Ilona Andrews - Dark and Stormy Knights

“The highway heading west was a parking lot when I came into town,” he said. “Don’t go that way.”

“South?”

“As good a guess as any.”

“I’ve got family down that way. They’ll take us in.”

The floor trembled, pulsing with a throbbing energy that resonated in time with that coming from the little girl.

Ryder glanced at her, then back at her mother. He lowered his voice, hoping the girl wasn’t listening too closely. “Unless I kill it—which isn’t likely—I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know if it will come for her again tomorrow night.”

“Then you’d better kill it, Ryder. We’re counting on you.”

No pressure.

A deep groaning sound rose from the ground beneath the coffeehouse. The little girl crawled up her mother’s body, clinging to her like a monkey. “It’s coming, Mama!”

“It’s going to be okay, baby. This man has come here to kill it.”

Anne looked at him, her blue eyes brimming with tears and her pointed chin wobbling. “Really?”

“Really,” lied Ryder. “Listen to your mom and this will all be over soon.” One way or another.

The floorboards beneath his boots shuddered and bulged, cracking into jagged splinters. Ryder jumped back and flung open the metal box full of weapons and ammunition.

He loaded his .45, a rifle, and a shotgun, set the rifle on the counter, holstered the .45 under his arm, shoved his pockets full of ammo, and aimed the shotgun at the bulge in the floor. “First glimpse you get of the thing, run. Got it?”

Jordan gave a shaky nod and stepped toward the door.

The bulge in the floor moved, sliding toward Jordan like a wave toward the beach.

“Stop!” yelled Ryder, but it was too late. She’d moved too far, and now the Beacon was drawing the Terraphage toward their exit, blocking the way.

The floor beneath Jordan’s feet bowed, tossing her back into the room, away from the back door. She hit the wall, taking the brunt of the blow on one shoulder as she shielded her daughter’s body.

Shards of wood filled the air and showered down on top of them. Ryder felt the sting of cuts across his face but ignored them. A giant black hole opened up in the floor, and a heartbeat later, the pulsing mass of the Terraphage appeared in the opening.

It was huge, filling one corner of the room. Oily, dark green skin hung on its jagged frame, leaving visible the oddly jointed bone structure beneath. Six eyes glowed flame orange from deep within its fleshy head, pulsing in time with the Beacon’s heart. Saliva poured from its jaws, and inside its mouth—which was wide enough to swallow a small car whole—were hundreds of tiny, serrated teeth angled back toward its throat.

Ryder had heard the stories. He’d grown up with tales of the Terraphage haunting his dreams, but he’d never actually seen one before. He stood there, staring in shock, his mind unwilling or unable to accept what he saw. Fear slithered over his skin until he was shaking. A cold sweat that stank of terror and defeat slid down his ribs.

Now he knew why the warnings he’d heard all his life had been so dire, why he’d been taught to show no mercy—to kill the Beacon before it was too late. The thing that stood before him could not be stopped. It was power incarnate, hunger made manifest. There was nothing a puny human like him could hope to do to win.

“Mama, no,” came the little girl’s frightened cry.

“Don’t look, Anne. Just don’t look,” said Jordan, her voice a whisper of terror.

As if that would help. They were all going to die now. He knew that. Part of him wanted to fling himself at the thing and get it over with, but the rest of him fought that idea, thrashing in defiance at the notion that he’d give up now. He’d allowed this thing to come here. It was his duty to at least try to stop it.

If he could save one little girl, at least his death would have some meaning. No one else would remember him or care that he was gone, but Anne might. If she made it out alive.

The Terraphage lumbered forward toward Anne. The girl screamed. Jordan clutched her daughter and tried to push herself to her feet with one arm. Ryder leveled his Mossberg and fired the first slug.

A deafening boom blasted the room, but the monster didn’t even rock back. It did, however, turn its focus onto Ryder, which was fine with him. If he got it away from the door, Jordan had a small chance of getting her daughter out of here alive.

“That’s right, you ugly fuck,” he growled as he took aim at the thing’s eyes. “Come and get me.”

Ryder fired again. And again. The Terraphage roared in anger, and a tentacle as thick as Ryder’s leg shot out toward him.

He flung himself back to avoid it, landing hard on one of the small tables. It collapsed under his weight and he went down just as the razor-sharp tip of that tentacle sliced at him. His head slammed into the floor hard enough to put a light show on display behind his eyelids. He shook it off and instinctively rolled to the side. The muzzle of the shotgun burned his cheek as it rolled with him, but he barely felt it.

As dizzy as he was now, he didn’t dare stop fighting the thing long enough for it to refocus its attention on the Beacon.

He pushed to his feet, seeing two of the monsters lumbering toward him, hunched over to clear the high ceilings. His vision was fuzzy but clearing fast. Just not fast enough. The double vision faded and the two beasts coalesced back into one again just as it swiped one huge clawed paw toward Ryder’s head.

He ducked as he brought up the barrel of the shotgun to shield himself from the blow. The weapon was ripped from his hands. It slammed into the wall and clattered to the floor, well out of reach.

All he had left was the rifle across the room on the counter and the handgun in his shoulder holster. If the shotgun slug didn’t break that thing’s hide, the .45 might not even make a dent. He needed to get to the rifle. Fast.

Ryder lunged to take cover under a booth table. He was at the front of the building now, hoping he’d drawn the Terraphage far enough away from the back door.

“Run, baby!” he heard Jordan yell.

Relief sang through his veins. He’d saved the little girl—given her the means to escape.

Just then the Terraphage spun around as if sensing their escape. It let out a high-pitched, hissing howl as it leapt toward the Beacon.

Anne screamed, her terrified voice rising to a deafening pitch that clawed at Ryder’s ears. Jordan scooped up her daughter and huddled in the corner, trying to shield the child with her body.

It wouldn’t do any good. The Terraphage would gobble them up together, swallowing them whole.

Hell, no. He was not going to watch this happen.

Ryder shot out from under the table, grabbed one of the chairs, and hurled it at the Terraphage’s back. It roared in anger, swinging its lumbering body around as that razor-tipped tentacle shot out at his head.

He lifted another chair and batted it away. The tentacle cut through the wooden seat, leaving the wood singed and smoking at the edge.

Holy shit!

Ryder had always refused to learn to fight in his grandfather’s inherited plate mail, and at this moment, he wanted to kick his own ass for not listening. No way was his leather jacket going to stop that weapon from slicing him down to the bone. If it managed to hit something vital, game over.

Behind the monster, Jordan made a run for the kitchen. He prayed there was another way out, and if so, he was going to need to hold the doorway so they had time to get away.

With that thought in mind, Ryder flung the remains of the chair at the Terraphage’s orange eyes and made a break for the kitchen. He slid through the opening and slammed the door shut behind him. It was made of wood, nice and solid, but after what he’d seen that thing do to the chair seat, he was convinced it wouldn’t hold long.