Page 27 of Donovan
A hare wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Declan, but a deer… a deer might.
I slowly unstrapped my rifle, raising it with careful precision. The weight of it was familiar, steady in my hands. I took a step forward, angling myself to get the perfect shot.
The deer’s ears twitched, but it didn’t bolt. I had to be quick. Finger on the trigger, I exhaled, preparing to shoot. And then I heard it.
A low, guttural snarl rumbled behind me, deep and menacing.
My blood turned ice-cold.
I froze, my muscles locking up as the sound sent a sharp jolt of adrenaline through me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. That growl wasn’t human.
Slowly, carefully, I eased my finger off the trigger.
Every instinct screamed at me to move, to turn, to face whatever had crept up behind me. But I didn’t. Not yet. I couldn’t afford to make a sudden move.
The deer lifted its head, ears alert, and then bolted into the trees, disappearing in seconds. But I didn’t look after it.
I stayed exactly where I was, my breath shallow, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The growl came again, closer this time and I knew I wasn’t alone.
I spun, brushing against branches and twigs, not caring the deer had probably taken flight by my movement.
The leaves crunched underfoot, the sharp scent of the forest filling my lungs, and the adrenaline still thrumming in my veins.
A rustle behind me caught my attention, a low snarl that sent a chill down my spine. Instinctively, I froze, every muscle tense, every nerve alight.
My heart skipped a beat, and then another as I slowly turned my head, squinting into the thick underbrush.
I couldn't see anything at first, but the growl grew louder, closer, more menacing.
Then, it emerged from the shadows.
A creature, tall and gaunt, its skin stretched tight over bones that jutted at unnatural angles. Its face was hollow, sunken, its mouth smeared with something dark.
Blood. Its eyes, those bloodshot, glassy red eyes, locked onto mine with an unnatural hunger, its lips peeling back to reveal jagged, needle-like fangs.
The scent of rot clung to it, thick and nauseating, a stench of decay and something fouler, something wrong.
The way it moved, jerky and uncoordinated yet eerily fast, sent a bolt of unease down my spine. It was a vampire, but not like Declan.
Not like the ones who still clung to their humanity. This thing was feral.
A snarl tore from its throat, a rasping, guttural sound that made my pulse stutter. And then, from the periphery, another form slithered out from behind a tree.
Smaller but just as horrifying, this one had patches of flesh peeling from its face, its hands twisted into claws, its fingers far too long.
Its mouth hung open, saliva glistening in the dim light as its tongue darted out, tasting the air.
I stiffened.
Two of them.
I barely had time to process before the first lunged.
It moved too fast. One second, it was feet away; the next, it was right in front of me, swiping at my throat with razor-sharp nails.
I threw myself back, dodging by mere inches, the wind from its movement grazing my skin.
