same need, the same feral hunger that the other ghoul had shown. Whatever that creature was, this was the same kind.
The girl let out a hiss as she rolled over onto her hands and knees. She mimicked Victoria's posture, crouched, ready to spring. At that moment, Victoria realized her hands were empty. She didn't dare take her eyes off the girl to search for her lost revolver. For all she knew, holding still was the only thing keeping the monster from attacking. Her mind raced. Cora was still hollering at her from the bottom of the ladder, but she didn't answer. She couldn't. If the creature sprang at her, she would be defenseless.
In a flash, she remembered the crucifix in her belt. Cora had said something about the creatures fearing it. Mustering her courage, she began moving her hand toward her waist. If she could just reach it, she might have a chance.
The girl hissed again, and Victoria froze. She waited for the spring, for the impact of that small body against hers and the scraping of those teeth on her flesh. Child-sized hands curled into claws, but the girl remained crouched. Victoria steeled her nerves and moved her hand again. She didn't have much time.
As her fingers curled around the wooden figure, a gunshot rolled up through the floorboards. Victoria flinched, and the girl lunged at her. Tiny fingers gouged her arms as the two rolled over in the dust. The creature came out on top, teeth snapping, eyes dark with hunger. Victoria squeezed the crucifix in a death grip and brought it up. The wood pressed into the cold skin on the girl's neck. Smoke billowed as the flesh sizzled, and the girl rolled away with a choked cry.
Victoria scrambled to her feet, eyes probing the swirling clouds for her foe. There, on the far side. The girl was crouched again, a wild cat in human form, filled with need. Victoria extended the cross toward her. Hissing in anger, the creature shied away, retreating into the shadows.
Cross held out, Victoria began moving toward where she remembered her gun had fallen. It was slow going. She paused after each step, squinting after the girl. The savage form still lurked in the darkness, moving opposite the raised crucifix. At times, it seemed to meld with the shadows, slipping out of her sight only to reappear seconds later.
Another gunshot from below. Victoria could hear the hunter's voice yelling something, but she couldn't make out the words. No matter. At least Cora was still alive. Once she took care of whatever she was fighting down there, she would come up to the loft and make short work of this abomination.
As if reading her thoughts, the girl suddenly leaped to one side, vanishing behind a bale of hay. Victoria froze. Her gaze jumped from one end of the bale to the other, watching, waiting for that thing to emerge. The shadows played tricks with her eyesight. They swam and swirled in clouds of purple and black. She tried to blink them away, but they persisted, invading her sight even when her eyes were closed.
"Vicky!"
Victoria glanced at the ladder. "Get up here!" she called.
"No time," Cora yelled back. "Got me a critter down here somewhere."
"I have one up here, too."
"Well, sort it out. I got my hands full."
Victoria growled in frustration, turning her attention back to the hay bale. If Cora couldn't help her, she would just have to help herself. Stealing a quick glance behind her, she thought she saw a faint gleam on the floor. Her gun. It was close.
The sound of scrambling hands on the boards brought her head back around. In the corner of her eye, she caught a dark shape charging toward her. She whirled the crucifix to face it, but the girl was already airborne. They collided and went down. A blast of cold breath poured over her face. It had no smell. Small hands grabbed her neck, squeezing until she thought her eyes would pop out of their sockets. She punched at the girl's torso with an empty fist, trying to knock her away. The crucifix was gone.
Victoria could feel herself slipping away. Her lungs screamed for air. Her vision swam. With one last burst of energy, she flailed her arms out in both directions, praying, hoping the crucifix was still within reach.
Her fingers bumped into something cold. She grabbed for it. Metal. Her gun. Thank God, it was her gun.