Devil Sent the Rain - D. J. Butler Page 0,9

fast as he could manage, out of a rattling pants pocket.

“They want Jim,” the fairy said, shaking a baton like a pointer.

Eddie and Mike shuffled forward, shooting, and as a result, they took their fair share of attacks, but Twitch was right—the brunt of the assault hammered down on Jim with brutal, unrelenting force.

The singer held his own, leaping onto tabletops to make great slashing attacks, and then when the monsters grabbed at his ankles, vaulting over their heads to ride their very backs, but he was slowing down, and there were dozens of them.

“That suggests a plan,” Adrian mused. Over the shuffle and scrape of the combat, the pistol fire and the howling of the wind, he could barely hear his own words. “Here, take this.” He snapped the full clip into the MAC-11 and handed it back to Mouser, then began reloading the other.

“The windows open over concrete,” Twitch told him sourly. “The wind’s too strong for me and the fall will be unpleasant for any of you.”

Adrian harrumphed and pocketed the full clip. “That dead end only underscores the awesomeness of my plan.”

“Which is?”

“Get to the van and get out of here. Rob a gas station to fill the tank.”

“Agreed.” Twitch laughed, a laugh like silver water that turned Adrian on a little bit, despite his fear and the waves of exhaustion lapping at his body. The frisson of arousal made him nervous, but only slightly. It was just Twitch, after all. “I was imagining you might tell me some of the intermediate steps.”

Adrian pointed. “Get Jim into the green room. These things follow him, we have them corralled.”

Twitch didn’t even linger long enough to say she approved. She just sprang into the air, horse’s tail trailing behind her, and the rest of her body metamorphosing into a silver falcon in a split second. She snapped her wings once and was across the hall, swooping among thrashing monsters and reappearing in her drummer form in a divot of cleared space among her three band-mates.

“Come on.” Adrian led Mouser by the wrist to the landing at the top of the stairs. He opened the door to the green room and positioned Mouser facing the hall. In the tumult of struggling limbs he could make out flashes of Jim, cutting his way through the monsters towards the stage and its green room entrance. Then Twitch the horse appeared in the fray, kicking a hole through the mound of monsters with her two hind hooves. Jim, Mike and Eddie broke into a run.

“Get ready,” Adrian warned Mouser.

“What do I do?”

“If they head this way, shoot them.”

“I can do that.” The gopher thumbed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and adjusted her grip on the MAC-11.

“By them I mean the monsters,” Adrian clarified, and then thought he should probably clarify even a little more. “The ones not in the band.”

He shot a glance down the stairs. It was quiet—no monster sounds, but no restaurant sounds either, and no music. Maybe all the diners had turned into wormy-twisted-six-limbed freaks, too. He heard the distant echo of storm sounds, and didn’t know if the restaurant’s doors were open or the wind and rain noises of the hall itself were bouncing back at him up the stairs.

B-rap-p-p-p-p-p!

Adrian snapped his attention back around to see one of the creatures explode into green goo. The herd of them charged at Jim, who stood in the green room door, holding them at bay, while Eddie, Mike and Twitch sprinted down the length of the green room in Adrian’s direction.

“Wow, these things are stupid,” Mouser observed.

“Good,” Adrian grunted.

Twitch bounded out of the green room first, followed closely by Eddie and Mike.

Adrian felt sweat run down his back and his forehead, and his breathing felt tight. Not now, he told himself, not now. He patted his pockets looking for the nicotine gum and couldn’t find it.

“We get outta here,” the Mexican bass player said, “remind me that I want to sharpen the head of that bass.”

“Not sure it needs it,” Eddie grumbled. “But it ought to have kill notches carved on the neck, that’s for sure.”

Adrian felt woozy. “Pinch me,” he said to Mike.

“Carajo,” Mike cursed, but did it immediately. “Don’t fall asleep now!”

“Come on!” Eddie yelled to Jim, and stepped out of the way.

Jim turned and ran.

Adrian saw him coming in stop-motion, feeling his own body slow down, and he screwed his entire will, all the force of his ka into one tiny point, the point