Page 14 of Gone Hunting

“What’s happening?” I snarl. “What do you see?”

Gemini’s dark eyes gleam in that way they do when he sees through the eyes of his twin. “It has us,” he rasps. He falls forward on all fours, clutching his neck. “It’s coming.”

“Screw this,” Koda rumbles, taking off in sprint.

The twin wolf skyrockets from the thick stand of trees, landing at our feet with his head twisted at an odd angle. Gemini races to him, gathering him in his arms and hoisting his sagging body from the ground.

Koda stands a few feet from the dark forest, cemented in place, his attention on the spot where the yellow mist seeps out in thick tendrils. “What the hell is that?” he growls.

I grind my teeth. “Fall back.”

Koda shakes his head stiffly. “No way.”

“It’s not a request,” I bite out.

Koda backs up, the filthy yellow air that follows him morphing into a gelatinous, suffocating amber.

Celia and Liam gag, choking on the smell. I shove the bile burning its way up my throat, whispering low. “Liam, take point on the right, Koda, the left. Gemini, where’s your twin?”

“Hidden, but unable to fight,” Gemini says. “Something’s wrong with him, Aric. He’s not healing.”

“If he can’t heal, we may not be able to, either,” I say. I don’t mean to be blunt, but they need to know what we’re up against and fight smart. Liam spits on the ground and Koda releases another few swears.

“Gemini, take the rear,” I order, my hackles rising when I sense something drawing closer. “We’ll see to your wolf when we’re done tearing this thing apart. Stay sharp and keep Celia behind you.”

“I’m no weakling,” she insists. “I can help you fight it.”

“This is our battle, not yours,” I tell her.

Her resentment claws at my back. I don’t bother arguing with her. Wechangeinto our beasts, ready to protect. Ready to fight. Ready to kill.

Liam’s amber and brown fur blends into the mist, not that it will help us. Whatever approaches is manipulating this power in its favor. I rack my brain, trying to sort through all the entities I’ve studied to put a finger on what this thing is.

I don’t wonder for long. Like a weary, old man, dragging his legs behind him, the mist parts and the creature emerges.

No. Not just any creature. A skinwalker. One of the few beings that are impossible to kill.

Chapter Four

There are legends of skinwalkers spoken in whispers. My grandfather was one of the fewweresbrave enough to speak of them after sundown. As Guardians of the Earth, we fight dark entities who threaten our world. We’re brave and strong, but neither our prowess nor our beasts can shield us completely from fear.

Skinwalkers are said to beweresdamned to hell for turning on our kind. My grandfather didn’t agree. “Nowerecan commit such atrocities to deserve a fate like that,” Grandad said.

“Then, what is a skinwalker?” I asked.

“A creature born of the evil man has committed upon our earth. It cannot be killed. It doesn’t bleed. It simply ravages anything in its path.” Next to Dad, my grandfather was the toughestwereI ever met, yet he shuddered as he explained. “Dear boy, it’s the one creature I pray you’ll never meet.”

I now understand why.

The first thing I see is the head of a festering stag, its sixteen-point rack appearing too large for his willowy and hunched frame. He stands on hind legs, the hooves stamping into the soil like a being four times his weight, while long-clawed hands drag grooves into the soil.

Chunks of rotting fur drop in wet clumps as he approaches. What flimsy hide remains, covers his shoulders and face in uneven and withered patches. His ribcage is fully exposed, revealing wads of shriveled intestines and mismatched portions of a liver and lungs.

There’s no heart. He doesn’t need one. Malice enshrouds him like a plague, alerting those in his path of their impending doom.

Anyone else who crossed him would be easy prey. Not me. Not my friends.Not Celia. My wolf releases an unearthly growl, converting my fear and shock to rage. I thunder forward, leaping into the air and using the full weight of my body to nail him like a battering ram.

My claws puncture through his ribcage and into what remains of his lungs, the bones cracking like splintering wood beneath my weight. I mistake this for an easy win, but the bones quickly reform around my paws, trapping me, and tightening around me when I try to wrench free.

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