The Hellhound's Un-Christmas Miracle - Zoe Chant Page 0,15

who shouldn’t be, obviously, given how they were avoiding her, but she couldn’t let that stop her. Or a wee bit of BO. She needed to get them out of here.

“My name’s Sheena,” she called, then glanced back over her shoulder. The fire hadn’t gotten any closer. “Look, I know shit’s weird right now, but it’s going to be safer outside than stuck in here—”

The words died in her throat.

In the half a second she’d looked away, the hallway in front of her had filled with smoke. Thick, rancid yellow smoke. It’s on fire, she thought, telling herself to move, reminding her sheep that out of fright or flight it had always chosen running the hell away, so time to get on with that, right? Because where there was smoke there was… fire…

Two fires. Pinpricks of flame, not on the walls or the floor but floating in mid-air. They blazed brighter as Sheena watched and the sweet-sick smell filled her nostrils.

Not fires, she realized as they got closer and the smoke below them twisted into the shape of fangs. Eyes.

Run.

It wasn’t her voice, or her sheep’s. It didn’t nudge up against her mind like another shifter’s telepathic voice. It rattled around the inside of her skull and pressed down on her until her knees almost gave out. Icy fingers clenched around her heart.

Run!

She ran. So fast and so blindly that she almost sprinted straight into the fire. Her feet skidded as she turned around. The trees—she had to get to the trees. Away from the fire, away from—

Footsteps behind you in the darkness. A chill breath on your neck. Eyes in the shadows. There’s no escape. It will find you.

Fear rose up inside Sheena, some primeval instinct that overrode everything else in her mind except the knowledge that she couldn’t possibly get away. Eventually, it would find her. But even if running was useless, she had to keep running, because it was better that exhaustion got her than—than—

Not that way! her sheep screamed at her. The fire!

Sheena swore as heat burst against her face. A ragged breath and her lungs filled with the rotten stench she’d scented earlier. She twisted away from something she couldn’t see but knew was there and ran down the street. Fuck. Into the street, surrounded by houses that were on fire, and—wait—there—if she could reach that gap, she’d be able to make it back into the trees—

She almost made it before another crash of fear sent her stumbling backwards.

Angry tears sprang to her eyes as she hit the ground. Gravel tore at her hands and knees. This time when she caught the sweet-sick scent, she kicked out automatically and hit—nothing.

She stood up slowly. Her face felt hot and stung when she touched it. She winced, eyes skittering over the burning houses, the smoke coiling up in the still air, the empty streets. The nothingness that frightened her so badly she’d almost run into a burning building.

Think, she begged herself silently. Not her sheep, for once. This time, she was begging herself, because she was the one whose mind wanted to run away from whatever was… whatever this was. Just stop, and… think.

Something was after her. Something that made every part of her remember she was prey, not predator. She couldn’t see it yet, but she knew it was coming, the same way she knew up was up and down was down. Maybe that made her crazy.

She might be crazy, but she wasn’t stupid. Not so stupid that she would run straight into a fire instead of away from it. Not unless what was happening here was real.

She had to do something to defend herself.

What? her sheep bleated, confused. What are you defending yourself from?

A sob of laughter lodged in her throat. Her sheep was right to be confused. Defend herself? She was a sheep shifter. Sheep didn’t defend themselves; they panicked, and ran astray, and let themselves be herded into little boxes.

Wait… Her blood ran icy cold. Was that what had just happened to her? Was she being herded?

Herded by what? her sheep sounded baffled. What are you doing? Stop running!

Stop running? No, I can’t let it—

Sheena blinked. Her heart was still racing, her armpits and back were wet with sweat, but she wasn’t afraid anymore.

The fear had slipped away so neatly, it was as though it had never existed.

A new sliver of unease wound itself around her heart. It felt different to the fear. It felt like it was hers, as though the fear