Unknown - Scorched

An animal of some kind. Close.

Just around the corner.

No doubt she stunk of fear, like a nice, juicy, PreyBurger. And if I run, I’ll be a fun-filled meal. She barely worked up enough spit to swallow. Ashe was no coward, but she was no fool, either. Gripping her weapons, she prayed whatever it was would just go away.

A nose came around the corner, wet, black, and huge. It was followed by a head caked in matted brown fur. Drool trailed from its jowls in strings of slimy pearls. Oh. My. Goddess. It looked like a mastiff had mated with a prehistoric bear. And the mother of all dust bunnies.

“Viktor!” cried a young man’s voice.

The rest of the mountainous beast came around the corner, nearly brushing Ashe with its reeking fur. Reflexively, Ashe ducked. The beast gave a deep whuff and thumped her on the shoulder with a whack from its tail. Nerves tingled from the force of the blow, nearly making her drop the stake. Ashe danced to the side, taking up a defensive crouch, prepared to sell her life dearly.

A white shape swooped from the ceiling, too quick to make out. Ashe jerked back, one arm flung up to protect her face. The thing went past, air rushing with the snap of a kite in April breezes. The beast barked again, bounding into the air. The flying creature seemed to nearly collide with the beast’s head, then did a somersault midflight.

“There you are, old boy! You’re lucky we heard you! Why’d you come wandering back here? So what if it was home; don’t you know this isn’t a good place anymore?”

Ashe slowly came out of her crouch, her mouth open in raw amazement. A bat-winged angel was roughhousing with the huge, monstrous dog-thing. The angel? Boy? No, youth was a better word—had the thing by the ears and was half flying, half wrestling with it, laughing like a maniac.

It was one of the oddest sights Ashe had ever seen. She had an irrational urge to ditch her weapons and start taking pictures with her cell phone.

“Who are you?” said someone behind her. Ashe whirled, stake poised. Her mind blanked, cold and ready to kill.

A small woman, barely more than a girl, stared back at her. She was dainty, with long, thick hair the midnight shade of Chinese ink. Pale as a ghost. Ashe’s heart started to pound. Vampire.

The little vamp looked puzzled, and sniffed the air delicately. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous for a human.”

“Said the cat to the mouse,” Ashe said in a voice of ice water. “Well, news flash, girlie, this mouse bites back.”

The vampire raised one fine dark brow. “Well, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the most powerful of my kind, but if I really wanted to make a meal of you, I’d have caught you already.”

Her voice was light, her accent all Irish charm. Her eyes, though, were full of irony. “But I’ve learned my lesson. My last catch turned out to be a demon. Quite a disappointment.” The vampire gave an enigmatic smile. “But only in the culinary sense.”

Okay, why do vamps always insist on sharing too much information? Ashe held her position, every sense on full alert.

The vampire tilted her head. “But you do smell very, very tasty.”

Ashe felt every hair on her head standing up to do the wave. Goddess, get me out of here. She could jump the vamp, but the dog-thing was behind Ashe. Bat-boy was blocking the entrance to the corridor. She was pinned against the stone wall without even a mouse hole in sight.

The youth was approaching, his hands on his hips, silver hair falling loose around him. He wore nothing but what looked like silky pajama bottoms, his chest all bare, pale, lean muscle. The perfect picture of a Goth teen heartthrob. He would have been locker door material except for the huge beast shuffling along in his wake, drooling like Niagara Falls.

“Is the slayer bothering you, little mother?” he asked. Mother?

The vampire tilted her head, eyeing Ashe as if she might make a meal of her yet. “Nothing to worry about, but I think it’s past time she left. She seems very fond of that stake in her hand.”

Leave? I’d love to leave. Ashe remained still and silent, too wary to admit she was lost.

The vamp lifted her chin. “Get away from my son. Go. I don’t care where.”

Bat-boy, on the other hand, gave Ashe a cocky smile. “Don’t think for a minute you could catch me, anyway.”

Good Goddess. It was the same everywhere. Mothers protected their young. Teenage boys were idiots. “You go. I’m not turning my back on you.”

“Very well.”The vampire pulled at her son’s hand. “Then you don’t move. Not a hair. Not until we’re out of sight.”

Ashe was confused. This was too easy, too reasonable for monsters.

But the youth nervously scanned the halls. “Be kind, little mother. No one can stay here. Not even her. We’re too near Atreus’s halls.”

The dog let out another soul-splitting howl—not the lonely keen of earlier, but something new. An alarm. They all cringed away from the sound, the little vampire covering her ears.

No dog made a sound like that unless it sensed trouble.

“What’s wrong?” Ashe demanded. Her pulse was kicking up even further, primitive instincts telling her to fight or flee right now.

The vampire lifted her head, sniffing the air. “Atreus is near.”

“Atreus?”

“Sylvius is right; beware of him. He’s unpredictable. Quite mad.” The vampire’s eyes had gone wary, just one step away from outright fear. She had one hand on the youth’s arm, as if her touch alone was a shield. “We need to go. All of us. You, too.”

Reflexively, Ashe tightened her fingers around the stake. The look in the female’s eyes dug into her gut. This is a mother and child. Okay, so they’re not human, but they’re afraid of something worse. What kind of creep would frighten a mom and her kid and dog?

Whoever that was, Ashe didn’t like that person one little bit.

“Where does this guy Atreus live?”

Mac rolled out of bed the next morning wondering whether he’d lost his mind. Somewhere in the course of the evening’s conversation, he’d actually agreed to let Lore rent his spare bedroom. He valued his privacy, but he needed cash more.

Heck, he was one-stop shopping: Get your superhero and landlord in one giant package. He’d be in the Castle much of the time, anyway, given his growing to-do list. As long as the Castle was still there.

It turned out the hellhounds knew the place was falling apart, whole chunks at a time simply disappearing. There were warning signs, so for the most part the residents simply moved to another location. Any that didn’t disappeared along with the stones.

Mac filed away one important footnote: The guardsmen’s magical marching orders said that they could only leave the prison for short periods of time. Naturally, they had the most to lose if the place went poof altogether. Lore speculated they’d probably die.

It was a testament to Reynard’s discipline that they weren’t all rioting in panic.

It made Mac grateful to be waking up in a soft, safe bed. It would have been perfect if only Connie were there, too. I wonder if she would want to leave the Castle? It seemed like the obvious choice to him, but he hadn’t lived there for centuries. She might be unaccountably attached to it. Then again, if the Castle kept crumbling, she had no choice.

He stretched, an enormous bone-popping roll of the shoulders.

Coffee. Must have coffee.

He eyed the bedside clock. Ten. Crap. He’d overslept. Opening the bedroom blinds, he squinted out at the sun. It was another beautiful autumn day. Good to be alive.