Darkness Unbound (Dark Angels 1)

I spun the bike around, leaving another trail of rubber behind me, and gunned up to the park. I jumped up the curb and rode into the park itself, scattering pigeons and chewing up the lovely green grass.

But there was no one here.

I swore, dropped the bike, and ran for the lane at the back of the park.

And I smelled them—two of the shifters who’d attacked me earlier.

I slid to a stop, my heart going a million miles a minute as I scanned the laneway. Neither Ilianna nor the shifters were in sight, but the wind brought me the scent of both.

I clenched my fists but resisted the urge to charge in. I was downwind of the shifters, so although I was aware of them, they wouldn’t have yet realized I was near.

If I could take out at least one, the odds would be more even. And if it came down to us against them, Ilianna was a mare, and more than capable of using her teeth and feet to protect herself.

But even a mare can’t outrace a bullet.

Fear rose, sharper and harder, but I shoved it aside. Mom hadn’t said how she would die—just that she would if I didn’t get here. Well, I was here.

And Ilianna wasn’t going to die.

I reached to my left and grabbed the top of the fence, hauling myself onto it and balancing somewhat precariously.

And found the first shifter.

He was crouched on the roof of one of the buildings that backed up against the lane, his attention on the top end of the lane. The rich gold of his hair said it was the lion shifter, and the glint of silver in his hand told me he was armed.

Just like that inner voice had feared.

God, there were days I cursed being clairvoyant. It only added to the fear, and this situation was bad enough without intuition heaping more shit on top of it.

I scanned the rest of the rooftops and trees, but couldn’t spot the other shifter. His scent was coming from the left—the opposite side of the lane from the lion shifter—but that was about as defined as the location got.

I glanced at the ground, looking for a weapon. The small backyard was concrete and basically held nothing but rotting leaves from the nearby gum trees and a stack of bricks.

But they were better than nothing.

I jumped down lightly, took off my helmet, then picked up three. Spiders crawled out of the middle holes and I had to resist my instinctive urge to drop them. They were mainly daddy longlegs and harmless, but my skin still crawled as one of them scampered across my hand. I blew it off, resisted another instinctive urge to jump up and down on the thing, and made my way back to the fence instead.

But as I hit the top of it, Ilianna appeared down at the far end of the lane. The lion shifter raised his gun.

“Ilianna, run!” I screamed.

A gunshot rang out. Ilianna twisted sharply and I couldn’t see if she’d been hit or not. Fear churned my insides, but I raised the brick and threw it as hard as I could—just as the shifter spun around to face me. The brick missed, but so did his second shot—this one aimed at me.

Ilianna’s footsteps disappeared down the street—she was running, as mares were wont to do when faced with danger—and relief surged. Running meant she was alive—and just then, that was all I cared about.

A third shot ripped the air. The bullet burned past so close to my shoulder I felt the heat of it, but before he could fire again, I threw another brick. This one hit him full in the face. Blood spurted and he howled, his voice thick with pain and fury.

The second shifter appeared, leaping over the fence of the house a few properties down. He raced toward me rather than Ilianna, but any relief I might have felt disappeared as I stared at him.

His eyes were filled with destruction.

My destruction.

They might need to talk to me, but it wasn’t going to be pleasant, and I wasn’t going to live for very long afterward.

Would Azriel step in to save me if things got that bad? I didn’t know and, to be honest, I really didn’t want the situation to even reach that point.

I flexed my fingers and watched the shifter, ignoring the ever-increasing urge to run. Running was useless. His legs were already elongating—thickening—until they were almost twice the length of mine. He had speed in droves—more than I could muster up, even as a half-wolf.