started and pull four mismatching wine glasses from the cabinet.
“You probably shouldn’t drink,” I say, looking at Ethan before I pour wine in a third glass. “Oh, and don’t forget to take your antibiotic after dinner.”
“I’d pass on the wine tonight, anyway,” he replies. “Though if you had beer or whiskey…”
“I’ll get some next time I go to the store,” I laugh. “I wish I liked beer. It looks good but tastes so gross.”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Laney notes. “You’ll like it if it you give it more of a try.”
“Nope,” I say and take a small sip of wine. As much as I’d like to welcome the carefree feeling that comes from a good buzz, I can’t let my guard down. Not now. “Anything that’s so gross I basically have to get used to it is a big no for me.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Laney laughs and sits across from me at the table.
“I’m going to get the sage,” Ethan tells me, kissing my forehead on his way past. “It’s in my Jeep.”
“Okay,” I reply and put my wine glass on the table, not wanting to drink anymore.
“Is Ethan sick?” Laney asks. Right, I mentioned him taking medication.
“No, he had to get stitches after we were attacked by demons,” I say, just putting it out there like Ethan suggested.
“Holy shit. When?”
“Yesterday.”
Laney looks at me, blinking, not sure what to say next. Truth be told, I’m not either. I don’t want to keep secrets, but a need-to-know basis should apply here. There’s no need to scare her with the nitty-gritty details.
Something falls to the ground in my room, and I stand, letting out a sigh. “What did you do now, Romeo?”
Hunter barrels through the kitchen as I go to leave, almost knocking me over. He paws at the door, whining like he desperately needs out.
“Hang on,” I tell him, but he paws at the door again, nails scraping against it. “Fine, you win,” I say, not remembering if he actually went potty on the walk. He bolts outside as soon as he can fit through the open door and runs to the very back of the yard. It’s chilly again tonight, and the wind blows, rattling the trees that line one side of my yard.
The creeped-out feeling comes back tenfold, and I desperately want to get inside—but not without my dog.
“Hunter!” I call, looking out in the dark. Usually, he’s very obedient and comes running as soon as I call him. “Hunter!” I call again, patting my leg. I didn’t turn the back lights on yet, and I think I can make out his dark outline near the garage. “Hunter!”
I narrow my eyes, trying to see if the gate is closed. We came in that way…fuck! I don’t remember closing it. My heart speeds up, and I hurry down the patio steps. Dew soaks the bottom of my pants as I walk barefoot through the yard. I call Hunter again, finding him sitting by the open gate on the other side of the garage. “What are you doing?” I ask him, watching him stare into the darkness. Reaching down, I run my fingers over his smooth fur and feel brave enough to close my eyes and let my shields drop. There’s always part of me that’s scared to do this, terrified of what I’ll see when I open my eyes again.
“Ryan?” I ask, trying to read the energy around us. It’s manic and dark. I don’t like it. Hunter growls. He doesn’t like it either. I close the gate, take a hold of Hunter’s collar, and give him a gentle tug. He stands and turns, following me to the house.
I get back onto the patio when Hunter stops. Growling, he takes off back into the yard. It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark again, but once they do, I see him.
A tall, hooded figure, with a long, pointed beak sticking out into the darkness. My heart skips a beat in fear, and for a moment, I’m paralyzed with fear. Realizing what danger I’m in, Hunter bounds over and stands in front of me, barking and snarling at the bird-demon.
I stand there, stunned for a second as I realize I have nothing to defend myself with. Hunter growls again, showing his teeth and looking menacing. The bird-demon inches closer, clawed hands raised and pointing at me.
Hunter turns, eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second before he lunges forward, strong jaws clamping around the