Another tremor ran through the old tree, stronger than before. The manarei was thrusting its weight against the trunk, trying to bring it down. Doyle looked up. The top of the tree was beginning to rock ever so gently. He shifted shape again and wrapped his legs around the branch, holding on for dear life. The tree began to sigh, pine needles rustling, as if stirred by the gentlest of breezes. The branch he was sitting on vibrated to the tune of the manarei's pounding, jarring his spine. Not even a tree as old as this pine had the strength to withstand the might of an enraged manarei for long. He reached to his left, plucking pinecones from the nearest branches and began bombarding the creature. It did little more than seriously annoy it, but right then, that's exactly what he wanted. An enraged creature was more likely to stay put and not remember the woman it was sent here to kill. As long as he stayed out of its way, everything should be okay.
The manarei howled its frustration, then sunk its claws into the trunk and began to climb.
He dropped the remainder of the cones, and scrambled to his feet. "You're not supposed to be able to climb, you bastard!"
The creature merely grinned, revealing long rows of gleaming teeth, and continued to climb. Doyle shifted shape once more and worked his way further up into the tree. But he was running out of room—and tree— fast. The branch beneath him snapped, and suddenly he was falling. Branches caught at his fur, tearing deep. He twisted, slashing wildly with his claws, trying to regain some purchase but catching only pine needles. Heard the guttural laugh of the manarei and the fetid warmth of its breath wash over him. Felt the air vibrate as the killing stroke closed in.
He twisted desperately, throwing himself to the right, away from the creature—away from the tree. Heard a sharp sound, felt something sting past his ear and the warm rush of blood, then he was hurtling uncontrolled toward the ground.
He twisted again, somehow managing to get feet-first before he hit the ground, but the impact shuddered through him. For an instant, it felt as if every bone in his body had shattered.
He shifted shape and collapsed onto his back, eyes closed and dragging in air. Death had come far too close, and for the first time ever, it had truly scared him.
Maybe because for the first time in his life it actually mattered whether he lived or died—because this time, he had something to lose beyond his life.
"About time you got here," he muttered, when he could.
"I've told you before not to tease them," Camille said, voice sharp. "It's your own damn fault it got so close in the first place." He opened his eyes. She was standing close by his side, a gun clenched firmly in two hands and aimed toward the tree.
"Did you kill it?"
She gave him a scathing look. "Of course I killed it. I can shoot a damn sight better than you, boy. Now get off your butt. There should be another one of them suckers around here somewhere."
He rose slowly. Every muscle protested, making him feel a hundred years old. "Did you bring me a weapon?"
She pulled a gun from the waistband of her leather pants and handed it to him. "You've got two shots, I've got one. That's it, so make them count."
"I will." He checked the gun then swiped away the blood running down his neck. Camille's shot had nicked his ear, but it could have been far worse had she not risked the shot and the manarei had gotten hold of him. "You'd better get inside that house and grab Trina. I'll keep watch—" He stopped. Magic burned across his skin, the same sharp, foul sensation as before.
Inside the house, someone began screaming.
***
Kirby was halfway down the driveway when her vision blurred. Suddenly she was inside the house rather than outside. In the rear of the house, in a room warmed by the summer sun, a manarei was creeping towards its unknowing victim. Fear clutched her heart and squeezed tight, and for several seconds she couldn't even breathe.
Then she was running up the steps, fingers alive with energy that she launched at the front door. It crashed open, but the sound got lost in the highpitched screaming coming from the rear of the house—screaming that abruptly died. The glass surrounding the door shattered, sending deadly-looking slivers slicing through the air. She raised her hands to protect her face and ran through the entrance.
'Trina!" she screamed. The only reply was a whimper of fear—a sound she felt like echoing.
She pounded down the hall, her footsteps echoing on the wooden floors. Saw Trina on the kitchen floor, scrambling backwards, one arm bloodied and dangling uselessly.
Saw the manarei, claws gleaming a bloody red in the morning light streaming in through the kitchen windows.
"Hey, reptile," she shouted, sliding to a stop just inside the doorway. Its head snaked around, eyes narrowing when it saw her. She didn't give it time to think or react but raised her hands and unleashed the fire. "Eat this!" Lightning netted the creature, surrounding it in a web of blue-white light and thrusting it back against the wall, away from Trina.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air. The creature howled, fighting the energy that held him captive. Pain shivered through her, adding fuel to her already agitated stomach. She'd never tried to hold the energy in a net before, had always used it as a weapon of attack rather than containment. But the energy itself couldn't kill a manarei. She'd learned that the hard way. Using it as a net was her only option, and it was tougher than she'd ever imagined it could be.
Sweat beaded her forehead, and the madmen in her head were beginning their pounding with renewed vigour. She wouldn't be able to hold the net for long, that was for sure.
She ran to Trina's side. Her face was pale, skin clammy, gray eyes more than a little vague as they met Kirby's.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice shrill, almost childlike.
"A friend from the past," Kirby said. Afriend you may not want to remember.