Rob Thurman - Roadkill

I still didn’t know what they were. They were as big as werewolves and somewhat similarly shaped, but sharper, leaner, with muzzles as pointed as the end of a sword. They were like foxes… if foxes were bigger than Great Danes, black as crows plucking at the eyes of a dead man, and their own eyes-gray. They were gray like mine and Niko’s, only paler, but I wasn’t in the mood to claim them as kissing cousins.

They slithered out of the truck in waves. I didn’t know how many of them managed to fit in there, but they were emaciated, as if they’d run a long way. The truck started moving again while they were still coming out, its tires spinning, churning dirt and grass. It was out of sight in seconds, the same amount of time it took for the creatures, a tsunami of shadows, to cover Niko’s replacement car. Several split off from the pack to come for me, vaulting through the trees and down the embankment with a speed that said they weren’t only starved; they were ravenous.

Goddamn , this was going to be fun.

They were almost beautiful in their own way. A lot of things that could kill you were. It didn’t stop me from shooting the first two in the head, then ripping space and appearing behind them to shoot two more. The four remaining ones hit the water, turned, and leaped back toward me. They weren’t cowed by the deaths of three of their own or the one still thrashing in its death throes. They came for me so quickly that I didn’t see the surface of the water ripple under their paws. Their bones showed under their black coats, but it didn’t mean they were weak. Water didn’t curve under them and my eyes could barely follow them-hardly frail; the opposite in fact. Did that make it less fun? Hell, no.

It made it better.

“Come and get me,” I said, and traveled again, a fraction of a second before they would’ve reached me. This time when I appeared I was on the other side of Nik’s new car, firing as soon as the world materialized out of silver light. I killed two and injured one, and it was easy. It was so easy that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been doing this every time I came across a bad guy or a creature that wanted to eat me. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been doing it every damn day just for the on-top-of-the-world, king-of-the-goddamn-universe feeling. It was good-so good, it was simple, and it was effective. It hadn’t always been, but it was now and not using it would be practically criminal.

Two more ebony heads turned in unison away from the car and toward me, their eyes reflecting me… a distorted, twisted image of me, at least. Or maybe it was a true one… and that didn’t bother me either. Both of them gave a yowl so high-pitched it could’ve been responsible for the shattering of the back window behind them, but it wasn’t. Catcher got credit for that as he sailed through the glass. He landed on one of them, rode it to the ground, and snapped its neck with his massive jaws. He might have liked beach bunny calendars, playing hangman, and sticking a cold wet nose in your ear just as you fell asleep to see you jump out of your skin, but Catcher was also a Wolf-a born predator, and genes would tell. They always did.

Surprising how easy it was to forget that.

Another Wolf, red like Catcher but a shade lighter, followed him out the window and took down the other… whatever it was. It was the first time I’d seen Rafferty in wolf form. On the other side of the car, yet another Wolf, Delilah, had joined the party. I’d thought I’d heard her motorcycle. The driver’s side of the car opened and Robin climbed out with sword in hand. “Ördögs. Usually found in Hungary.” He ducked with alacrity, gutting the one that sailed over his head.

“But found occasionally these days in certain mountainous regions of the United States. Migration. Immigration. Whatever you wish to call it,” Niko finished, at my side so swiftly that I wasn’t sure if he’d come after Robin or around the car-probably around. There was already blood on his sword. He’d disdained my borrowed gun for close combat. “They have a kinship with the Rom, at least the Rom who walk the darker paths-like Suyolak. They definitely don’t have a connection with healers. Suyolak must’ve called for them, gathered them up when they caught up to him.” He swiveled and let gravity impale one on his katana. “And they came a long way, considering how malnourished they are.”

“Run.” The word was garbled, almost too mangled to understand. It came from atop the car where one Ördög crouched, teeth bared. It had only four of them, like the upper and lower fangs of a cobra-curving and longer than my hand. “He promised feast that never ends. Death that never stops. We run. No sleep. No eat.” Its eyes focused on Niko and me. “Eat now.”

In our world, it was sometimes hard to tell who was good and who was bad, and wasn’t it a matter of perspective anyway? Either way, good or bad, right or wrong, it was always easy to tell who was hungry. Hungry was always the wrong side, and when they spoke up to yell you they were hungry and going to eat you, it made it even easier to spot them.

I could’ve dived to one side or tried for a shot before the chatty one jumped from the roof. The Ördög was less than six feet away… but where was the entertainment in that? Niko’s hand locked on to my shoulder almost before I had a chance to finish the thought. “ Cal,” he said, his voice absolute. He didn’t add “don’t,” because he knew I would listen to him. I always did. He was my brother. He’d protected me my whole life. He was one of the best fighters, if not the very best, that I’d ever seen and the best stragetician. He…

Shit. It didn’t matter if he was the best. It didn’t matter that he was my brother.

For the first time ever, I didn’t listen.

Don’t get me wrong. I’d on occasion deliberately not done what he thought, and strongly emphasized, was best, but I’d always weighed the pros and cons. In those cases I’d known I probably wasn’t doing the safe thing but the necessary thing. And although I’d done those things, I’d listened to him first. Not this time. This time I wasn’t listening to my gut either. I was listening to the need. It was talking louder than Nik and louder than the rest of me.

I brushed his hand off and traveled on top of the car, the gray light dappling the air around me, inches from the Ördög’s muzzle. “Boo,” I said with soft cheer. “Here’s the gravy train.” As much as I loved my guns, I didn’t use the Eagle this time. I jumped it at the same time it jumped me. We rolled off the car and hit the ground hard, me on the bottom and the Ördög on top of me with its teeth snapping at my throat. I laughed. It only kept getting more and more entertaining… more like a game. “Bad dog,” I whispered with a smile. Then I put my hand on its throat, called a gate around it, and passed my glowing hand through flesh and bone. Instantly dead, the light, almost silver eyes darkened to a gray the same as mine. I used my knee to fling the body off. The head, however, landed on my chest and that reflection I’d seen of myself earlier, I saw again in the mirror-shine that began to dull with every passing second. I saw my face, Auphe pale since birth with Sophia’s eyes, except for a spark of red in them. I blinked and it was gone; only the fog of death remained in the Ördög’s gaze.

I’d imagined it, because… because there was no other explanation. I didn’t see it. It wasn’t there and nothing was ruining the high I had going on. I jumped to my feet, my hand covered with Ördög blood. It was red, darker than human blood, but close. I’d seen enough of both or maybe I hadn’t. The feel of it, slippery and warm against my skin… it was nice. It was more than nice. I looked for more Ördögs to kill. They were hungry, but so was I. It was a different kind of hunger-a hunger for more battle, more traveling, more killing, but justified killing. Self-defense. Defense of others. Whatever. Another wave of euphoria passed through me, and concepts like justification disintegrated beneath it. I only wanted more targets, more traveling, more of this sensation, and I didn’t care how I got it.