The Volunteer
Someone shouts something near the door at the top of the stairs.
The monster whines.
I pull my gun from my holster. “Keep fucking quiet, or you’ll be the first to die.”
I don’t know if these cobalt bullets work the same on shifters, but if he wants to find out…
I chamber a round and point the barrel at the kennel.
I’m not dying over whatever bullshit is unfolding up there.
Something crashes through the door.
The sound is deafening, and the sudden gust of air blows out one of the three candles I have on the floor.
Footsteps start down the stairs.
More than one person.
I back up, raising my gun.
My back bumps against the wall, and I try to stop my hand from shaking.
The lock was broken. It could be some of The King’s guys who broke down the door.
A vicious snarl echoes down the stairwell, and I use my left hand to help steady my gun.
That animal sound was from outside.
The footsteps I hear are from shoes.
My mouth opens to demand they stop. But no sound comes out.
The two candles create small circles of light.
But I see flowy fabric as the intruders take the last step.
Two of them.
They take a synchronized step forward.
More of the candlelight crawls up their forms. And I realize they’re shorter than I am.
I narrow my eyes.
Are they women?
Some of the tension leaves my shoulders.
What’s a woman gonna do?
They take another step forward.
And I see the horns.
Vampires.
I pull the trigger.
The sound is so loud.
I wince as I fire again and again.
The muzzle flare is blinding, but I know I’m hitting them. They’re ten feet away. Their robes are moving with the hits.
I pull the trigger again.
I know I’m fucking hitting them.
Through the ringing in my ears, I hear the clink of metal dropping to the floor.
I swallow.
Counting.
And with one bullet left, I turn the gun on the monster.