Dreamfever
Page 102

I watched the boar slink off across the field. In a few moments, it would be clear of the pouch of stones, and I would retrieve them. Not that I trusted them much. But they were better than nothing, and I needed them to secure the Book when I got out of here.
I’d just begun to step forward to pick up my cell, then go for the stones, when an enormous gray beast suddenly exploded in a blur of horns and fangs and talons from nowhere.
I stumbled back.
It slammed into the boar’s side, sank fangs into its throat, grabbed its neck, and ripped off its head, spraying blood, taking its kill down between me and the pouch.
Growling, it hunkered over the boar’s body and began to eat.
I stared, hardly daring to breathe. If the thing had been standing upright—and it looked as if it could—it would come close to nine feet. It had three sets of sharp, curved horns spaced at even intervals on two bony ridges that ran down each side of its head. The first set was at its ears, the second midway back on its skull, and the final pair sprouted from the rear of its head and curved downward toward its back. Hanks of long black hair tangled around a prehistoric face, with a crested forehead, prominent bones, and deadly fangs. Its hands and feet were lightly webbed with long talons. Its skin was slate gray, smooth as leather. It was massively muscled and obviously male.
I hadn’t seen or heard it coming.
I wasn’t about to try out-growling it or attempt to use my newfound skill in Voice, which might or might not work on animals. If I was very lucky, I’d get to slink away quietly, without it ever noticing me. Bluffing a boar was one thing. The boar had been a simple animal, one that might have sprung from earth’s genetic codes. I didn’t need a DNA test to tell me this one hadn’t.
I began easing back slowly, barely lifting my feet from the ground. I’d have to come back later for my cell phone and the stones.
Its head snapped up and it looked straight at me, blood all over its face. So much for my hope of slinking off unnoticed.
I held perfectly still, one foot in the air. Bunnies freeze to outwit enemies. Supposedly, bears are deceived by it.
It wasn’t fooled. It sat back on its haunches and considered me with cunning, narrowed eyes, as if trying to decide what I might taste like. Rage burned in its gaze, as if it were a lion with thorns permanently embedded in all four paws.
I held my breath. Eat the boar, I willed. I’m lean muscle, not plump pork belly.
It shifted its body away from the boar toward me, completely dismissing its kill. Shit, shit, shit.
I was its target now.
With no warning whatsoever, it was suddenly on all fours, running straight at me. The thing was preternaturally fast.
I fumbled my dirk from my sheath and dropped into a crouch, heart slamming in my chest.
“STOP RIGHT THERE!” Voice swelled out of me, saturating the air, echoing in a thousand voices. It was formidable, phenomenal, daunting as hell. I couldn’t believe I’d made such a noise. Barrons would have been so proud. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” I roared. “YOU WILL NOT HARM ME!”
Unaffected, the monster kept coming.
I braced myself for impact. There was no way I was going down without a fight. If it stayed on all fours, I’d feint and twist, go for its eyes with my dirk and what was left of my nails. Maybe its male parts. Whatever I had to do to survive.
Half a dozen feet away, the horrific thing stopped so abruptly that it clawed open the earth with its talons. Chunks of sod went flying, narrowly missing my head. Its yellow eyes narrowed to slits, and it snarled.
It was so close to me that I could feel the gust of its hot breath, smell the fresh warm blood on it. I stared at it wildly. It had vertical pupils, expanding and contracting in alien yellow eyes. It bristled with fury, chest heaving in short, rapid pants, as it snarled incessantly.
Shifting its weight forward, it shook its head and snapped its jaws. Saliva and blood sprayed me.
I cringed but didn’t dare wipe it away.
Suddenly it rippled into motion, with such smoothly muscled grace that for a bizarre moment I found it … beautiful. The thing was a natural-born executioner. It was at the top of its game. Powerful, uncomplicated animal. It had few purposes in life. It had been born and bred to kill, conquer, reproduce, survive. For the duration of that strange moment, I nearly envied it.
It began circling me, taloned hands and feet ripping up tufts of grass and dirt, tossing its head from side to side, yellow eyes burning with bloodlust.
I turned with it, never taking my eyes from its face. I stared into that killing gaze, as if I could hold it at bay with a mere refusal to be cowed. Was this some kind of preslaughter ritual? It hadn’t done it to the boar.
It stopped, cocked its horned head, tipped its monstrous face, and … sniffed in my direction.
What the hell was it doing? I held my breath, hoping I smelled inedible. The fangs—God, those fangs were as long as my fingers!
It didn’t seem to like whatever it had smelled. The smell seemed to make it even angrier. It growled long and low, then, without warning, it lunged!
Dirk clenched in my fist, I held my ground. Our actions define us. I would either live or die fighting.
But I didn’t get the chance to fight.
At the last second, the monster howled and twisted in midair.
All I saw was a blur of motion. One moment it was launching straight for me, the next it was tearing through the grass, racing back to the boar. As I watched, it sank its fangs into the boar’s flesh and, with a violent shake of its head, flayed it open and began to eat, bones crunching, gristle popping.