Eileen Wilks - Blood Lines

They were still a block from the misnamed Belleview, but the curb was packed nose-to-tail with cars, probably courtesy of the all-night Triple-X Theater down the street. "Um… are we getting out?"

Paul opened his door. "Rule will want me to revoke the sus-mussio. We'd both like privacy for that."

She looked at Rule. "Meaning?"

"I'll explain as we walk."

"Pop the glove box first."

He gave her a lifted eyebrow but did as she asked. She retrieved her SIG Sauer. "Pass me my shoulder holster, would you, Paul? It's on the seat next to you."

"You don't need a gun." Paul was indulgent. "I know this isn't the greatest area, but you've got two big, strong lupi to protect you."

She reminded herself that he was young. "Not your decision. Pass me my shoulder holster."

But Rule had twisted around and snagged it for her. "Paul wasn't trained by Benedict."

Benedict was Rule's older brother, a warrior who was something of a legend among the clans. He did things that really weren't possible, even for a lupus. But what Rule meant by the reference was that Paul, being Leidolf, wouldn't have had the usual lupus distaste for guns trained out of him.

"Point taken." She was probably locking the barn door after the proverbial horses had escaped. She didn't care. Weird stuff kept happening, and she had no intention of wandering around without her weapon.

She had to slip out of the wonderful coat in order to strap on the shoulder harness. She did that standing next to the car and scowling at the cold. "So what's a susmissus?'

"Susmussio." Paul paused to yawn. "It's a fancy word for submission. Lord, but I'm tired. Changing twice like that takes a lot out of you."

She gave Rule a sharp look. He was wearing his imperturbable face. "But wasn't that just a ritual thing? A token submission so you could smell that he wasn't your enemy?"

The two men exchanged glances. Rule answered. "Even a token submission carries meaning. Think of it as a debt. Since no terms were set beforehand—"

'Terms?" He was holding her coat out, so she slipped her arms in. Warmth, blessed warmth.

"When used in a planned ritual, the susmussio has conditions attached. It's how we make treaties between clans. But this was personal, with no terms set. I owe Paul, not his clan."

He started down the street. She fell into step beside him, with Paul slightly ahead. "Owe him what?"

"A certain level of loyalty."

"And with him being Leidolf, that's awkward."

"Yes. Added to that, while the susmussio is in effect, his actions affect my honor, and my actions reflect on him."

"Plus we're out of balance," Paul said. "Rule submitted, but he's alpha, older, and higher status. And yet I'm sort of responsible for him. It's… unsettling. And," he added over his shoulder, a grin flashing, "it's probably bugging the hell out of him."

It would. "How do you cancel it?"

"Easy enough." Paul seemed cheerful now, but tired, like a kid who'd been allowed to stay up late with the adults. "We agree to some basic terms that cancel the first submission. Then I submit to him. Which is why we want a bit of privacy. That looks a bit odd to—holy shit!"

It shot out of a narrow alley between the skin flick place and Paul's apartment building. It was big, red-eyed, and ugly—sort of like a hyena on steroids, only hairless, with arms growing out of its chest. The arms had too many joints and ended in claws. It ran straight at them.

It was a demon.

"Get down!" she shouted at Paul, even as the air beside her shimmered and reality danced for a second time that night.

Lily felt that happen. She didn't look. Before her shout cleared her throat, her gun had cleared its holster. She flowed into position—legs spread, arms outstretched, left hand supporting the right.

Paul didn't drop, dammit. He crouched as if he meant to spar with the thing. She cursed and stepped aside so he didn't block her line of fire.

The two men who came out of the adult theater did, though. One of them had a second to see the demon coming at them and threw himself to the ground. The other didn't. The demon didn't bother to swerve. It swiped the man out of the way with a clawed arm and left him howling and bleeding on the sidewalk.

Clear target. Lily squeezed the trigger, ignored the slap of sound on her eardrums, corrected her aim, squeezed again—

And the demon blurred itself into heat waves—a demon-shaped shimmer rushing at them. Would a bullet go right through it? More people had come out of the Triple-X—more stupid bedamned innocent bystanders, who she'd probably hit if she fired at an immaterial demon.

At ten feet away, it turned solid again. And leaped.

So did the wolf beside her.

Rule's wolf form was big, but the demon was bigger, stronger, and those clawed arms gave it a pair of formidable natural weapons Rule lacked. His only real advantage was speed. Lupi could move like the wind—faster than any terrestrial creatures or any they'd encountered in hell.

He went in low—to deflect, not to engage. They collided in midair and Rule somehow twisted his body to send the red-eye sailing off at an angle. It hit the street with a thud. Rule landed more neatly, rolling and coming up on his feet.

Lily fired again before it could dissolve. Blood spurted from the demon's haunch. It screeched in rage and charged again.

Charged Rule, not her. She'd shot it, but it went after Rule.

Rule dodged, but barely, coming away with a bleeding flank from one of those claws. He was trying to stay between her and the demon, she realized. "It's after you, not me!"

He acknowledged that with the flick of an ear. Then began a fast, deadly tarantella, with the demon lunging, grabbing, leaping, and Rule dancing aside just in time. Rule was drawing it away, she realized. And keeping it solid—apparently it couldn't engage him while in the shimmer-state.

Good tactics, even if it did make her sick with fear. "Not too far, dammit! I'm not Annie Oakley!"

A second wolf arrowed at the demon. Paul. "Don't close with it!"

He didn't. Instead he darted in, nipping at it, and whirled away before it reacted. God, but lupi were fast.

She circled, staying out of the wolves' way, trying to find a clear shot. A head shot, if possible. That was the only way to kill one with a handgun. She had to redistribute the brains.

Dimly she heard cries from down the street. She hoped someone was helping the man the demon had wounded. She hoped they'd had the sense to call this in. Backup would be good—say, a SWAT team or two.

Rule lunged in close and got a mouthful of demon—shit, shit, it nearly had him that time! But he broke away when Paul attacked from the other side, and Lily managed another shot. And missed.

At least she'd missed the wolves, too.

Up the street, a car turned in. Brakes squealed. Good idea, she thought. Go away. All they needed was more civilians underfoot.

She couldn't get a clear shot. The wolves moved so fast she could scarcely track them—darting in, distracting, herding—and her reactions were too much slower than theirs. She didn't dare pull the trigger. But the wolves couldn't stop, couldn't slow down, or they'd be dead.

How long could they keep it up? Paul had already been tired when… What was that?

Feet pounding on pavement. Running toward them, not away. Lily flicked a glance that way. Cynna? How the hell—?

Cynna shouted some nonsense syllables without slowing. She flung out her hand.

A gruesome mix of sounds snapped Lily's attention back to the demon. It had a wolf in its jaws—a wolf with reddish fur. Paul. He was making a high, terrible sound. Rule leaped, his jaws closing around as much of the demon's thick throat as possible.

The demon dropped Paul and fell onto its back, hind legs coming up to try to gut Rule, who released it and rolled away. Lily's finger tightened on the trigger, but the demon moved too fast.