Chapter 15
Fifteen
Hunter
What rushed through the open door was unlike any creature Hunter had ever seen before, and he’d been alive for almost a thousand years. At first, he thought it might be some kind of strange demon, but after staring at the beast for a while, he dismissed that idea.
It was a person.
There was nothing left to indicate their identity. They’d been human at one point, but most of that had been stripped away. Dressed in a bloodstained gray jumpsuit, their arms had been…replaced, for lack of a better word.
Instead, there were two huge bears arms sewn into the shoulder sockets. It was not a delicately done surgery, with large, awkward stitches and pus bubbling at the connection points.
Their face was slack and expressionless, and their pupils were entirely white. Their skin was a sickly gray, the color of chicken left in the refrigerator far past its sell-by date.
Even in his hellhound form, a wave of revulsion ran down Hunter’s body. He’d seen many strange and disgusting things in his life, and done his fair share of brutal killing, but he’d never felt such an overwhelming aura of wrongness.
Ammon growled at the former human as a horrible realization hit Hunter. This was a shell. This is what they’d done to the remaining body and primal instincts of a person whose soul had been eradicated.
It was an abomination.
As Ammon lunged, the creature opened its mouth, letting out a shriek that froze Hunter’s muscles. The fear that lodged in his gut was all-consuming, and it took effort to shake himself out of the state of terror.
He did so just in time, as the creature moved fast, swinging one of its claws right for him as he moved into a shadow behind the beast. Hunter spun around, jumping on the creature’s back even as Ammon got hit with a powerful blow. The claws left deep parallel cuts on the pack leader’s side.
Once in place, Hunter closed his jaws on the back of the poor creature’s neck, only to find its skin was far thicker and more resilient than the typical human’s. He didn’t give up, though, continuing to bite with his long fangs, attempting to puncture through the layer of protection.
Hunter knew he was successful when the creature let out a wordless cry of frustration and pain. Blood poured into his mouth.
It tasted horrible, metal and death, like a charnel house made of iron.
Resisting the overwhelming urge to find water and cleanse his mouth of the foul flavor of rot and death, Hunter held on for dear life, hoping he might truly damage the thing.
He caught glimpses of Ammon, who had gotten up from his injury and continued his attacks, although he was less nimble than usual. Still, Hunter stayed the course, hoping enough of that disgusting blood was spilling to do actual damage.
The creature, perhaps sensing Hunter’s commitment to bleeding it out, turned its attention away from the hound nipping at the front, and instead fell backward.
The beast was willing to injure itself to achieve its goal. Hunter didn’t understand what was happening until it was almost too late.
Jumping off and scrambling away, Hunter wasn’t fast enough. One of his hind legs was caught underneath the toppling monster. As it was happening, he wasn’t particularly concerned. After all, he was a hellhound. What damage could a human form do just by landing on him?
Unfortunately, the beast was much heavier than he’d expected. When its body hit the floor, Hunter’s leg trapped between the two, he heard his bones crunch even as a sharp, eviscerating pain bloomed in his ankle and knee.
He let out a loud howl of pain and fear, even as both he and the creature were enveloped in hellfire. Ammon was burning the twisted thing.
The magical flame couldn’t hurt Hunter, of course: he was a hound of Hell. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t in trouble. He was still trapped by the monster, and with it now screaming and writhing, the agony intensified a hundredfold.
Hunter’s sight went white with pain. When he breathed through the shock and calmed his system, his vision cleared to reveal Ammon tugging at the monstrosity, trying to pull it off him.
As his pack leader managed to shift the creature an inch, Hunter pulled hard on his trapped leg, desperate to set himself free. He fought through the eviscerating pain, finally releasing his limb from its prison.
When he went to put weight on it, though, it buckled underneath him.
He was lucky he was in his hellhound form. With three other legs, he could drag the broken one behind him and still have some mobility.
That didn’t mean it would be easy to continue the fight. Hunter’s agility had been compromised, and despite the hellfire and all its screeching, the abomination had pushed itself back to standing.
Ammon was leaping toward the creature’s throat, but Hunter could no longer jump. Instead, he went for the thing’s Achilles tendon, hoping to cripple it.
It didn’t make sense how invulnerable the monstrosity was. Hunter clamped down hard on its ankle, yet once again his powerful jaws couldn’t pierce the skin. Still, he wouldn’t let go.
He was practically chewing on the thing’s ankle and simultaneously dodging its bear arms, which were flailing as it continued to react to the hellfire engulfing it. Hunter hung on for dear life, slowly shredding the creature’s supernaturally thick epidermis.
He was almost through when—
Thwack.
The claw caught him right on the side, sending him careening across the bar. He landed hard against the jukebox. The cracked shards of glass and plastic dug into his skin as he struggled to move.
He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure how, but the Forbidden Ones had endowed their creation with a strength equal to that of a hellhound. It was a shock. Hunter hadn’t fought many things in his life with the ability to truly injure him. Now this one had taken him out.
The world blurred around him as he fought to stay conscious. Ammon was fighting a losing battle as the beast batted the pack leader’s body about. He was hardier than Hunter, but he wasn’t invincible. Eventually he’d give out as well.
Hellfire flared hot around Ammon, but although the creature continued to scream in pain, it was no longer incapacitated, despite the fur on its arms burning away and its skin turning black.
Hunter caught a flash of movement from behind the bar. Why were Tristan and Nathan still here? When the fight turned, they should have run out the back.
Human beings were both weak and foolish. Why didn’t they value their lives more? They were like children, putting themselves in harm’s way without thinking twice.
As Ammon got backed into the bar, Hunter’s blood ran cold at what he saw.
Nathan had stood up and smashed a whiskey bottle against the bar top, preparing to strike at the monster.
Stupid fucking priest. What was wrong with him?
The hellhound fought once again to stand, to fight, despite his body giving out. Hunter dragged himself toward the fight, knowing there was no chance. His injuries guaranteed he’d be too late to stop Nathan from getting himself killed.
Thunderbolts of horrific pain shot through his body as he snarled in frustration. No matter how hard he pushed, he couldn’t force himself to go faster. At some point, his physical being just gave out.
Hunter collapsed into a heap, his mind screaming as Nathan raised the broken bottle. Right now, the beast wasn’t looking at his mate, but once the priest struck, it would be over. Hunter wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn’t. He had to watch.
Nathan brought the sharp-edged bottle down, somehow puncturing the creature’s skin, blood flowing from its head. Hunter howled in desperate warning, but he knew it would be ignored.
The thing turned, roaring in agony, lifting its claw to swipe at his mate when a sudden blur shot in from the street, a figure moving so fast Hunter couldn’t make it out, especially considering his failing vision. There was a whirl of movement and…
The creature’s head hit the ground with a thud, severed with one clean cut.
Standing behind the now-dead abomination was a man. With a rugged, scarred face and sandy blonde hair, he held a Scottish claymore in both hands, blood now staining its glimmering surface.
It was Eli. His brother had come, and he’d saved Nathan’s life.