Doomsday Can Wait (Phoenix Chronicles, #2)(16)

Nevertheless, I couldn't take the chance that I'd be downed; I wouldn't let the howler walk over my inert body and make his way to Jimmy. I might have to kill Sanducci later, but there was no way I was going to let a Nephilim do it.

According to Dr. Gray, the way to kill a howler was to separate the head from the body. Too bad I'd forgotten my samurai sword as well as my axe. I wasn't sure how I was going to kill this thing, but I had to try.

The beast made me nervous the way it kept arching its neck, trying to peer around me and making a noise that sounded suspiciously like mmmm. Perhaps dhampir was a howler delicacy. What did I know?

Suddenly the thing threw back its head, spread out its arms, and released a horrific, inhuman howl. The sound bounced off the cave walls, pounding at my eardrums until I-wanted to cover them with my hands. I was paralyzed by it, so when the howler stepped forward and tried to bitch-slap me, I barely managed to duck.

Off balance, I fell to my knees. My ears rang from the lasting echo of the call, but I dipped my shoulder and rolled, even as it swiped at my head with razorlike claws. A whiff of air skated past my cheek.

I gained my feet, spun away from another swipe, then back-flipped to avoid the bear hug, and clipped it on the chin with my heel. I held on to my knife, but I lost the flashlight. It didn't really matter since we were now close enough to the entrance to be illuminated by the fading daylight and the flashes of lightning from the approaching storm.

Where the hell was Summer? She had to have checked her half of the caves by now. She'd no doubt flitted back to the Impala to wait for me. The way things were going she'd be waiting into eternity.

How long before she came looking for me? Would she be in time? Would she be of any use if she was?

I couldn't depend on her, couldn't depend on anyone but myself. What else was new?

The howler lumbered after me, took a ponderous swing. I ducked, and when I came up, I stuck him with my silver knife.

He roared that horrific combination of howl and bugle—wolf and elk—that made my ears ache, but he didn't burst into ash. I hadn't figured he would. He wasn't a shape-shifter, so silver wouldn't kill him. I was just buying time.

I tried to yank my knife out, maybe stick him again if I could, but it was buried to the hilt. My fingers, slick with blood, slipped, and I ended up leaving the weapon in the howler's chest.

I was down to my speed, my strength, arid my wits.

"This oughta go well," I murmured.

My voice infuriated the Nephilim. He brayed that dreadful sound again, and the slight paralyzation that followed the near-bursting of my eardrums allowed him to step in close.

This time when he bitch-slapped me, I flew. As my back hit the rock face, I caught a flash of movement from the rear of the cave.

I slid to the ground, blinked hard to clear away the stars in time to see Jimmy shove the howler in the chest. The beast fell back several paces. Jimmy's eyes blazed—just as I'd imagined they might—red at the center. Fangs flashed. He snarled like a rabid animal, and I tensed, expecting him to spring forward and sink those sparkly whites into the Nephilim's neck.

Instead, he placed one hand on the howler's head, the other on its shoulder, and yanked the beast in two like the wishbone on a chicken.





CHAPTER 7


Blood sprayed everywhere, turning the dirt floor black, my white shoes red, speckling my shirt and my face.

Jimmy dropped the howler's head, and it landed on the ground with a sickening thud, bouncing a few feet before stopping with the human nose pointing skyward through the overgrown, bestial dark hair. The body stayed upright for several seconds, still pumping blood toward the ceiling in a bright crimson stream.

Why hadn't I thought of that? I'd been stuck on weapons—knives, swords, saws. I hadn't learned yet to think outside the box when it came to killing.

Would my superior dhampir strength have been enough to tear a Nephilim in two? I doubted it. Most likely the superhuman powers of a vampire were necessary.

Covered in blood, Jimmy stared at the howler. Fists clenching and unclenching, he licked his lips.

All that blood. How could he resist?

My chest began to burn as I held my breath, waiting for him to lean over and put his mouth beneath the slowly dying stream like a child with the garden hose on a hot summer day.

I drew in a lungful of air, wincing at the pain in my ribs. They'd heal, probably in the next few minutes, but right now— "Ouch."

I should have kept my mouth shut. Jimmy's head jerked in my direction. The red light at the center of his eyes had faded, his fangs retracted. He would have looked exactly like the boy I'd loved, if not for the blood all over his face.

His mouth formed the word Lizzy, then he held out his red-slicked hands and cringed. Before I could say or do anything, he ran, straight past me and into the depths of the cave in a blur of speed that my eyes could barely track.

I forced myself to stand, retrieve the flashlight, and follow him. In the distance something large hit a water surface. I followed the scent of rain to another, smaller cavern, which contained a pond.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. Water trickled down the rock face, making gentle, peaceful music, in direct contrast to the sight of Jimmy bobbing in the center, scrubbing frantically at the blood on his face, his neck, and his hands.

I really wanted to jump in, too, but with Jimmy channeling Lady Macbeth, I figured I'd better wait, so I took a seat on the edge.