Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

I glanced over my shoulder.

Richard Collins stood at the other end of the bridge. He took a step toward me.

“It’s over,” Osmond said. “You’ve lost.”

I nodded. “Looks like.”

“You would never have won.”

I chuckled darkly. “Jesus Christ. Fucking get on with it.”

Osmond narrowed violet eyes. “What?”

“Don’t fucking talk at me,” I snarled at him. “You want me? Come and fucking get me.”

Osmond growled.

Richard roared.

And they ran toward me.

The bridge shifted and groaned.

There was a crack of wood from up above.

They leapt, just like I knew they would, but flying toward me.

I waited until the last possible second, hearing the sound of claws slicing the air before I dropped to my knees.

I threw my arm up, crowbar in hand, ends facing toward Richard and Osmond.

Their momentum was too great to change directions midair.

Richard struck the crowbar first, the point end impaling his chest, snapping bone and muscle even as the silver started to burn. My arm jerked the opposite direction with the force of the impact. The curved end of the crowbar smashed into Osmond’s throat. The silver scalded, and the pressure from Richard’s impact forced the curve into Osmond’s neck, stabbing and tearing through his throat. Blood sprayed out on either side of me even as their claws cut into my arms and chest, seizing and skittering along me as the pain from getting speared with silver started rolling through them.

My arms were drenched in blood, mine and theirs. I couldn’t hold the weight of both of them up, and the crowbar slipped from my bloody hands. They fell to the floor of the bridge with a loud crash, arms and legs kicking as they both gagged and flashed their teeth, trying to pull away from the bar lodged in their neck and chest. The bridge shook and creaked.

I scrabbled away, kicking out when Osmond reached for me, pushing my back up against the wooden wall of the bridge.

They were collapsed just out of reach, connected by the crowbar.

Both sets of violet eyes were on me.

There was pain, but it was distant. I couldn’t tell what blood was my own.

The bridge groaned again, louder than it had before.

The cracking of wood became louder, the struts starting to shake.

The whole goddamned thing was going to come down.

I almost didn’t care.

I wanted to close my eyes. Maybe sleep for a little while.

There was a low growl.

I looked down in front of me.