Even Roger had stepped out of the way when she’d come barreling into the battle outside of his house. She had some kind of magic that trumped everyone in this field, not to mention the experience to complement it—he needed to allow her to choose the best approach.
She nodded at Devon, a show that she recognized his status. She might not like dealing with Roger, but she’d learned how to cooperate with an alpha. And she was extending that same courtesy to him.
“There’s a real strong demon milling around in that field, and a whole bunch of magic blocking their ugly mugs from non-magical view. I’ve never seen that spell before, but it’s as ancient as the spells used to call those demons. A few wicked spells have been layered in that would’ve blasted your faces off if you’d run in by yourselves.” Reagan shifted her stance, popping out a leather-clad hip supporting a scratched and beat-up leather fanny pack. “Yeah, someone was extending me an invite. Someone who knows I will eventually tell Penny and Emery that one of their best—whoever that might be—is working for one bad mammajamma. But in the meantime, I’ll capture that demon, break it down, and steal all its secrets. The rest I will turn inside out and make them rue the day they wandered into my home.”
“She is not right in the head, alpha,” Cole said, and everyone startled from the shotgun blast of sound. Three demons across the field moved, their bodies turning toward the pack.
“Quiet, snow-tits, or I’ll slap you around a second time,” Reagan murmured. She clapped and started forward. “Let’s do this. I’ll need a few of you to change and take down the lesser demons. I’m going to have my hands full with the more powerful one.”
“What about the spells?” Devon asked, shooting the shifters who needed to change a quick look. Barbara, Macy, Yasmine, Dale, and Rod dropped whatever they were carrying and shifted on the spot.
Cole grunted, clearly not happy about being left out, but didn’t protest. Devon wasn’t sure if that was because of him or Reagan. Dillon winced as he grabbed a duffel, as did Steve when he grabbed another.
“The spells are nothing. I’ll take those down,” Reagan said, walking fast.
“I can fight,” Charity said, struggling in Devon’s arms. “I’m okay. I’ll rally.”
What Reagan had said ripped through Devon’s mind.
Magical poisoning.
“No,” Devon said, a little too forcefully. He didn’t know much about magical poisoning, although he’d heard the words before. Didn’t matter. One simply needed to look at Charity’s face to know Reagan was absolutely right. Charity looked terrible. Worse than she ever had after a bad episode, almost like she was in the last stages of cancer. “We don’t need you.” Harsh words he softened by squeezing her in his arms.
A few poignant looks and his wolves fell in step, flanking him and Charity. Steve and Cole took the back, ready to change at a moment’s notice. They had a good unit. A strong unit.
But as they got closer to the waiting demons, Devon’s heart started to pound. He didn’t know squat about demons, but he knew these creatures were much more powerful than the ones in the parking lot. Their fire flared brighter, they were larger in stature, and their movements were more fluid and natural.
“You sure you got this?” Devon asked, Charity’s weight in his arms like a warning. Without shifting, he couldn’t protect her from those things. Hell, he couldn’t even fight them in human form with her cradled in his arms. Neither could he put her down. She could barely hold her head up, let alone hurry through a portal crossing. He’d need his pack to carry them through.
“One more shifter,” Reagan said without hesitation, her head high and her sword out. “The yeti. He’s an ornery bastard. He’s perfect for the job.”
Cole grunted, but again he didn’t protest. The bag he carried hit the ground. A roar rumbled through the field a moment later.
“Jesus, man, do you need to wake the neighbors?” Reagan murmured, jogging at the enemy now.
Another thought struck Devon. “Is she going to make the crossing like this?”
“I’m okay,” Charity said, her head lolling on Devon’s shoulder. “Anyone have a Red Bull?”
“She’s a fighter,” Dillon said, worry tracing his words. “She’ll make it.”
“She will,” Andy said, shouldering most of the luggage. “She’ll make it.”
“Seriously, you guys, I’m fine. Just tired.” One of Charity’s arms slid off Devon’s shoulder. “Slippery when wet.” She sighed and dragged