The Storm Runner (The Storm Runner 1)

I can scratch out their eyes, Brooks offered, squeezing my hand tighter.

My companions were right. There was no way past these dirtbags, only through them.

“Um, no offense, guys,” I said to the demons, “but I’ve got some travel plans. Maybe I can swing by later?”

“Give us the girl,” my clone said.

Girl? Brooks? I held up my hand in protest. “You guys have it all wrong. It’s me you want.”

Just when I thought the demons were going to lunge, thick handfuls of coarse black hair grew out of two of the demons’ mouths at an alarming rate. It cascaded down their bodies and onto the ground, where it crawled toward us. We all screamed.

I ducked, slipping between my look-alike monster’s legs, but not before the hair reached me, climbed my body, and wrapped itself around my neck, covering my mouth and pinning me to the asphalt.

Clutching the band of hair to allow me to breathe, I glanced over to see Brooks in the same position, kicking and squirming while the hair nearly obscured her face. But where was Hondo? Oh God—had the hair already smothered him? Had his twin taken him down?

No—I saw him head-ramming his clone. Or was his clone head-ramming him?

With every ounce of strength I had, I tried to tear the hair away from my throat and out of my mouth, but it was impossible. It was too powerful. I was going to get choked to death by demon hair!

All of a sudden Hondo was swinging a butcher knife around like a crazy man, hacking away at the black ropes. The hair hissed and writhed. Finally it let me go.

I scrambled to my feet. Hondo gave me a these-guys-are-nothin’ smile. But before I could shout Look out! his twin whacked the knife out of his hand and head-butted him in the back. He collapsed to his knees.

Brooks rolled across the asphalt, grabbed the knife, and stabbed her demon in the leg. It fell to the ground, howling.

My demon spun me into a headlock. It was too weird clutching my look-alike’s skinny arm. Then it came to me. I knew the demon’s weakness! With a left jab to his groin, I slipped out of his grasp, circled behind him, and swept his bad leg. As he collapsed, I jumped onto his back, locking him in a choke hold.

Brooks was busy running and ducking out of the Hondo monster’s reach. Where the heck was Hondo? I jerked my guy’s neck back like my uncle had taught me.

Schripp.

Uh-oh.

His thin-skinned neck ripped open easily. Brooks was right; it was pretty creepy to demolish someone who looked exactly like you. He crumpled to his knees and I hopped off his back as he gripped his open neck. Black tar-like gunk oozed out, along with chunks of hair. Man, the smell actually singed my nose hairs. Then he turned into a ribbon of black mist and was gone.

One down. Two to go.

I spotted Hondo, tool belt secured around his waist, charging madman-style—wild eyes, screeching howl. A screwdriver hurtled through the air and wedged into the Hondo demon’s skull.

“Bull’s-eye!” Hondo hollered, pumping his fist.

The Hondo-demon stumbled, jerked the hammer free, and righted himself. His face began to crack like dried mud, crumbling to the ground to reveal… you guessed it, a blue-skinned monster head. Green veins throbbed and bulged.

Slime oozed from the holes in his face and his monster chest heaved.

“We want the girl alive,” said the demon. “But we’ll take her corpse if we have to.”

The air twisted and shimmered. A silvery smoke rose from the ground and now, instead of two Brookses, there were six. Three of them had the other three in a choke hold.

Hondo crouched like a tiger ready to pounce.

My eyes searched each Brooks frantically, looking for any clue to tell me which was the real one. “You’ll have to take us down if you want her,” I said.

“Zane,” all the Brooks captives said in unison, “it’s a trick.” They were exact replicas—the voice, the freckles, the desperate eyes. How was I supposed to know which one to save?

It was like my dream where Rosie had appeared in all the trees. I remembered the flood, the fire…

My fingertips tingled. I felt an energy pulse beneath my skin and a power twisting from… the vat of frying oil inside the restaurant. Or was it coming from deep in the earth? Whatever it was, it was blazing hot. Something expanded inside of me, too big for my body to contain….I took a deep breath and—