Rebel:. Zoe Archer

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СКАЧАТЬ hand dropped from her revolver. “Lesperance?”

      He made a small yip of acknowledgment, followed by another warning growl as he looked off into the woods, his ears swiveling toward an unheard sound.

      “What is it?” Astrid whispered, rolling up into a crouch. An odd conversation. She’d never met a shape changer. But the novelty of this had no place now as her senses struggled to full wakefulness. There was a threat out there.

      Lesperance moved as though to head toward it, but stopped a few feet away. He swung back to her, pacing around her, as if forming some kind of barrier between her and whatever lurked in the darkness. A low growl rumbled in his throat, deep and continuous.

      Suddenly, Astrid heard it. Rhythmic beats upon the ground. Steady and fast. A horse. Big, by the sound of it, and riderless. Even a bareback Indian would change the sound of a horse’s hoofbeats. Wild horses weren’t unknown in these parts, but they roamed in small herds, never alone, as this one was. She could only hear it as it headed directly toward her and Lesperance.

      Astrid drew her revolver, cocked it, and waited. The wolf’s growls grew louder as the hoofbeats drew closer.

      The trees at the edge of the campsite exploded. The air filled with awful screams as a beast plunged out of the night, straight toward Astrid. Lesperance darted forward with a snarl, shoving her aside, and snapped his wicked teeth at the creature.

      It was a horse, but no ordinary horse. Bigger than even the sturdiest draft horse, black as tar, with eyes blazing like an inferno and hooves the size of trenchers. Its mane was a black tangle, and about its neck swung heavy iron chains. The fetid smell of the underworld clung to its flecked hide.

      She heard, distantly, the sounds of their horses and mule neighing and braying in fright. At least they were hobbled so they couldn’t run off, but they surely wanted to. Astrid could not blame them.

      “Hell,” she muttered. “A púca.” A particularly nasty creature from Ireland. And she knew precisely who had summoned it. She leapt backward to shield herself from its flying hooves and hot breath. Its mouth was full of cutting fangs that tore at the air.

      Lesperance shot toward the monster, snarling, lunging for its legs. The púca clumsily dodged the wolf’s advances and let out a screeching whinny when Lesperance tore a chunk from its front leg. Sticky black blood spurted onto the ground and Lesperance’s fur.

      So the beast could be harmed. Good. Some magical creatures couldn’t be affected by such things as knives, teeth, or bullets. But this one could. Steadying herself, Astrid took aim with her revolver.

      The púca bolted toward her as she readied her shot. Abruptly, the chains about its neck unwound themselves and flew at her. Astrid cursed and flung up an arm for protection. A heavy chain wrapped itself around her forearm. Astrid clawed at it, but the chain would not release her.

      Then it was pulling at her, dragging her toward the púca. She dug her heels into the ground, scattering their gear lying there, but could not stop the chain’s relentless tugs. Her arm blazed with pain as she fought to liberate herself. She had to get free before she was forced onto the beast’s back. Anyone who mounted a púca would be carried off, never to be seen again—alive.

      The Heirs must want her out of the way to get to Lesperance, but like hell would she let that happen. She pulled harder against the chain. Yet it made it damned difficult to aim her revolver.

      A wild growl tore the night, something silver and black flew through the air, and the púca shrieked. Astrid was tugged off her feet as the monstrous horse reared up, the wolf gripping the púca’s back with sharp nails. Astrid fell to the ground and rolled, dodging hooves as the beast tried to shake Lesperance from its back. But he held firm, digging into the creature’s flesh. He plunged his teeth into the púca’s neck. The monster screamed.

      Drops of thick blood spattered onto Astrid as she struggled to avoid the careening, wounded creature’s enormous hooves. She might have her head smashed in by the panicked beast.

      She pulled again on the chain around her arm and let out a gust of relief when she found she could tug free. The wolf’s attack distracted the púca and its dark magic. Without the chain’s restraint, she rolled away, out of the path of the bucking monster. Astrid leapt to her feet and steadied herself, legs braced wide, as she aimed her gun.

      “Jävlar,” she cursed. Lesperance still clung to the creature’s back, biting whatever he could sink his teeth into. No matter how hard the púca bucked, it couldn’t dislodge him. But it was too dark and the monster too frenzied for Astrid to take a proper shot, not without possibly hitting Lesperance.

      “Let go,” she shouted.

      The wolf’s ears swiveled to catch her words, but the animal didn’t release its hold on the púca. In fact, the damned wolf snarled at her.

      “Let go,” she yelled again, “so I can put a bullet in its damned head!”

      That seemed to convince him. With a final growl, Lesperance released his death grip and sprang away. The moment he was clear, Astrid fired. Her bullet slammed into the púca’s eye.

      An ordinary horse would have fallen to the ground, dead, in an instant. Even, perhaps, in other circumstances the púca would have been killed. But the world’s magic was stronger now. The púca shrieked once more and wheeled away. It dove for the shelter of the trees, and Astrid shot again. If she hit the creature, she couldn’t tell, because it evaporated into a noxious mist. In a few seconds, the only thing remaining of the beast was the smell of putrid, stagnant water.

      She let out a slow breath, holstering her gun. The wolf trotted up to her.

      They stared at each other in the sudden silence of night. It licked at the blood on its muzzle as it gazed levelly at her—almost a challenge, both to itself and to her. This is what I am.

      And this is what I am, she thought in answer.

      Lesperance let out a small woof of understanding. She almost smiled. Both of them, barely civilized.

      Astrid reached out as if to scratch between the wolf’s ears, then stopped herself. He was not a pet. This was a man within a wolf. As for the man…she and he were allies, but not friends.

      He must have seen this in her face. Lesperance backed up, then cast a glance over to the pile of clothing he’d left behind earlier. He made a soft whine of distress, looking back at her. She understood.

      Astrid turned away and heard the sounds of shifting, movement. Clothing being gathered and donned. When she turned back, Lesperance in his human form stood by the remains of the camp, dressed. A curious and uncharacteristic vulnerability hung about him, even though he still had blood on his mouth, blood he’d drawn with his wolf’s teeth and wolf’s nails.

      “Still hard to believe I can do that,” he said, low. He wiped at his mouth and smiled grimly at the dark smears left on his sleeve. Yet another bloodstain on his clothing.

      “You did, and did it well.” She also dabbed at the gore on her clothes. She began to move through the camp, gathering up the things that had been scattered during the fight.

      He snarled, “The Heirs sent that…thing.” Heglared toward where the púca had dispersed. “I’ll rip their fucking guts out. You could’ve been killed.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ