Melissa Marr - Untamed City - Carnival of Secrets

The man in front of her flashed his teeth in the sort of smile that made her think of angry dogs. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re more use as a pretty, living bargaining chip, so just come along peaceful-like. We’ll take you to The City, and you’ll be treated like you deserve.”

“The City?” she echoed.

His words clicked into place for her, and the extent of the danger became clearer. Daimons? Here? Mallory stepped to the side, trying to evade him. Her hand was already reaching for her gun as she moved. If they were really daimons, the idea of facing two of them made her mind slip into that eerily calm place she found during training.

But it felt like the world hit fast-forward as the man lunged at her. He had appeared human, but in a split moment, he was something else. She wouldn’t call him a dog, although he looked more canine than anything else. Claws too long for any dog extended from long digits on hands that appeared human. The body had a dog’s fur, but the limbs were more muscular. The tatters of his clothes clung to an animal shape.

In that same moment when he lunged, Mallory drew the revolver from the holster hidden under her jacket. Suddenly her father’s fixation on a gun’s firing speed made good sense.

The daimon stopped just short of touching her. The other one was off to her side, but he wasn’t moving either.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” the human-shaped one said.

Mallory had her feet planted and arms straightened; her hands were steady and the short barrel of the revolver was aimed at the doglike daimon. She took several steps backward, wishing she had a gun for her other hand.

“We can hurt you,” he said, “but we only want to take you home.”

The doglike one stared at her with eyes that looked as human as her own, and she paused.

She didn’t move, couldn’t move.

It’s a daimon. Pull the trigger.

The shape of it was unsettling, not quite canine but not quite monstrous.

“We need you to come with us,” the other one said. He was still in the shape of a man, but his voice sounded rougher now, like the sound had to roll over heavy rocks before words were fully formed.

Mallory shook her head. “I’ll shoot.”

The daimon in front of her made a sound like a laugh or a cough.

“You won’t get both of us,” the other one said.

He grabbed her arm and tugged her off-balance.

She let the momentum of his action spin her to face him—and then she shot him. She only got off one shot, but it was a good shot. The bullet pierced his chest, and at such close range, the spatter was enough to make her feel sick.

It did not, however, stop him. He grabbed her gun and yanked it out of her hand. He moved so quickly that the clatter of the revolver hitting the asphalt was simultaneous with a cuff to her head.

Mallory tried to evade both daimons, but they moved quicker than she could have imagined. Her father had told her that they were crazy fast, but seeing it was still shocking.

The doglike one had her wrist in his jaws now, holding her in place. The other one had sunk to his knees. He was motionless on the asphalt, but he still stared at them.

“You ought to help him,” she said to the daimon in doglike shape. She wasn’t sure he understood her, but she knew she wasn’t going to fight her way out of this. Maybe logic could buy her time for . . . something.

She swiped at the blood on her face, and when she pulled her hand away, her fingers tingled. As she glanced at them, weird claws seemed to extend from her fingertips. It’s contagious? Her gaze darted to the daimon in front of her. The claws growing on her hand were the same as his.

She swiped her claws at the head of the daimon restraining her, and he released her with a yelp.

Mallory held up her claw-tipped hand like a weapon and darted away.

The daimon that was crouched in front of her grabbed at her, but this time she moved almost quickly enough to avoid him. She felt the edges of his claws graze her arm.

None of this made sense. Adam had never said that their blood would change her. The horror of seeing the change to her hands mixed with the pain in her arm, and she stumbled backward.

The bleeding daimon caught her again, but she tore away from him and ran toward the gun.

She only made it a few steps before the daimon on all fours landed in front of her in a leap that should’ve been impossible. She swerved too suddenly, twisting her ankle and falling in the process.

“Stop.”

The voice cut through the haze of pain and confusion. The only person who could fix things was there. “Daddy?”

Adam stepped in front of her. The daimon’s claws scored his side, but that was all that the daimon had time to do. In mere moments, her father had spoken a spell that left the doglike daimon immobilized on the ground. It looked at her from eyes too like her own, but didn’t move. Its chest rose and fell in silent breaths.

The second daimon wasn’t so lucky. When it had started changing, Adam spoke another spell—this one fatal. It dropped to the ground dead in a form that was neither man nor animal, but a sick mix of the two.

Her father drooped.

“Daddy!”

“I’m fine.” He pulled her to her feet. “Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not!” She tugged him away from the blood on the ground with her malformed hands.

“I’m here now.” Adam put an arm around her, steadying her. “Everything is fine.”

“It’s not.” She held her hands out. “Look at me!”

“Shhhh,” he murmured.

“Hush, Mallory.” He grabbed her face, and she noticed that there was blood on his hands too. They weren’t changing, but before she could ask why, he told her, “We were running together today, and you fell. The bruises are from a fall.”

“But . . .” She nodded even as her mind fought to hold on to the truth of what had happened. The daimons, the blood, her hands—all of it was replaced with a hazy memory of a twisted ankle and bruised arm from tripping over something. A dog. One of those tiny little ones had darted into my path.

Mallory leaned on her father. “Why can’t people keep their dogs on leashes?”

Other people had arrived, and they were talking to her father. She tried to look at them, but she couldn’t focus. Witches. They were pulling a man and an animal into the back of a black van. She didn’t know why there were witches with her on her morning run. “Daddy?”

“Just a minute, Mallory.” He held her to his side.

“We have this, sir,” a woman said. Mallory blinked, but the witch was out of focus.

Her father pointed at her ankle. “Someone fix that. She can’t walk home like this.”

“Yes, sir,” another voice said.

Mallory’s eyes drifted shut, and when she opened them, her father was helping her into the house.

“Stay here.” Adam left her standing just inside the door and went into the kitchen.

She knew there was something she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Mostly, she wanted to take a nap until her headache went away. The walk home from her run was hazy. All she knew for sure was that if she’d gone running alone like she did most days, she’d be hobbling home because of that yappy little dog that had darted into her path.

When her father returned, he had a trash bag in his hand.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” she said.

“Of course.” He walked her to the bathroom. At the door, he stopped. “I need the clothes you have on. Put them in the bag. Then take a good soak, and stay home today. Make sure to use the bath oils I made for you, Mals. That will make your head feel better too.”

Mallory did as she was told.

Good daughters always obey.