Page 93 of Teeth To Rip & Tear

But Tabitha couldn’t see the Gate.

Either that or she was so fixated on me that she ignored it altogether.

I wasn’t sure if I was heavier, but I had the element of surprise.

Tabitha chuffed a laugh, sitting back on her haunches as she watched me stand on shaky legs.

One burst of energy.

One final hurrah.

I wasn’t going to let that psycho bitch kill me.

Head down, teeth locked, I rammed her. Throwing my weight against her wolf, my forehead at her belly, as I pushed her back.

Tabitha had let me get close. My vision turned white as she bit my shoulder, fastened onto the fur there, and refusing to let go.

I didn’t care about getting hurt. I was going to push her through the Gate.

Grandmother Eva had always said going between worlds was a different kind of pain. Like being torn apart and put back together again.

Inch by inch, I pushed the wolf into the Gate. She refused to let go of my shoulder, and blood dripped onto the bracken. The fluttering edges of reality grasped the air, hungry, the translucent tendrils fastening on the wolf as if to do my bidding.

She took a chunk from my shoulder, her teeth still locked on my skin as the Gate sucked her in like a toddler slurping spaghetti.

One second, she was there, and the next, she was gone.

I heard Tabitha’s scream join the discordant harmony of the Gate.

My legs collapsed under me.

I saw the trees on the other side of the Gate. Minutes passed before Tabitha was spat out the other end, though she was no longer recognizable.

She had grown five times in size. Each of her teeth was longer than my forearms. Her eyes glowed red. She was pitchblack, her claws longer, and her shape no longer resembling anything that could be considered a wolf.

She was a monster.

A Durrach.

Did the Gate turn people intodurrach? Did the Huntsman know? Did the Locket pack know?

The beast that was once Tabitha reared back and let out an almighty roar, trundling away from the Gate—just as my legs collapsed and darkness closed in.

He found me in the clearing, my nose inches from the Gate as I slept.

Though unaware of the shift, I’d changed from wolf to human form. The eerie chiming of the Gate made my head pound, and I felt like I’d drunk too much Jack Daniels.

The Huntsman knelt by my side; his goat-like eyes held no emotion. He glanced at the Gate and sighed. The sun had risen. Samhain was over, and I remained in the Aos Si.

“You’re not going to let me go. Are you?” My voice scratched its way out of my throat.

“I’ve been distracted by Samhain, but I promise you have my full attention now, Weaver.” His lip quirked with a smile. “I haven’t forgiven you for striking me. Not yet.”

The Huntsman—Lugh—was my great-grandfather.

He made my skin crawl.

“Will you hurt Kaleb? And the Locket pack? If I say no?” I closed my eyes, shivering against the damp undergrowth. My shoulder was shredded, leaking blood. Cream-colored bone peeked through the globs of yellow face, sinew, and torn skin.

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