Ilona Andrews - Dark and Stormy Knights

A heavy weight slammed into her, knocking her off her feet. Shock ripped her eyes open, despite her desire not to witness her gruesome death. Instead of the monster, it was Ryder who was on top of her. He’d knocked her out of its path and was now shielding her with his body.

Now that she was no longer looking into the monster’s eyes, the hissing whisper was gone from her mind and she was back behind the wheel of her own body. She blinked up at Ryder, trying to shed the lethargy in her limbs and the suicidal haze in her mind. She wasn’t sure what had just happened—how it had turned her into a person she didn’t recognize—but she knew she wasn’t going to let it happen again. No more looking into the monster’s eyes.

“Get back in the damn pantry,” growled Ryder, then he rolled over and started firing at the thing. It roared in pain and reared back. The tentacle flapped in the air as if trying to swat away the bullets.

“I’m trying to help.”

He pushed to his feet, and she could see blood soaking the front of his shirt. Three parallel cuts had torn it to shreds, as well as scoring his skin beneath. “You’re just in the way.”

“Tell me what I can do to kill it.”

“Nothing. We’re screwed.”

“I’m not letting it eat my baby. We need a plan.”

He fired again. The bullets weren’t breaking the skin, but they were keeping the thing pinned against the far wall as it batted at them like mosquitoes. “I had one, but it’s not working.”

“What was it?”

“Get it to eat the propane tank. Shoot the tank and make it explode in the thing’s mouth.”

“Do you think that would work?”

“Maybe. But it knows the tank’s not food, so it’s not going for it.”

It leaned forward from the wall, only to flinch back when Ryder’s gun fired again. Jordan didn’t know how many bullets he had in that gun, but they weren’t going to last long.

The monster ate people. Maybe if the tank smelled like people, it would eat it. At this point, anything was worth a shot.

Jordan took one of the small knives from the caddy and scored a line on her forearm. Blood welled up from the cut.

“What the fuck are you doing?” demanded Ryder.

She smeared her blood over the tank, painting it a grotesque red. “Up here we do a lot of fishing. You have to put scent on your bait to get the fish to bite.”

The Terraphage lumbered closer. Ryder fired again, only this time it didn’t back away. “Get back. I’ll see if it works.”

Jordan scurried back behind the counter. She grabbed a towel and tied it over the wound to slow the bleeding. She couldn’t see what was going on, but she could hear the gunshots and Ryder’s vile curses rising up every few seconds.

At least he was still alive to curse.

She pushed herself to her feet, hoping to take a peek, and a few feet away spied Ryder’s rifle lying on a pile of spilled coffee beans.

Jordan snatched it up. She was no marksman, but she knew the basics. Point and shoot. Just like a camera.

Ryder tossed the bloody tank at the monster. A snakelike tongue shot out and grabbed it, drawing it into the thing’s mouth.

Victory coursed through her. It had worked. The monster had taken the bait.

“Die, fucker,” growled Ryder as he fired his handgun at the tank.

The bullet pinged off harmlessly, not even denting it. There was no explosion, not even any flames.

Their plan had failed.

They were all going to die.

Shit! Now what was he going to do? That propane tank was supposed to explode like in the movies. Hell, if Hollywood was to be believed, all he should have had to do was throw a rock at the thing to get it to burst into flames.

But no. He couldn’t get that lucky.

The bloody tank rolled around in the Terraphage’s mouth as if it were sucking on a piece of candy. Its blistered tongue flickered over it, cleaning away every trace of blood. As distracted as it was by its treat, it wouldn’t be that way long.

It would either spit out the tank or swallow it, rendering it invulnerable inside the belly of the beast. Either way, Ryder was still screwed.

A huge boom exploded behind him. He turned around to see Jordan wielding the rifle.

“I can’t get a clear shot,” she shouted.

Most of the blood was gone. They had only a few seconds left. “Toss it here.”

She did. Ryder caught it and charged the Terraphage. The pale tank was barely visible now. It was going down the thing’s throat. He had time for only one shot. He stopped, aimed, and fired.

And missed.

The bullet tore into the soft pallet of the Terraphage’s mouth. It roared in pain. As its mouth opened, the tank fell to the floor, landing in a puddle of saliva.

His plan had failed. Anne was going to die despite his best efforts.

“Get out!” he yelled over his shoulder. “I’ll try to keep it distracted.”

Jordan didn’t ask questions. She sprinted for the kitchen.

Ryder reloaded the rifle, grabbed the propane tank, and propelled himself into the Terraphage’s open jaws.

Jordan raced back through the room with Anne just in time to see Ryder dive into the monster’s mouth. She had no idea what he was doing, but there wasn’t time to stop and figure it out.

All she cared about was that the door was clear, Anne was firmly in her arms, and they were getting the hell out of here.

She hurried outside, barely feeling the cold. She pushed Anne through the open door of the truck, scurried up onto the wet seat, and gunned the engine. It purred like a cat as she slid over the streets, heading out of town as fast as the tires could carry them.

Ryder was dead. All she could do now was make his sacrifice mean something by getting her baby out alive.

The Terraphage’s jaws clamped down hard, crushing Ryder. Something in his leg cracked and pain screamed up his spine, setting his brain on fire. For several precious seconds, all he could do was let the pain wash over him, consume him. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe, which was likely a blessing. The stench of decaying meat clinging between the thing’s teeth was overwhelming.

Finally, he pulled himself together enough to remember his task. He pointed the barrel of the rifle at the propane tank and fired.

He braced himself for the explosion, but none came.

The pressure around him changed, undulating as the Terraphage began to swallow him whole. He tried to hold on to the tank, but it was ripped from his fingers as it slid down the Terraphage’s throat first.

A hissing noise filled his ears. A sulfurous, rotting smell filled his nose. Gas. Either he’d managed to rupture the tank or the Terraphage’s powerful jaws had.

The dark, hot stench grew until Ryder was dizzy from holding his breath. When he could no longer stand it, he tried to pull in some air, only to find that his nose and mouth had been mashed against the Terraphage’s flesh, cutting off any available oxygen. His shoulder and hip joints popped and burned as the pressure around his body increased. Hot, wet muscles shoved him back toward its throat. He tried to fight it, but he was no match for this kind of power. He was along for the ride. The best he could hope for now was to get one quick shot off to ignite the gas in the Terraphage’s belly, killing himself so he didn’t have to burn to death in its stomach acid.

Lights winked behind his eyelids from lack of oxygen. He was running out of time fast. His hand still gripped the rifle. His arm was going numb, and he had no hope of moving it within the muscular confines of the Terraphage’s mouth, but he thought he could move his finger enough to pull the trigger. All he had to do was wait until he was on his way down its gullet before he fired. Anything sooner and the muzzle flash wouldn’t ignite the gas.