Page 17 of Curse of the Wolf
A gunshot thundered in the driveway out front.
Though worried about Duncan, I focused on my target as the big, bearded man lunged to his feet and threw a punch at me. Even though I lacked a lot of fighting experience beyond the six swordsmanship lessons, I had greater speed than a normal human and dodged the blow without trouble. I jumped in and gripped the man’s shoulders. Before he could swing at me again, I drove my knee into his crotch.
Roaring, he tried to headbutt me. I released him, leaped back, and slammed the heel of my palm into his face. The cartilage of his nose crunched, and that dazed him. Eyeswatering, the next punch he threw would have gone wild even if I hadn’t dodged it. Unlike Radomir’s brutes, this guy wasn’t enhanced in any way, so no magic aided him.
I pushed him up against the fence.
“Tell me where my sword is, or I’ll turn wolf and finish you off,” I growled, certain that he knew by now that I had the power to do that.
“Don’t know nothing about that.” Through watering eyes, he glanced toward the back of the house.
Did he have more allies inside? A thump and a bang came from the front. I hoped that meant Duncan was dealing with the crazy driver—and anyone else who wanted to help this guy escape.
“Let go of me, bitch,” the guy snarled, trying to heave me away.
I sank in, keeping him pinned. “Where are they keeping the sword? And who has it? Did they sell it, or do they still have it?”
Too bad I didn’t sense any magic in the house. It would have been nice if this had led me to the invaluable sword, but I didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary in the area.
My opponent jerked his face forward, again trying to headbutt me. I’d been ready for it and pulled back enough to avoid the contact, but he managed to get his hands on me and heft me into the air. Shit. I was strong, but I wasn’t heavy.
I kicked at him. This time, he guarded his balls. He whirled and pinnedmeagainst the fence. I clipped him on the jaw with a punch, but I lacked leverage in this position, and the blow didn’t hurt him much. He pulled me toward him, then slammed me against the fence, and my breath whooshed out.
My blood heated, magic surging through my limbs, my senses pricking with power. Since I was in trouble, I didn’t try to tamp down the wolf. I wouldn’t be able to question the man in that form, but the questioning wasn’t going well anyway.
I squirmed, shoving at him, wanting to get away before changing since I would be vulnerable for the seconds that the transformation took. My phone flew out of my pocket.
My foe leaned in, trying to use his body to crush me to the fence. I hadn’t yet changed, but I snarled and bit him on the ear. He screamed and let me go.
When I dropped, I landed on all fours. My body morphed, my clothes disappearing, and my hands and feet became paws. The scents of the grassy lawn and my sweating opponent flooded my nostrils, and the world sharpened around me, my foe growing less daunting. I crouched, muscles coiling.
Eyes wide, the human swore and backed up.
“Fendar, get out here!” he yelled.
A crash came from inside the house, and I paused. Was that my werewolf ally? I sensed him not far from here.
The thug in front of me grabbed a shovel and hefted it. I charged at him.
He swung the rusty blade at my head, but I dodged and snapped. With my jaws, I caught the wooden handle, crunched it in half, and tore the remains from his grip. Leaping in close, I snapped at my foe through his clothing, fangs sinking into the flesh of his hip.
The man cried out as he spun away. He attempted to run into the house, but I surged after him and sprang. I landed on his back and bore him to the ground.
Since the back of his neck was exposed, I could have killed him. But I vaguely remembered that in my other form I had wanted answers from him. He needed to remain alive. But when I’d questioned him, he hadn’t provided the information I sought. If I wounded him badly enough would he be more accommodating?
Before I could find out, the roar of a vehicle engine came from the street out front. Something on the far side of the house shattered. A window?
“Look out!” a man shouted.
That was my ally, Duncan, still in his human form.
In the backyard, I paused, but I didn’t know what his warning implied I should do. Underneath my paws, the man tried to squirm away. I lowered my jaws to the back of his neck, stilling him with sharp teeth on his flesh and my hot wolf breath.
He squawked in alarm.
“We didn’t want to take it, okay?” he blurted. “We just want you to leave our turf alone. We don’t care about your stuff. But the old guy told us to take it.”
As a wolf, I struggled to grasp the significance of the words. The grunt I made might have had a querying tone, and the man must have interpreted it as a prompt for more information.
