heart did still beat. She'd come back to life on the operating room table. She'd not died tonight. She was more resilient than she'd ever thought possible.

Then she remembered she had not been alone.

“Bron?” She peered inside the truck cab. No one inside. Maybe he had gone in search of her. Certainly he would have after hearing the two creatures battling. “Oh, no.”

She turned and scanned the darkness that was too black to make out any more than the jagged line of trees edging the horizon. “The werewolf is still out there.” And who knew if the missing-jaw creature had been alone or had friends close behind?

“Bron?” Her voice shivered.

She was brave, but her legs wouldn't allow her to rush into the darkness in search of him. Common sense told her to climb into the truck and lock the doors. Pray he had left the keys behind. So she did. And, yes, the keys were in the ignition, which was why the lights were on.

She pressed a palm to the closed passenger window and peered into the blackness that loomed beyond the reach of the headlights. “I can't just sit here. What if he's...”

Attacked. Mauled. Or worse.

“Eaten,” she choked out, clutching her throat.

Despite her fascination for the otherworldy, she'd always hated horror movies. Anything that involved a creepy creature attacking innocents. The chainsaw-wielding maniacs didn't scare her. But Kizzy was enough of a believer to know that things that went bump in the night did exist and would go after people.

Like werewolves.

She clutched the door handle, prepared to rush out and call for him, when something loomed closer from out in the ditch. Heartbeats rocketing to her throat, Kizzy slammed her fist on top of the door lock button.

“Like that's going to help. It took the head off the thing chasing me. It can certainly break into a flimsy truck and—ohmyGod.”

Bron wandered up from the ditch, clutching his tattered pants to his hips. They were split down the seam of one leg. He wore no shirt or shoes. His hair was tousled. And he had red scratches that bled on his arms and chest. He must have battled the werewolf. But really? To have lost his shoes? Though the cuts were indicative of a fight. Maybe? Had to be. How else could he have—

And for all the times Kizzy had hoped to capture the paranormal on film, to be validated that her beliefs were indeed real, in that moment, she knew exactly what Bron was.

“Holy Hannah.” Her heart actually stopped beating. “No. Way.”

But it made sense. Especially with the job he had, traveling the world and collecting magical artifacts. Things that normal people—humans—couldn't conceive existed. Why hadn't he told her? Was he really? Yes, she knew it as she knew her own heart had been scarred by the touch from a purgatorial soul.

Bron climbed the ditch, wobbling as he reached the roadside. She didn't see claws at his hands. His face was normal shaped. No vicious teeth jutting from a stretched wolflike maw. And his bare chest and abs were shadowed with dark hair but nothing resembling fur. Was he—could he be—dangerous?

Immediately on the tail of her apprehension rose an intense anger. That he hadn't the courage to tell her he was a werewolf, had even thought to keep it a secret, pissed her off.

She opened the door and hopped out. “What the hell?”

He put up a palm to dismiss her demanding query and wandered around the front of the hood. Kizzy followed, no longer fearful of what else might lurk out in the darkness. It stood right before her.

“Did you forget to tell me something about yourself?” she asked as he leaned a palm onto the hood and bowed his head. “Bron?”

He winced. Exhaled. Then gasped out, “Are you okay?”

“Me? Yes. Er, I think so. Just a scratch on my shoulder.” Maybe. She couldn't be bothered with her own problems now. “What is this? You look like you've been through a shredder. You didn't fight that creature. Because...” The next words came out on a nervous shiver. “Are you what I think you are?”

“I didn't want you to see that. But I didn't have another option. Wraith demons are tough to take out. I needed more strength than wielding a knife or crossbow would have offered.”

“So...” She reached to touch his arm but retracted when he flinched. “You're a werewolf?”

He nodded. “I have extra clothes in my duffel bag. Let me change on the other side of the truck and then...”

“Right.” She stepped back, giving him the space he obviously wanted. But so stunned. Unbelieving even while she believed. “Werewolf,” she whispered as he opened the door on his side and got some things out of the cab.

Turning, she leaned against the front grill of the truck. The headlights framed her on each side, so she closed her eyes against the brightness and bent forward, catching her palms on her knees. The past few days had been insane. Unreal.

Exciting.

Weird.

Beyond comprehension.

Her dead boyfriend had grabbed her heart from Purgatory. Vampires and other monsters wanted to rip said heart out of her chest. The man who claimed to want to protect her also wanted her heart and...he was a creature who shifted from man shape into a big, hulking, furry, dangerous howling beast.

Kizzy shook her head. A dizzy wave wobbled the world. She reached out for stability. A feeling of dread overwhelmed. Her body suddenly swayed, and she went down.