Phoenix Contract: Part Two (Fallen Angel Watchers) by Melissa Thomas Page A

who’d become their unwitting meal. Already, his throat and chest cavity had been ripped open and chunks of rib meat torn out to serve as a meal to the fiends.
    Matthew took a hesitant step backward, deciding that an orderly retreat was warranted. Unfortunately, his shin caught a fragment of broken board, and he stumbled. His entire body flailed for balance. Cursing, Matthew kicked the piece of wood away, causing a great clattering commotion. He cringed, but the damage had already been done.
    Both of the creatures reacted. Heads jerking up to glare in his direction, their eyes—a mix of gold and green, the cornea the color of tarnished copper, and the sclera a lighter yellow—seethed with malevolence.
    Matthew’s mind reeled as he strove to match their identifying characteristics against the teachings of his arcane education. What were they? Demons? No. Too base and plebeian to be of the Fallen whose power was said to be immense. Vampires? While vampires dined in dark alleys and lived in the night’s shadows, they did not partake of the flesh, only blood.
    What then? Zombies?
    A thunderous roar interrupted his frantic musing as the larger beast sprang forward from its crouched position. It landed in an apish stance, two yards from Matthew. Its thin, bloodless lips peeled back in another threatening snarl, and it considered him, looking for weakness.
    The dominant creature’s rumbling growls summoned a chorus of answering calls—angry hisses and gnashing teeth. The priest’s head jerked toward the far end of the alley. His eyes widened with fearful horror as one, then three, then a half-dozen more of the nightmarish creatures emerged. They appeared out of the shadows, staring at him with hateful, hungry eyes.
    Another growl from the dominant beast warned the priest that he shouldn’t have averted his gaze. Matthew instinctively leapt backward, crying out as he did, but a heavy shape struck him and knocked him to the ground. Mouth open to bite, the creature’s deformed visage descended toward his face.
    The startled priest reflexively threw up his arms for protection and managed to block the attack. Snapping loudly just inches from his face, its teeth closed on air instead of flesh. The ghoul snarled and lunged again, struggling to close its massive jaws around Matthew’s face while fetid breath stinking of carrion and decay huffed up his nose.
    Fear hammered Matthew’s heart as he struggled to keep the beast away, barely managing. “Dear God, help me,” he prayed, fighting with animalistic desperation. He didn’t want to be eaten alive!
    The beast bore down. Grabbing hold of his forearms, it used its superior weight to gain leverage. Matthew’s arms weakened, and he redoubled his efforts to hold it off, expending precious energy in panicked thrashing. Inevitably, his strength gave way, and the ghoul lunged again for his face.
    In desperation, Matthew thrust his arm forward and shoved his hand into the ghoul’s mouth. Its heavy jaws closed on the outer side of his right hand and sank deep into his flesh. As the ghoul’s desiccated yellow eyes glared at him, it chomped down repeatedly on the priest’s hand as if it intended to chew its way through. Drops of his own blood splattered Matthew’s face, and his arm started to collapse.
    A strong downdraft of air passed over them, but the priest barely felt it rush over his face. Unsurprising, since he had more pressing concerns at that moment. The definitive and distinct sound of steel blades cut the air, but Matthew failed to put a name to the noise.
    A pair of swords crossed the creature’s neck with the singular sound of steel on steel. The twin blades sliced cleanly through the sinew and bone, and the very tip of one cut a long, thin scratch upon Matthew’s wrist.
    “Dear God.” The priest gasped, and the fiend’s head dropped onto Matthew’s face, the wide-open mouth coming into contact with his cheek. Matthew shouted at the top of his lungs. Grabbing