A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters - Martin Harry Greenberg [64]
“Their goals will have changed.” Wan was scanning the sky. “Now they will want to—”
The dogs howled.
I jerked my head around to see them at the fence, pawing and clawing, trying to get at a possum sitting on the post. Not any old possum, either. This one was sitting there, holding its walking stick, glaring at them. Old Ugly-Stinky, who had tried to kill me in my own kitchen.
It raised its head and stared at me.
It knew.
I don’t know how it knew. I don’t know how I knew it knew, since the possum’s face didn’t really change all that much. His teeth were already bared and he was hissing like a cobra. Except now, the hatred in its eyes was palpable. I took a step back, but didn’t let my gaze drop.
The possum’s nose wrinkled up even more, and it reached out with its staff. There was a flash, and he pulled it back, its tip charred and smoldering.
“The wards,” Wan said. “Still . . . call the dogs, Kate. We need to get back into the house.”
“Itty, Bitty,” I called out, shivering as the wind picked up. I called again sharply, but both my babies were two intent on their target to pay much attention. I whistled. Itty turned and ran a few steps toward me, but when Bitty didn’t follow, Itty tore back for her fair share of the barking.
“Fool dogs,” I muttered, starting toward them.
“No, Kate.” Wan pulled his sword from its sheath. “Go no closer.”
Now, Wan is an impressive fighter, but the whole two-inch-high-defender thing made it just a little embarrassing. “The wards will hold.”
The possum lifted its stick, and started chanting in a voice like fingernails on a chalkboard. The dogs whined and backed off, looking at me, then up at the animal in confusion.
“Itty. Bitty. Right here, right now,” I commanded, and they came tearing over to me. They whined at my feet for a moment, circling around, begging to be petted.
“Come on, my babies.” I bent to pet them.
Wan grabbed at my shirt collar. He was eyeing the possum, who was starting to get louder and shriller, if that was possible. “Inside, Kate. Hurry.”
“Okay,” I stood, taking a last look at the sky. The clouds were getting thicker and darker fast. The wind was picking up and . . .
The possum cried out in its horrible shrill voice and thunder boomed through my bones. The dogs yelped and ran for the house. I cringed, then looked up. There’d been no lightning, what was—
He was floating over the fence, his arms outstretched as if poised for flight.
His long blond hair floated around his head like a cloud. His armor was black and gold. His face was angled and mysterious, with a scar that ran over one eye and down his cheek, and his eyes . . . his dark eyes burned like fire over my skin.
Pure desire lanced through me, the warmth flooding between my legs and surging up into my chest. My knees wobbled, and went weak. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of my heart.
One corner of his mouth quirked up, and he reached out his hand. I watched as those warm supple lips started to form my name. He wanted me, desired me, and my skin rippled, anticipating his touch. My nipples tightened, as if his fingers were already—
Pain—something cut into my ear. Something yammering in my ear, making frantic noises. I reached up and brushed it away. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered except lying skin to skin with my lover. I took a step, and then another, reaching up to unzip my sweatshirt, tear off my clothes and—
Something sliced into my ankle.
I stumbled, looking down to see blood pouring from a cut. Wan was standing next to my foot, his sword in one hand, its pommel hanging open. He had something in his other hand, and when his gaze caught mine, he screamed against the rising wind, and threw it at me.
It arched up . . . something small, that grew larger as it rose up higher, something white . . . no . . . mother-of-pearl. I reached out and caught the medallion, letting the necklace warp around my wrist.
It felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown in my face.