Wild Things: A Chicagolands Vampire Novel (Chicagoland Vampires) by Chloe Neill Page B
Authors: Chloe Neill
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direction. I ran to the next obstacle, then the next, and finally found her crouched on the ground beside the totem, which now lay on its side in the middle of the clearing, sheltering her son with her body.
There was no fear in the magic that swirled around her, just a sense of determination. She was a mother, and she would protect her son, regardless the cost.
I ran toward her, put the dagger back in my boot, and extended a hand. “Long time no see.”
She smiled just a little. “I don’t think this is quite the party Gabriel had in mind.”
“I would hope not,” I said, “or he’s a horrible planner. Are you okay?”
“I think I twisted my ankle. Tripped over something in the field.”
I nodded. “I’ll help you get to the woods. The harpies can’t fly through the trees.”
Tanya nestled Connor in the crook of one arm, nodded, and grabbed my hand with her free one to pull herself upright. She bobbled a bit on her left foot but stayed upright.
My arm around her back, I scanned the sky, gauged the distance between the shelter and the trees, and prepared to run. If I could just wait for them to begin the rotation away from the woods, we’d have a few seconds to make a run for it.
A metallic screech rang out above us. We crouched as a harpy flew only a foot above our heads, sending Connor into a fit of tears.
“Ready,” I told her, trying to drown out the noise and the fire and the scent of blood and the snow of molted black feathers that fell from the sky.
The harpy banked and turned and gave us our chance.
“Run!” I yelled, and we took off at our stumbling pace.
She made it ten awkward yards before stumbling forward, nearly pulling me down with her. But I managed to stay on my feet and keep an iron grip on her waist. I kept her upright and she found her balance again, but her ankle wobbled beneath her. Shifting into her wolf form would allow her to heal, but we didn’t have time for that.
The piercing scream rose behind us, and I risked a glance over our shoulders. The harpy had seen us, and she’d turned our way.
Tanya tried to release my grip. “Take Connor. Run for the woods. Keep him safe.”
A nervous laugh bubbled up. “Are you kidding me? I’m not going to leave you here for the world’s angriest chickens. We do this together.” I pulled her free arm around my shoulder and put my arm back around her waist, tilting my body to take more of the weight off her ankle. Together, the sound of
thwush
ing wings behind us growing louder with each step we took, we hobbled to the tree line.
The hair rose on the back of my neck.
Gods, but this is going to be close.
“Faster!” I said, sucking in oxygen as we raced the last twenty yards, then ten, pulling her toward the trees with all the strength I could muster.
The harpy dipped, and time seemed to slow. Visions passed before my eyes, of friendships, of my nieces and nephews, of Ethan, and of the green-eyed child Gabriel had once hinted was in my future. Green eyes I wouldn’t get a chance to see if we didn’t make it.
I pushed harder, calling up every spare ounce of effort I could find, that same determination that had driven me through all-nighters in grad school and endless hours of ballet practice. It didn’t feel good, but that was irrelevant.
You don’t stop until the job is done,
my father was fond of saying.
Tanya wasn’t yet safe; my job wasn’t done.
We reached the stand of winter-bare trees, and the harpy banked, wings swatting the trees on the edge of the wood, black feathers ripped out by branches floating to the ground.
I helped Tanya sit down on a fallen tree, Connor now crying fitfully. Other shifters who’d taken shelter in the woods turned back into their human forms and looked out on the battle with horror.
I knelt down in front of Tanya, who tried to calm her son.
“What’s this about?” I asked, when her gaze met mine.
She shook her head, her eyes still wide with shock. “I don’t know. I don’t
There was no fear in the magic that swirled around her, just a sense of determination. She was a mother, and she would protect her son, regardless the cost.
I ran toward her, put the dagger back in my boot, and extended a hand. “Long time no see.”
She smiled just a little. “I don’t think this is quite the party Gabriel had in mind.”
“I would hope not,” I said, “or he’s a horrible planner. Are you okay?”
“I think I twisted my ankle. Tripped over something in the field.”
I nodded. “I’ll help you get to the woods. The harpies can’t fly through the trees.”
Tanya nestled Connor in the crook of one arm, nodded, and grabbed my hand with her free one to pull herself upright. She bobbled a bit on her left foot but stayed upright.
My arm around her back, I scanned the sky, gauged the distance between the shelter and the trees, and prepared to run. If I could just wait for them to begin the rotation away from the woods, we’d have a few seconds to make a run for it.
A metallic screech rang out above us. We crouched as a harpy flew only a foot above our heads, sending Connor into a fit of tears.
“Ready,” I told her, trying to drown out the noise and the fire and the scent of blood and the snow of molted black feathers that fell from the sky.
The harpy banked and turned and gave us our chance.
“Run!” I yelled, and we took off at our stumbling pace.
She made it ten awkward yards before stumbling forward, nearly pulling me down with her. But I managed to stay on my feet and keep an iron grip on her waist. I kept her upright and she found her balance again, but her ankle wobbled beneath her. Shifting into her wolf form would allow her to heal, but we didn’t have time for that.
The piercing scream rose behind us, and I risked a glance over our shoulders. The harpy had seen us, and she’d turned our way.
Tanya tried to release my grip. “Take Connor. Run for the woods. Keep him safe.”
A nervous laugh bubbled up. “Are you kidding me? I’m not going to leave you here for the world’s angriest chickens. We do this together.” I pulled her free arm around my shoulder and put my arm back around her waist, tilting my body to take more of the weight off her ankle. Together, the sound of
thwush
ing wings behind us growing louder with each step we took, we hobbled to the tree line.
The hair rose on the back of my neck.
Gods, but this is going to be close.
“Faster!” I said, sucking in oxygen as we raced the last twenty yards, then ten, pulling her toward the trees with all the strength I could muster.
The harpy dipped, and time seemed to slow. Visions passed before my eyes, of friendships, of my nieces and nephews, of Ethan, and of the green-eyed child Gabriel had once hinted was in my future. Green eyes I wouldn’t get a chance to see if we didn’t make it.
I pushed harder, calling up every spare ounce of effort I could find, that same determination that had driven me through all-nighters in grad school and endless hours of ballet practice. It didn’t feel good, but that was irrelevant.
You don’t stop until the job is done,
my father was fond of saying.
Tanya wasn’t yet safe; my job wasn’t done.
We reached the stand of winter-bare trees, and the harpy banked, wings swatting the trees on the edge of the wood, black feathers ripped out by branches floating to the ground.
I helped Tanya sit down on a fallen tree, Connor now crying fitfully. Other shifters who’d taken shelter in the woods turned back into their human forms and looked out on the battle with horror.
I knelt down in front of Tanya, who tried to calm her son.
“What’s this about?” I asked, when her gaze met mine.
She shook her head, her eyes still wide with shock. “I don’t know. I don’t
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