Lili St. Crow - Strange Angels.wps by Crystal & Billy

Author:Crystal & Billy [Crystal & Billy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-10-24T23:49:15.301000+00:00

fence sloped drunkenly back and forth. It looked weirdly familiar. And there on the other

side . . .

I turned in a full circle. Yep, there were the two buildings squinched together, broken

glass staring out into the cold night. I’d seen them from a different angle. I finished the

turn, squinted at the chain-link fence. Let out a disbelieving sigh, my breath louder than

the snow.

Our truck hunched on the other side of the fence. It was buried under a hood of deep

snow, but I’d know the camper shape anywhere. And under the snow it was faded blue,

the blue of a summer sky, the best color in the world.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. The buildings behind me crouched, groaning like they intended

to get up and hobble for a hot bath.

I took another two steps forward, through a knee-deep drift. The wind smacked me, rising

and moaning eerily, loaded with stinging snow-buckshot. My jeans were sodden, clinging

below the knee, and I couldn’t feel my feet. I lurched forward again, tripped over

something buried under the snow, and fell headlong. My palms hit snow, and I hoped

there was nothing sharp under its soft white blanket.

Good one, Dru.I floundered up to my feet, shaking like a dog to get the powdery stuff off

me. Considered cursing, but another bolt of pain slung through my head, this one jolting

down my neck and spreading across my sore, aching back. I let out a half-garbled sound

and hunched, crossing my arms over my belly, cold burning against my cheeks.

I pulled back into my own head with an effort, clenching myself like a fist. My eyes ran

with hot water, and I lurched to my feet, aware of how the light was draining from the

sky.

Get to the truck.It was Dad’s voice again, urgent but calm. Get to the truck NOW. Run,

Dru. Run .

I made it up and staggered. My feet were so cold I didn’t think I could run, but I gave it a

go just as a low, hissing growl sounded behind me and something snapped like a flag in a

high breeze. Snow flung itself up and the wind screeched. I leaped like a fish with a hook

through its mouth.

“ Down!” someone yelled, and habit grabbed me by the scruff. You don’t hesitate when

someone yells like that.

I hit the snow again, full-length, and heard something roar.

Goddamn, that sounds like a shotgun.I floundered, rolled over on my back, and the world

turned to clear syrup again, snowflakes hanging suspended, the sky flushed with one last

long red smear of dying sunlight, and the werwulf hanging in the air over me caught in

mid-snarl, a long string of saliva flying back to splat on the lobe of one high-peaked, hairy

ear. Its eyes were like coals, and the white streak up the side of its head was familiar—I

had time to see almost every hair etched on its pelt, as well as the ruins of a shredded pair

of canvas pants clasping its narrow hips. Its legs bent back the wrong way, fully extended

for the leap. Its long, lean face was screwed up in a snarl of pure hatred.

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