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With a curse, Westvane unfurled his wings. Hell of a time to learn how to fly, but… so be it. The timing couldn’t be helped. Truly stood in the pipe. The Wendigo had her in its sights. Which made him the Door Master’s only hope of survival.

47

HELLO AGAIN

Glass rattled as the steel-framed door banged closed behind her. The slam echoed, rippling across the main terminal of the train station. The noise barely registered. The monster standing on the other side of the aisle glaring at her, however, did.

She’d made a huge mistake. One that grew bigger by the moment as horror pushed disbelief out of the way. The Wendigo. It looked different. Yet another version of the same beast, this variant nothing like the one that had escaped from the confines of her house — or the human it had pretended to be.

Ass-planted on polished tiles, she sat frozen, in open-mouthed astonishment, staring up at it while it grinned at her. Needle-sharp teeth with blackened tips flashed beneath huge pendant lights. Westvane yelled something. His words didn’t register. She was too busy scrambling, crab-crawling backward, rubber boot soles squeaking across the floor as she looked for cover. The frantic search was futile. 30thStreet Station’s grand concourse provided little to no cover. Instinct urged her to turn around and exit as fast as she entered.

With a quick glance, Truly gauged the distance to the doors. Seven, maybe eight feet behind her. Not an insurmountable distance, but the question was — could she make it before the Wendigo got ahold of her? Inching backwards, she ran all the scenarios down inside her mind and —

“Truly,” Westvane growled.

Her attention flicked in his direction and…shit. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t turn tail and run even as every instinct she owned screamed for her to leave Westvane to it. He was a warrior, an Assenta hunter with more skills in his fingertips than she possessed in her entire body. The expression he wore told her he wanted her to go, but running would be weak. An act akin to waving a white flag without ever having stepped onto the field.

The drumbeat increased inside her head.Run. Run. RUN!

Refusing to listen, Truly stopped backpedaling. Stupidity run amuck? Probably, but the reason she’d entered the station hadn’t changed. Whether he knew it or not, Westvane needed her help. Two magic-wielders working together were better than one fighting on his own. Their battle with the Earth Octopus was proof enough of that, so…

She couldn’t do what Westvane wanted.

Somewhere along the way, Westvane had become important to her, the yin to her yang in an unbalanced game. Which meant she couldn’t turn away — or retreat from the truth. She and Westvane were partners. If she let him fend for himself now, she was not only a terrible friend, but the worse kind of coward.

Not that she’d inform him of her decision, never mind the conviction anchoring it. Westvane didn’t care what she thought, and right now seemed an especially bad time to point out the obvious. Or start an argument. One look at his face, and she knew he wanted to rip her head off and punt it out into the street.

She leveled her chin.

Westvane muttered something obscene.

Heart pounding, Truly pushed to her feet and sidestepped. A slow, careful shuffle as Westvane cursed and the Wendigo tensed. She did too, but for different reasons. The beast was huge. Much larger than the first time she’d come face to snout with it. Its horns hadn’t been as tall, its frame as broad, its clawed fingers as long or —

The Wendigo’s tail swung around.

Hard scales clicked. Bright green eyes with vertical pupils locked on her. Her stomach clenched. Suppressing a shudder, she swallowed as the giant snake shifted sideways, preparing to strike. A forked tongue slithered out of its mouth. Curled at the tip, the serpent scented the air, tracking her from over the Wendigo’s shoulder.

Working moisture into her mouth, she met the beast’s gaze. “Hello again.”

“Door Master.” Six eyes locked on her, the Wendigo executed a half-bow.

The formal greeting threw her.

It sounded… she frowned… respectful. As though the Wendigo believe it faced a worthy adversary. One it intended to kill, but couldn’t execute without first observing the rules of engagement. Odd, but then everything about the beast was out of the ordinary, monstrous but beautiful despite its brutality.

She almost hated to see it hurt… and re-imprisoned.

Almost. But not quite.

Despite their (relatively) cordial interactions, she knew the Wendigo couldn’t be trusted. It wasn’t her friend. It wasn’t a pet. It was a thought-stealing, riot-inducing demon with one goal — to wreak havoc and ruin whatever world it inhabited. Her personal history with it made no difference. The beast might enjoy rules, or the appearance of them, but politesse played a minor part. Protocol, honor, the correct way to annihilate were more important. How she understood the Wendigo’s aim was anyone’s guess as its straightened from its bow, precepts met, and focused on her.

She saw the violence in its eyes. Recognized the maneuvering of an apex predator — the desperate claw of a cornered animal formulating a new plan.

Raising her hands, she held both out, palms up and to the sides, and retreated. Her feet whispered over gleaming marble tile. Each rasp grated against her frayed nerves. She inhaled calm and exhaled tension, moving with precision, a new plan developing on the fly.

The Wendigo wasn’t the only one capable of changing tact mid-sail. It might be bigger. It might be stronger. It might be an accomplished killer, and yet… she held the advantage. She stood in center focus. On stage, lit with a spotlight so bright she commanded the Wendigo’s attention to the exclusion of all else.

Maybe she could use it.