Got you now, fucker. Micah swiftly tore out its throat, and as the demon gurgled helplessly, Micah shifted into his half-man, half-wolf form. Then he used his own sharp claws like knives, plunging them into the creature’s chest and ripping out its black heart. The beast died, eyes glazing, surprise still etched on its ugly mug.
He didn’t get to savor his victory. A hard blow took him in the side, and he rolled a few feet. A new demon attacked, and he used the hamstringing method again, with success. Dispatched the enemy. And again, on another.
The Pack was winning the battle, and hopefully they’d find the family—who’d stopped screaming—alive, safe, and barricaded in the basement. Just as he finished taking the heart of another demon beneath him, Rowan screamed from somewhere behind him. “Micah!”
Still in half-form, he turned—“Ungh.” Blinking, breath stolen away, it took him a couple of heartbeats to register the demon towering over him, smirking in triumph.
“Die, wolf.”
The claws of one of the beast’s hands were buried in Micah’s chest. The strange, cold burn of the venom was spreading through his limbs, his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He tried to lift his arm, to swipe his claws at the creature, but couldn’t. The demon laughed and dug the talons deeper.
“Micah! No!”
A loud bang sounded. And the demon fell away in a shower of blood, brain matter, and bone. The claws were torn from Micah’s chest, and he sank to his knees, gasping. Unable to retain his shift, he returned to human form and stared at the blood gushing from the grisly wound to stream down his abdomen.
“Shit,” he wheezed.
The instant he toppled to the floor, hands were on him. The noise of the waning battle faded into the background. Suddenly he was on his back with Zander Cole, the Pack’s Healer, beside him dressed in fatigues and a dark T-shirt.
Tucking his gun into his waist band, Zan placed a hand over the bleeding wound.
“Steady,” he said in a quiet, soothing voice. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Micah’s next breath was strangled in his chest, as though a fist was crushing the life out of him. “Hurry.”
Zan closed his eyes and stilled. Micah was in too much pain to look down and watch what he was doing, but a warm glow began to seep into his chest. Gentle waves lapped at the agony, wearing it away gradually. His breath came easier, and he began to relax. Thank God for the Healer, or he might not have survived the trip back to the compound.
“I want you to stay still, okay?” Zan was frowning slightly, trying not to show his worry.
“Why? I feel a lot better.”
“I’d just rather you take it easy until we get you back and let the doctors examine you.”
Nick crouched at Micah’s side, back in human form, a borrowed coat wrapped around him. “House is secure.
Family is safe. Kalen is wiping the demons from their memories and replacing them with poachers who broke in, looking for money and weapons.”
“Would poachers do that?”
“It was the best he could do in a pinch,” Nick said wryly. “Sheriff Deveraux is here, too. We’re letting them take over the scene.”
Sheriff Jesse Deveraux was a big, mean-tempered asshole. And a good ally to the Pack. He was one of the few humans outside the compound to know about the paranormal world and the Alpha Pack’s role in it. Grumpy or not, he was also an honest man, and a good guy to have on your side.
“So, basically, we were never here,” Micah said.
“You got it.” The commander eyed him, then glanced at Zan. A look passed between him and the Healer before he addressed Micah again. “You going to be okay?”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure that was totally true, but that’s what he was going with. Clearly neither of the men was convinced.
Nick patted his shoulder. “You’ll do as Zan says. Like I told you, a demon’s venom is nothing to fuck with. Zan healed the worst of the wound, but you’re going to feel like shit for a couple of days. Stay put while I send somebody for a stretcher.”
Micah opened his mouth to protest, but a glare from the boss cut it short. “Fine.”
With a sigh, he closed his eyes and drifted, ignoring the activity around him. Jeez, he was tired. Someone covered him with a blanket. Rowan stroked his hair and whispered, “I love you, you jerk,” which made him smile as he murmured the sentiment to his sister in return.
A few minutes later, he heard Nick, Zan, and Rowan talking some distance away and realized they were discussing him. He probably should’ve alerted them to the fact that he was awake.
Nah, screw that. He wanted to know what they were so uptight about that they weren’t saying to his face.
“What is it?” Rowan asked, voice quiet.
Zan answered. “I’m concerned about some anomalies I detected while I was healing your brother.”
“Anomalies? What do you mean? Like tumors or something?” Alarm tinged her questions.
“Not like a disease, but more of a sense that something isn’t right inside his body. The healing was more difficult than it should’ve been and—”