Page 14 of Hiding Nessie
A low growl answered him.
Cam went rigid, hairs standing on end along his arms and neck. The sudden thud of panic ignited the fire in his core. It flooded his nervous system, a loaded gun balanced on a hairpin trigger.
He breathed hard through his nose and tried to pinpoint the source of the noise. Aside from the glow of magical residue highlighting leaves and broken branches on the ground, his eyes struggled to pick out any other details in the pitch black. He stared ahead into solid darkness, willing his eyes to separate one shadow from another.
A low-hanging bough swayed… then detached from its tree. The dark shape became a wolfish head. Narrow, orange eyes glinted in the scant starlight.
With a voice like a bag of gravel, it spoke. ‘Walker.’
Cam’s heart thumped madly. The beast talked. It knew his name.
With a rush of air past his face something whistled through the dark and made contact with a fleshythunkwithin the trees. The werewolf roared, a pained howl that spiralled into the sky.
‘Move,kid!’
Bryce’s voice.
Shitting hell!
Cam jumped out of his skin as Bryce thundered past him, crossbow in hand. Goddamn, that wasjustlike him—shoot first, ask questions later. The wards surrounding him made him an easy target to track, glowing pearlescent pink and purple as he charged toward his prey.
‘Wait—!’ Cam tried to shout, but before he’d completed the syllable the werewolf pounced.
It tackled Bryce to the ground, snarling and thrashing its claws. Bryce rolled with the impact, holding his crossbow as a shield between them. Their struggle trailed a dark splatter of blood that stood out against the iridescent trace magic painting the snow.
Cam fell to his knees, clutching his Scorched arm. The fire screamed at him, railing against being contained.Fight!it demanded over and over, like an alarm bell sounding for self-preservation.
The claws slashed at Bryce’s face. The werewolf was bigger than him, more powerful. Its jaws snapped toward his jugular, just barely held off by the crossbow.
Cam wrenched himself into action. He barrelled forward, driving one shoulder into the beast’s side. He collided with a wall of wiry muscle, knocking the werewolf off Bryce and onto its back. Cam fell with it, reaching out ready to grapple. He sprawled against the creature’s torso, dimly observing a smell of wood-smoke and the feel of fabric—the thing wore clothes?—before a massive, sinewy hand closed around his throat.
Cam choked, feeling the bite of claws digging into his flesh. The thing would crush his windpipe—if it didn’t rip it out first. The beast stood, dragging Cam up with it, growling and snarling like a rabid animal. Cam’s feet left the ground, dangling mid-air from the werewolf’s crushing chokehold.
He scrabbled at its furry arm, raked his nails until they drew blood. The monster only growled and squeezed harder. His lungs were going to burst.
Fight,the fire hissed with the sound of sizzling embers under Cam’s skin.
He gave in, gave permission. Flames erupted from his Scorched arm and swallowed the werewolf’s.
It dropped him with a howl. Cam gasped fitfully, his vision dancing in the sudden flare of light from the flames licking over the werewolf’s fur. It had dropped to the floor, madly slapping at the fire, trying to smother its burning arm against the ground. It rolled to a drift of snow, finally extinguishing the flames. When it looked up, Cam saw raw fury in its eyes.
Cam couldn’t think. His blood was still boiling, the fire still at risk of tipping over. The werewolf dragged itself toward him.
‘Don’t—’ he tried to say, but the flash of fangs in the beast’s open jaws sent a spasm of adrenaline straight to his primeval hindbrain. Cam screamed and threw his hand against the earth as another spout of fire surged from his core. It fanned out from him in an arc, melting snow and turning frozen leaf mulch to crisp embers.
The pain was so intense. He was burning from the inside out: he was sure of it. Blood vaporising in his veins and organs charring to cinders. The pounding in his head would be the last thing he heard, the dreadful thud of death’s footsteps approaching.
No, not inside his head.
Blearily, Cam opened his eyes. His vision was clouded by flames and smoke. But the pounding noise was accompanied by a frantic, rhythmic slithering sound and the cracking of branches. And, beyond that, the keening wail of a prehistoric monster looming out of the dark.
He heard Bryce’s brief exclamation, ‘What the f—!’ before he was swept violently to one side by a giant flipper. And then Lachlan’s reptilian head dipped into view, swimming in and out of focus before Cam’s eyes.
Cam opened his mouth, tried to speak above the sound of spitting flames. ‘I… I…’
Lachlan ducked behind Cam’s back and grabbed hold of his coat with his teeth. Then Cam was in motion, dragged swiftly out of the fire and across snow until he hit ice and slush and finally cold, cold water.
The blaze died and the flames were drawn out of him like poison from a wound. Cam went numb, emptied of fire.
