Rachel Hawkins - Grim

Percival backed out of his house in a daze, wondering what to do next. Peter’s home was a few streets down, not far from where he stood. Maybe he should go there—

A low growl, somewhere above him, made his hair stand on end.

Heart in his throat, Percival looked up.

Something crouched on the thatched roof of his home, an enormous shadow against the night sky. Something huge and black, and obviously inhuman. Piercing green eyes stared down at him from a massive shaggy head, and a long muzzle curled back to reveal wet, shiny fangs as long as his fingers.

The thing threw back its head with a howl that turned his blood to ice, and Percival ran.

He felt, rather than saw, the thing give chase. He could hear it behind him, its low pants and raspy breathing, the rustle of its huge form through the grass and weeds. Percival’s eyes blurred with tears of fright, and his legs burned as he fled, gasping, for Peter’s home. At one point, he tripped over a stone and went sprawling to the ground, scraping his hands. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw the creature a few yards away in the darkness, just watching him with blazing green eyes. Toying with him. Panicked, he scrambled upright and fled, as the monster gave another howl and loped into the shadows.

Peter’s log cabin came into view, and Percival threw himself at it, crossing the yard and smashing into the front door. “Peter!” he screamed, pounding on the wood. “Peter, let me in! Let me in!”

Footsteps echoed from inside, and the door swung back, revealing Peter’s frowning face in the doorway. “Percival?” he questioned as Percival barreled under his arm, slamming the door behind him. Peter turned, still frowning, as Percival scrambled across the room. “What’s going on?”

“Peter!” his brother gasped. “Get away from the—” The door exploded inward. Percival shrieked in terror, as the enormous head of a monstrous wolf came through the wooden barrier like it wasn’t there. Wood flew in all directions, splinters and wood chips spiraling through the air. Peter turned, mouth open to shout something, when the huge jaws closed over his head and yanked him outside. Peter gave a startled cry, and then there was silence.

For a moment, Percival couldn’t move. He stood there, frozen to the back wall, staring at the place Peter had been a second before. It wasn’t real, his mind said frantically. None of this was real. He was having a nightmare where he had just watched his brother be killed right in front of him by a creature that should not exist. He would wake up in just a moment, and everything would be normal.

The porch steps creaked, and the monster wolf appeared in the frame, watching him. Blood dripped from its jaws, spattering the floor, and its muzzle was coated in red. It stared at him with hateful green eyes, and something in that burning glare sent a jolt of recognition through Percival’s stomach. He’d seen those eyes, somewhere...

The wolf roared, baring bloodstained teeth, and lunged into the room. Percival screamed and fled to the back, slamming the bedroom door. Flinging himself to the window, he wrenched up the frame, just as the wolf’s head erupted through the door, snarling and terrible. With a shriek, Percival dove out the window.

He was halfway through when, to his horror, he became stuck in the frame, and wriggled frantically to get loose. Crying with terror, he slid loose and dropped to the ground just as a huge muzzle clamped onto the sill and tore a chunk from the wooden frame. Leaping to his feet, Percival fled toward the only safe haven he had left: Pedro’s brick house on the edge of town.

Either his mind had cracked, or the wolf was definitely toying with him. He would see it sometimes, from the corner of his eye, or he’d catch a glimpse of it between the trees as he fled past. What did it want? Why was it tormenting him like this? He’d figured out that this was no ordinary beast; those eyes were far too intelligent, and filled with a hatred that he’d seen before only in men.

Gasping, nearly sick with exertion, Percival was only a hundred yards from the safety of Pedro’s home when something caught his leg and sent him sprawling to the ground. Frantic, he pushed himself to his knees...and stared right into the burning glare of the wolf.

The huge muzzle was just a snap away from his face. He could feel the hot, fetid breath on his cheeks, smell the blood that clung to its fur. His reflection stared back at him from those soulless green eyes, pale and terrified, and as the wolf curled its lip, showing bloodstained teeth, Percival braced himself to die.

A gunshot rang out, booming in the silence, and the wolf jerked sideways with a roar. Pedro stood several yards away, a smoking rifle in his hands, his gaze hard and determined.

“Come on, witch!” he bellowed, firing again, and the wolf howled as blood erupted from its side. “You want me? Here I am! Come and get me! Percival,” he yelled as the wolf snarled and leaped away from the youngest brother, “get inside—now! Lock the door, and don’t open it for anything, you hear?”

Percival nodded. Scrambling to his feet, he fled the last few yards to the front door of Pedro’s home, turning in the frame as one last shot rang out behind him.

Pedro stood his ground, firing away at the wolf, which yelped in pain but kept coming. As the monster creature swept up on him, he dropped the rifle and pulled out a knife, raising it high as the wolf lunged. The blade plunged into the shaggy neck, sinking deep as the wolf bowled him over and buried its teeth into his throat.

Pedro spasmed, his limbs twitching like a jerky puppet’s as the wolf tore and savaged his body, sending tendrils of blood curling through the air. Percival watched in the door frame, unable to scream or even make a sound until the vicious mauling came to an end, and the wolf finally looked up.

At him.

Fear jolted him into motion again. As the monster bounded forward, he slammed the thick, reinforced wooden door, threw all the locks and backed away. The wolf hit the entryway with a resounding crash that rattled the frame, and Percival heard a yelp on the other side. Another crash, but the door held, and a snarl of frustration followed. Try as it might, it couldn’t get through.

For the rest of the night, Percival huddled in the master bedroom, listening to the monster prowling outside. Sometimes it would scratch at the shuttered windows, whining. Sometimes it would hurl itself at the door or walls, making the rooms shake, but Pedro’s house had been built to withstand the fiercest storms, and held firm.

Finally, near dawn, everything grew very quiet. Percival could no longer hear the beast circling the house, but he didn’t dare move. He would stay in this fortress until he was certain the monster wasn’t lurking somewhere, just waiting for him to step outside.

Witch, Pedro had shouted right before he died. It made sense now. The great wolf was the witch who lived at the edge of the Haunted Wood. She’d heard what he did to her granddaughter and had come back for revenge. Those burning green eyes, so full of rage and hate, only confirmed it.

She was overreacting a bit, Percival thought numbly, sitting with his knees to his chest on Pedro’s bed. After all, Maya had only been told never to come back to the pie shop; it wasn’t like they’d driven her out of town. But she was a witch. Perhaps she’d hated them all along, and just needed an excuse to come after them. Thank heavens for Pedro’s fear of storms. As long as he stayed inside, the wolf couldn’t get to him.

The afternoon sun was high overhead, and Percival, exhausted from his harrowing escape and staying up all night, had started to drift off on Pedro’s bed, when there was a knock at the door.