Charles lunged.
The sound pulled the old man's attention from the fight. "Les! Get your scrawny ass over here and give me my gun. You can't hit the broad side of a barn. Get a move on. My grandfather was faster than you when he was eighty-six."
Instead of trying for a second shot Heuter ran back toward Travis - proving to Anna that he was no Alpha wolf, whatever he thought he should be.
The bars gave a little bit more and she was sliding forward - and Travis hit her again, in exactly the same spot on her nose where he'd hit her the first time.
CHARLES KNEW HE was winning. He didn't know why Benedict Heuter wasn't going invisible; maybe he was too panicked to do it. Charles wouldn't complain. The horned lord healed faster than a werewolf, but he couldn't replace blood, not unless he was a lot more powerful than he seemed. Blood loss was slowing the fae down, making him clumsier.
There were things that would have made this better. The floor was too slippery - it was a dance floor and he could smell the wax on it. It bothered the fae more than it did him, though, so it wasn't really a major problem as long as he didn't miscalculate. He'd also rather not have two other villains loose and running around with silver-loaded guns while he fought the fae, but they were human and Brother Wolf's instincts were to discount them as a threat. The other thing he knew was that, winning or not, he had to keep his attention on the fae. Slower, clumsier - but he was fast enough and deadly with those antlers. He'd scored once on Charles's shoulder when he'd gone for the fae's throat, and it burned. The tips of those antlers didn't just look silver; they were silver.
The second rule of any drawn-out fight was to demoralize your opponent. The fae had started out scared of him. The strike to Benedict Heuter's face wasn't anything near fatal, but losing an eye was scary - and creatures with antlers and hooves were prone to panic. Fight or flight instinct, the scientists said. Wolves were all fight, and creatures like Benedict were all flight. Panic made people stupid, and since Benedict was already not all that bright from what Charles could tell, panicking him could only make things better.
Of course, the first rule in any kind of fighting was not to get into a long-drawn-out confrontation in the first place. Charles started to sprint forward again when there was a crack of a pistol. The bullet didn't hit him so he ignored it and continued his line of attack. But the small pained sound that Anna made almost immediately afterward was another thing entirely.
He looked over to see Anna half in and half out of the cage, her nose dripping blood, and Travis Heuter standing beside the cage with an extra-long, extra-thick pool cue that had been chewed up on one end. Anna jerked herself back into the cage, where all they could do was poke at her - and something hit him like a freight train in the ribs.
Ignoring the pain, he caught the horned lord's leg, just above his hock, and his fangs severed the big tendon and the smaller muscle there. In a human this would be the Achilles tendon, and slicing it rendered the fae's leg useless.
Benedict tried to put his leg down and fell when it collapsed under him. Charles slid under the antlers and closed his teeth on the horned lord's neck.
Benedict was beaten. Helpless.
He had raped Lizzie Beauclaire and doubtless dozens of others, probably killed as well. Brother Wolf thought he needed to be killed. Charles hesitated.
A car pulled up in a squeal of brakes and rubber and Charles recognized the sound of the van Isaac was driving. The cavalry was here, the horned lord subdued. Killing him to save Anna was unnecessary.
There was something wrong with Benedict's ability to reason, possibly wrong enough to make him not responsible for his actions. Had he been born into a different family, maybe he wouldn't have spent his adulthood killing people. He'd given up the fight, lying still beneath Charles and waiting for the final, killing strike just as deer or elk sometimes did. He was harmless. Imprisoned in bars of steel, he'd hurt no one.
On the island, Charles had decided that he would no longer kill for political expediency, because it had put Anna in danger