the slide kicked the spent shell out to fly over my shoulder and dance on the linoleum floor. Another shell slipped into its place like a familiar lover.
“Stay where you are or the next one will blow your skull apart.” I took a step closer to him. “Where is Kaylee? Answer the question or I won’t wait for you to move.”
“You are not a cop.” He said it as a statement.
Most people, even men his size, get nervous when a gun is pointed at them, especially a shotgun. Most people shit their pants. He was sitting calmly in the fifties-style kitchen and talking to me as if I were an acquaintance.
My shoulders grew tight. This was a dangerous man. There was something more than his size that made the hair stick up on my arms. My finger tightened, taking the slack out of the trigger, one twitch away from shooting him in the face.
“What I am is the man who is about one second from blasting a cap in your ass if you don’t tell me where Kaylee is.”
He sighed. “Do you know how easy it is to get a little girl to come with you? The classics still work, even in this age of heightened awareness.” His smile was wide, making the tiny piece of potato tumble from his beard and onto his shirt. “‘Little girl, do you want some candy?’” He chuckled and shook his head. “For instance, sweet little Kaylee just wanted to help me find my lost puppy.”
My stomach churned in disgust. I turned, squeezing the trigger again. The shotgun bucked and roared, blasting into the stove. The oven door fell off and heat washed into the room. I racked the slide and pointed the barrel back to his head, fighting to keep from squeezing the trigger.
My voice was a snarl. “No more warning shots. Tell me where she is!”
“Sweet, delicious Kaylee is gone. I just finished her off, as a matter of fact.” His hand twitched, knocking the wad of fabric he had used to wipe his mouth off the table. It tumbled slowly to the floor, billowing out.
It was a tiny sundress made of pink paisley fabric.
Revulsion slammed into the back of my throat, bile churning in my mouth. I roared out, squeezing the trigger. The shotgun bucked, spitting a load of silver shot across the room.
The pellets smashed into the small table, absorbed by the thick wood.
Faster than sight, the big man had snatched the table, putting it in front of him as a shield. Before I could rack the slide, he raised it up and threw it across the room at me. I ducked to get out of its path, twisting away. The heavy wood struck across my shoulder. Numbness flashed down my arm like lightning. The shotgun tore out of my hands, spinning through the air and clattering inside the open oven. It rattled around and stopped, hung up on the wire oven racks.
I was knocked to the ground. My face slammed into the slick linoleum and there was a hot gush as my eyebrow split open from the impact. White sparks flew across my vision. I threw my weight to the side, scrambling. I wound up with my back against the dishwasher. My right hand yanked the Desert Eagle from its holster and my left hand wiped blood from my eye. I swept the room with the gun, the tactical laser burning trails through the air.
The man was standing in the center of the room.
Massive shoulders hunched over, veins standing like cables on his arms. The polo shirt ripped at the seams as he screamed to the sky. His muscles were swelling, twitching, and jerking as they grew. I watched his arms and legs twist. Joints distended as his legs became thicker. The supernatural in the air was like soup. Heat washed over me, my skin felt like it was on fire. The desire to plunge in salty, icy water consumed me.
The man roared as his ribs broke with a snap and a jerk, chest expanding into a barrel. The bones in his neck grew and his skull re-formed itself. His face pulled into a snout, big and square. Head thrown back, I could see his teeth grow. All four incisors split gums, shooting out into four-inch-long enameled daggers. A thick tongue
“Stay where you are or the next one will blow your skull apart.” I took a step closer to him. “Where is Kaylee? Answer the question or I won’t wait for you to move.”
“You are not a cop.” He said it as a statement.
Most people, even men his size, get nervous when a gun is pointed at them, especially a shotgun. Most people shit their pants. He was sitting calmly in the fifties-style kitchen and talking to me as if I were an acquaintance.
My shoulders grew tight. This was a dangerous man. There was something more than his size that made the hair stick up on my arms. My finger tightened, taking the slack out of the trigger, one twitch away from shooting him in the face.
“What I am is the man who is about one second from blasting a cap in your ass if you don’t tell me where Kaylee is.”
He sighed. “Do you know how easy it is to get a little girl to come with you? The classics still work, even in this age of heightened awareness.” His smile was wide, making the tiny piece of potato tumble from his beard and onto his shirt. “‘Little girl, do you want some candy?’” He chuckled and shook his head. “For instance, sweet little Kaylee just wanted to help me find my lost puppy.”
My stomach churned in disgust. I turned, squeezing the trigger again. The shotgun bucked and roared, blasting into the stove. The oven door fell off and heat washed into the room. I racked the slide and pointed the barrel back to his head, fighting to keep from squeezing the trigger.
My voice was a snarl. “No more warning shots. Tell me where she is!”
“Sweet, delicious Kaylee is gone. I just finished her off, as a matter of fact.” His hand twitched, knocking the wad of fabric he had used to wipe his mouth off the table. It tumbled slowly to the floor, billowing out.
It was a tiny sundress made of pink paisley fabric.
Revulsion slammed into the back of my throat, bile churning in my mouth. I roared out, squeezing the trigger. The shotgun bucked, spitting a load of silver shot across the room.
The pellets smashed into the small table, absorbed by the thick wood.
Faster than sight, the big man had snatched the table, putting it in front of him as a shield. Before I could rack the slide, he raised it up and threw it across the room at me. I ducked to get out of its path, twisting away. The heavy wood struck across my shoulder. Numbness flashed down my arm like lightning. The shotgun tore out of my hands, spinning through the air and clattering inside the open oven. It rattled around and stopped, hung up on the wire oven racks.
I was knocked to the ground. My face slammed into the slick linoleum and there was a hot gush as my eyebrow split open from the impact. White sparks flew across my vision. I threw my weight to the side, scrambling. I wound up with my back against the dishwasher. My right hand yanked the Desert Eagle from its holster and my left hand wiped blood from my eye. I swept the room with the gun, the tactical laser burning trails through the air.
The man was standing in the center of the room.
Massive shoulders hunched over, veins standing like cables on his arms. The polo shirt ripped at the seams as he screamed to the sky. His muscles were swelling, twitching, and jerking as they grew. I watched his arms and legs twist. Joints distended as his legs became thicker. The supernatural in the air was like soup. Heat washed over me, my skin felt like it was on fire. The desire to plunge in salty, icy water consumed me.
The man roared as his ribs broke with a snap and a jerk, chest expanding into a barrel. The bones in his neck grew and his skull re-formed itself. His face pulled into a snout, big and square. Head thrown back, I could see his teeth grow. All four incisors split gums, shooting out into four-inch-long enameled daggers. A thick tongue
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