Page 50 of Muzzled

Her right arm tightened across his chest as she reached overhead and pulled a leaf off. “Why don’t they plant fruit trees along here?” she asked, holding the leaf between her fingers and running it along his arm until it fell and she stretched up to grab another. “Then I could eat while traveling in luxur—Ouch!”

“What?” he asked, stopping as he craned his neck to see her injury. “Show me.”

She held her bleeding hand in front of his face. “That tree fought back.”

Kneeling, he shrugged her off his back and gingerly held her fingers, examining the depth of the cut. “I have a first aid kit in the car,” he said, using his shirt to clean off the drops of blood on her palm. “It’s not deep enough for stitches, but I’ll take a better look at it at the motel.”

“At the motel, hey?” She grinned. “What makes you think I… Ryan?”

“Hmm?” he muttered, lifting her hand into the dim streetlight to get a better view. When she didn’t respond, he looked up to find her gaze locked on something in the distance. “Micah?”

He followed her stare, jumping to his feet as he caught sight of the shade slinking across the rooftops toward them. It was gaining ground at an impressive speed, closing in on them with targeted precision while it made its leap from the roofs to the trees.

Placing himself between Micah and the shade, he yanked his car keys from his back pocket and pushed them against her uninjured hand. “Go!” he growled, ripping his shirt over his head and cursing as his keys clanked on the pavement. “Micah!”

The shade stopped its momentum as it reached striking distance, its attention locked on her. Refusing to lose track of his target, Ryan inched back until she was in his peripheral. His anger ratcheted when he caught sight of her motionless form, her eyes squeezed shut and hands tangled in her hair as she gripped her head.

“Micah, I’m going to need you to nod if you can hear me,” he said quietly, opening the button of his jeans and examining his options while the shade remained still. She nodded once, her breathing becoming more labored as she withstood whatever assault the shade was carrying out in her mind. “Good. Can you run?” Another nod. “Okay. Turn and go. Now.”

She turned, almost losing her balance, before she stumbled away from him. The shade snapped out of its trance and dropped to the ground, oblivious to Ryan’s shifting while its blackened eyes fixated on Micah’s retreat.

The shade launched at her as Ryan’s hound form took over, his jaws narrowly missing the malformed legs. It locked onto Micah and spun her, placing her between them. Hackles raised, Ryan stalked closer, tracking the shade while it lifted her injured hand up and unceremoniously smeared her blood onto its face. It appeared completely unconcerned with his proximity, its attention wholly focused on Micah’s injury while its other hand splayed across her forehead and held her to its shoulder. She began to struggle against its hold, her eyelids flickering as her body went limp. The shade’s head lolled back with a strangled howl eerily similar to Micah’s voice.

Using one of the larger trees lining the sidewalk, Ryan propelled himself toward it, using the thick trunk to vault behind the shade. His claws sliced cleanly across its back and drew a stream of foul-smelling smoke from the wounds. He locked his jaws on its neck and the shade reared up, its grip on Micah failing as it attempted to dislodge the teeth puncturing its throat. With a final shake, Ryan released the shade and dove forward, sliding on his belly across the pavement a split second before Micah collapsed on top of him. The shade stumbled and dropped to all fours, tearing off into the dark alley and out of sight as Micah scrambled to her feet in a frenzied panic.

“Go!” she gasped, her hands on her knees as she struggled to control her breathing. “Kill it!”

Wedging his muzzle under her arms, he scanned her over for more injuries, noting the scrapes along her elbows and shoulders from his clumsy attempt to keep her from the worst of her fall.

Using his back as support, she slowly straightened and looked in the direction the shade had loped off. She shut her eyes tight for a moment before she turned away and began to limp toward the car, scooping his abandoned clothes up. “It’s not after me,” she muttered quietly, picking his car keys up and closing them in her fist. “It’s protecting me. From you.”

*

Mike tightened thedrawstrings of Ryan’s shorts across her hips and squeezed the last of the water from her hair before joining him in the motel room. He was still exactly as he was when she’d left him to shower, sitting on his bed with his elbows on his knees and staring at the carpet. Tossing her damp towel into the corner of the room, she crawled onto the other bed, smiling when he finally tore his eyes off the floor to glare at the towel.

“Drives you nuts, doesn’t it?” she asked, plumping up the pillows and burying under the blanket for warmth.

He glanced up at her before he resumed his study of the carpet fibers. “Bo is really bad about that,” he muttered. “Clothes. Towels. Dishes. Sage has her work cut out for her if she tries to break him of that.” Exhaling loudly, he ran his hands through his hair and sat up straight. “Okay, show me the hand again.”

She extended her arm, waiting patiently while he examined the slice across her palm. “It thought you did it.” When he let go immediately and walked into the bathroom, she leaned back and adjusted her blanket. “Ryan?”

“I’m just grabbing some antiseptic and a bandage,” he called out, returning with a small black bag and sitting beside her. “How do you know?”

Watching as he folded a small towel and set it on his knee, she lay her hand on it and braced for the sting of the antiseptic. “It showed me. He showed me.”

“This may hurt a bit,” he warned, pouring the cool liquid over her hand and steadying her wrist when she flinched. “Sorry.” Dabbing her hand dry and carefully avoiding the slash on her palm, he ripped open a square bandage. “Showed you how?”

She closed her eyes to bring back the images she’d been bombarded with, snapping them open again when the visions came at her too fast. “I can’t…there was so much. It felt like my head was overloading, like it was going to explode. But there was an emotion to it, a fear attached. Like it was scared you’d hurt me.”

His jaw twitched and he tore a strip of white tape off the roll. “The shade is tiptoeing a little close to Eidolon territory,” he snarled, wrapping her hand gently despite the anger in his voice. “Experienced Eidolons are capable of mimicry and can draw images from their victims’ heads to become doppelgangers. They feed off fear, warping and playing off memories until the person loses the ability to distinguish fact from fiction.” Examining his handiwork, he packed the bag up. “If that thing has been given Eidolon abilities—”

“But those aren’t my memories or thoughts,” she mused, stretching her fingers and watching as he got up and started pacing the room. “Who makes Eidolons?”

He peered out the curtains, scanning the dark lot. “Higher-level deities. An inexperienced Eidolon might have difficulties taking and reading thoughts. It may have been attempting to get into your head but was unable to control the flow.”

She shuddered and wrapped the blanket tighter around herself as he walked over to the thermostat and turned it up. “It’s scared of you. Why didn’t you go after it?”

“No point.” He lay back on his bed and tossed an arm over his eyes. “Without the others, the best I can do is a little exterior damage. Only Cerberus can descend back into the underworld with it, so unless I had access to a shade-proof cage, all chasing it down would have done is leave you exposed.” He lifted his elbow enough to look at her. “Get some rest. We can deal with everything tomorrow. And wake me if you need anything. And I mean anything.”

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