Page 6 of Wolf Cursed
Except this was real life.
What the hell had happened to my father? And how was I going to fix him?
“Dad?” I called tentatively.
The thing swung its red-eyed gazed toward me.
Fear sent me backing away. My father—the demon—didn’t move.
That was a good sign.
Recognition flared in his glowing eyes. “Ash,” he said, the sound of his voice distorted.
Still, it was him. And he recognized me.
Maybe he wasn’t going to hurt me after all.
I took a step toward him.
A gunshot rang out, loud and sharp enough to make me jump.
I sucked in a breath and watched as my father, or the monster that had taken him over, flew backward into the wall. He hit hard enough to leave a hole the size of his broken body before sliding to the floor. Blood poured from a hole in his chest, and right before my eyes, the demon-form receded, and my father’s body and bones returned to their normal appearance.
He lay limp and still, in a growing puddle of his own blood.
“No!” I rushed forward, forgetting Vorack, forgetting the demon my father had just become. Forgetting it all.
Nothing else mattered except saving him.
“We’ll be back to collect,” Vorack yelled. “One way or another.”
Outside, the engine revved, and Vorack’s car spewed gravel as he hit reverse and drove off like a bat out of hell.
I didn’t even look up to make sure they’d all gone. Instead, I collapsed to my feet beside my father and pressed my palms to the gunshot wound on his chest. Already, his shirt was drenched in blood. This wasn’t good. I had to call for an ambulance.
“Dad,” I called, half-sobbing. “Dad, please hang on.”
My voice broke, and I started to climb to my feet, to find the phone. My father’s hand shot out and gripped mine, holding me in place. His eyes flew open, and he looked up at me, his gaze intent and not at all like that of a dying, drunk man.
It was the clearest I’d seen him in months.
“Ash, listen to me. Take the money in the freezer,” he said, his voice strained. “Take it and the car and go. Now, tonight. Don’t wait for Vorack to come back.”
“Not until you get to the hospital,” I said.
“A hospital can’t help me,” he said, wincing and then gritting his teeth.
Every time he spoke, the blood seemed to spill faster.
“Dad, please,” I said.
“Ash, listen to me. Go to Ridley Falls. Find Oscar, my brother. He’ll help keep you safe. Your mother—”
He broke off, squeezing his eyes shut, and his head lolled to the side.
“Dad,” I sobbed, still pressing my hands to his wound, for all the good it did.
My dad took a ragged breath and looked at me again. I could see the pain reflected in his eyes. This was costing him.
