Page 71 of Mongrel
“Arrest them,” she finishes, and my shoulders sag in relief. That’s what we wanted anyway. Perhaps our plan could still work if she just— “No, wait. Archer.” She singles out one man. He listens for her order, fingers twitching around the bow. “Shoot the one who moved in the leg.”
“No!” yells Bowie as the archer fires.
Bowie’s yanking me away, even as the pain lances through my thigh.
I yowl. The pain erupts through my leg and radiates from toes to fingers. My wolf breaks free, forcing a shift. Distressed and terrified, we prepare to fight or flee.
Bowie’s weight drops over me. “Stop, please! We’ll tell you everything!”
I flick my gaze around wildly, seeing Bowie’s hair, the dirty street, the stone towers, and the crazed woman. The whites of her eyes are huge as her blackened pupils bear down on my animal form.
“What the devil in hell have we here?” In her stunned question lies a hint of glee that strikes terror into my soul.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
I’ve shifted right in front of them! I’m tangled and helpless in my clothes. The scent of blood scares me witless. Pain disorients all my senses.
Too much, too much, too much.
“Hold your fire.” I hear the order echoing as if we’re in a tunnel. “Seize them and bring them directly to my chambers.”
Thump, thump, thump.
The sound of dozens of boots pounds the wooden stairs.
Bowie’s hands fist in my ruff. His words in my ears. “Andras. You’re all right. It’s all right. You must drink.”
No!My mind is in chaos, but I know Bowie revealing the power of his blood will only put us in greater danger. I turn my head.
“No,” says Janos. “Beauregard, don’t. He’s a werewolf. He will heal.”
Thump, thump, thump.
“I must.” Bowie sounds frantic, even through the fog in my mind. “He’s bleeding too much.”
“Not yet.” Janos. “Wait and see.”
Their voices fade. Words stop making sense. My leg throbs.
I blink.
Blackness.
* * *
Images flashand vanish in my mind: boots, rope, dirt, knots.
Black.
Bowie’s weight is dragged away.
Black.
Snippets of sound. Too dangerous—Fashion a muzzle—Let me carry him.
Black.
* * *
