Wild Things: A Chicagolands Vampire Novel (Chicagoland Vampires) by Chloe Neill Page A
Authors: Chloe Neill
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swatting my bottom in horror, and tried to climb to my feet but found the ground swayed a little. I made it to my knees, nearly retching from the sudden vertigo.
The harpy slammed to the ground beside me, her black eyes open, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, and a bloody wound across her neck, pale sinew and bone peeking through skin.
The sight didn’t help my dizziness, and I sat firmly on the ground again. I looked up to find Ethan standing over her, hands and dagger bloodied, eyes green and fierce. There were streaks of blood and scratches across his face, and worse across his shirt.
He crouched in front of me, looked over my face. “You’re all right, Sentinel?”
I blinked. “I’ll be fine. She got my cheek.”
“The bruise is already showing,” he said, offering a hand and helping me to my feet. “You’ll heal.”
“That’s what they say. But it doesn’t make the punch feel any better.”
A voice rose behind us. “Little help here!”
We glanced across the meadow, found Catcher and Mallory twenty feet away, lobbing blue orbs of light at a pair of harpies who easily avoided them, swiping at their heads as they bobbed overhead. The sorcerers looked tired; their font of magic wasn’t endless, but required recharging. They both looked wan and sweaty, like they’d need the recharging soon.
“I’ll help,” Ethan said. “Stay here until you’re balanced again.”
I’d have argued if I could have, but he was already on his way to Mallory and Catcher.
Before I could join him, a wolf was beside me, nudging my leg. I glanced down. It was Gabriel, his wolf form enormous, his haunches nearly reaching my waist. And although he was undeniably animal—from thick fur to the tang of musk—there was something very human in his eyes.
Fear.
He nudged my hand again. Odd, because it wasn’t like Gabriel to turn his back on a fight. And why would he be afraid?
The thought struck me with cold dread. Tanya, also a wolf, could have shifted. But Connor was only an infant; I wasn’t entirely sure if infants could shift. And in any case, she’d have to carry him away.
“Tanya and Connor,” I said, and he yipped in agreement.
We ducked to avoid the tips of claws and wings.
“I’ll get them out of here and into the woods,” I promised. “Keep Ethan out of trouble.”
I’m going to find Tanya and Connor,
I warned Ethan, who’d already reached Mallory and Catcher and was joining his dagger to their efforts.
Please keep yourself safe.
I . . . intend . . . to,
he haltingly responded, between his own evasive maneuvers.
I ducked and ran to the highest point in the meadow, a spot near the tree line on what I guessed was the southern side of the field, in order to scan the battlefield. Most of the shifters had actually shifted, but there were still some who I guessed found it easier to fight this particular enemy in human form. Tents were crumpled to the ground and fluttering wings obscured the view. If I was going to find them, I was going to have to run for it.
It was like an obstacle course, but instead of paintballs, giant naked women dropped from the sky with daggerlike claws. That wasn’t nearly as romantic as it sounded. I darted from one tent to the next, looking for any sign of the queen of the Pack and the heir to the throne. But I found nothing.
I made it to a tree stump, dropped beside it as I scanned the part of the field closest to me. I saw nothing but fighting, harpies apparently intent on wiping out the Pack in one fell swoop. And I’d traversed only a third of the meadow.
“This isn’t working,” I murmured, cupping my hands around my mouth and screaming into the night, “Tanya!”
I strained to hear a response but heard only the yips of injured shifters and the squeals of pissed-off harpies.
“Tanya!” I tried again. And this time, I heard an answering call.
“Merit!”
The cry was too low to be close, but it was enough to signal her
The harpy slammed to the ground beside me, her black eyes open, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, and a bloody wound across her neck, pale sinew and bone peeking through skin.
The sight didn’t help my dizziness, and I sat firmly on the ground again. I looked up to find Ethan standing over her, hands and dagger bloodied, eyes green and fierce. There were streaks of blood and scratches across his face, and worse across his shirt.
He crouched in front of me, looked over my face. “You’re all right, Sentinel?”
I blinked. “I’ll be fine. She got my cheek.”
“The bruise is already showing,” he said, offering a hand and helping me to my feet. “You’ll heal.”
“That’s what they say. But it doesn’t make the punch feel any better.”
A voice rose behind us. “Little help here!”
We glanced across the meadow, found Catcher and Mallory twenty feet away, lobbing blue orbs of light at a pair of harpies who easily avoided them, swiping at their heads as they bobbed overhead. The sorcerers looked tired; their font of magic wasn’t endless, but required recharging. They both looked wan and sweaty, like they’d need the recharging soon.
“I’ll help,” Ethan said. “Stay here until you’re balanced again.”
I’d have argued if I could have, but he was already on his way to Mallory and Catcher.
Before I could join him, a wolf was beside me, nudging my leg. I glanced down. It was Gabriel, his wolf form enormous, his haunches nearly reaching my waist. And although he was undeniably animal—from thick fur to the tang of musk—there was something very human in his eyes.
Fear.
He nudged my hand again. Odd, because it wasn’t like Gabriel to turn his back on a fight. And why would he be afraid?
The thought struck me with cold dread. Tanya, also a wolf, could have shifted. But Connor was only an infant; I wasn’t entirely sure if infants could shift. And in any case, she’d have to carry him away.
“Tanya and Connor,” I said, and he yipped in agreement.
We ducked to avoid the tips of claws and wings.
“I’ll get them out of here and into the woods,” I promised. “Keep Ethan out of trouble.”
I’m going to find Tanya and Connor,
I warned Ethan, who’d already reached Mallory and Catcher and was joining his dagger to their efforts.
Please keep yourself safe.
I . . . intend . . . to,
he haltingly responded, between his own evasive maneuvers.
I ducked and ran to the highest point in the meadow, a spot near the tree line on what I guessed was the southern side of the field, in order to scan the battlefield. Most of the shifters had actually shifted, but there were still some who I guessed found it easier to fight this particular enemy in human form. Tents were crumpled to the ground and fluttering wings obscured the view. If I was going to find them, I was going to have to run for it.
It was like an obstacle course, but instead of paintballs, giant naked women dropped from the sky with daggerlike claws. That wasn’t nearly as romantic as it sounded. I darted from one tent to the next, looking for any sign of the queen of the Pack and the heir to the throne. But I found nothing.
I made it to a tree stump, dropped beside it as I scanned the part of the field closest to me. I saw nothing but fighting, harpies apparently intent on wiping out the Pack in one fell swoop. And I’d traversed only a third of the meadow.
“This isn’t working,” I murmured, cupping my hands around my mouth and screaming into the night, “Tanya!”
I strained to hear a response but heard only the yips of injured shifters and the squeals of pissed-off harpies.
“Tanya!” I tried again. And this time, I heard an answering call.
“Merit!”
The cry was too low to be close, but it was enough to signal her
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