Free Doomsday Can Wait by Lori Handeland

a name for the Nephilim I was seeing.
    The beasts began to mill around the room, agitated, revealing as they paced what made them different.
    They didn't have tails. That oughta make them easy to spot.
    Suddenly, the largest of the group leaped through the window, and glass rained down. The others followed, springing gracefully through the now wide-open portal.
    Beneath a moon-drenched sky, the luceres ran as a pack. I'd hoped for a nice open field, no sign of a house or a town. Maybe even a sign that read: nowhere, Wyoming—population 3. But nothing was ever that easy.
    Instead, the wolves raced through suburban streets. The houses had been recently built; bicycles, tricycles, and Flintstones cars cluttered the driveways.
    "Where are you?" I muttered.
    As I watched, fireworks exploded in the distance, illuminating a familiar skyline, the resulting thunder rattling the earth.
    Then I was falling out of the vision, waking up on the floor of the cave nauseous, sore, and dizzy. My clothes were still soaked, cool against my flushed skin. My shoes squelched when I wiggled my toes. The earth beneath me shook with thunder, the sound reminiscent of the fireworks I'd viewed hundreds of miles away near the—
    "Sears Tower," I muttered.
    "Chicago."
    Summer leaned in the doorway. I stayed right where I was, too out of it to sit up. From prior experience I knew the dizzy nausea would pass; I just had to keep my head still for a few minutes.
    I received information in one of three ways. Ruthie spoke if a Nephilim came near; she told me what they were in visions like the one I'd just had; and she also came to me in dreams to answer what questions she could. There were rules about ghost whispering, and some information she couldn't reveal—usually what I really needed to know.
    Visions always left me weak and loopy, but they also imparted the most useful information.
    "Ever heard of a lucere?" I asked.
    Summer came closer, then sat on the ground and drew up her legs so she could rest her chin on her knees. I wondered if she'd practiced that adorable pose in front of a mirror.
    Rain trickled into the pool, pinging against the surface with a quick rat-a-tat-tat. Outside it was pouring, yet Summer was as dry as the desert in July.
    "A lucere is a type of lycanthrope," she answered.
    "I got that when they changed from people into wolves."
    Her blue eyes narrowed. "You want the information or you want to be a smart guy?"
    I didn't answer because obviously I wanted both, and after a few seconds, she went on.
    "Luceres roved near Rome. Some call them 'lucumo-nes,' derived from loco."
    "So they're crazier than the average werewolf?"
    "Yes. In ancient times luceres would form tribes or packs and wipe out entire villages."
     
    Kill them all.
    "I think they're still following that plan," I murmured.
    "Luceres shift following a ceremony." Which coincided with what I'd seen in my vision. "Once they decimated an area, the land, the homes, the businesses became theirs. They'd send a part of the tribe on to the next town they coveted, forming a new pack, blanketing entire areas with their kind."
    "An ancient Roman version of a hostile takeover."
    "So to speak," Summer agreed. "Some scholars believe the first lucere was King Lycaeon, a Greek king—"
    "How could the first lucere be Greek," I interrupted, "then wind up in Rome?"
    "Didn't all roads lead to Rome back then?"
    "You tell me."
    "Are you insinuating I'm old?" she asked.
    "I'm saying you're prehistoric."
    "Sticks and stones," Summer murmured. "I don't age, and you will."
    She had me there.
    Fairies didn't grow old; neither did Nephilim. Breeds were born and therefore died. They aged, but because they rarely got sick and healed all wounds, they didn't age as badly or as quickly as humans. I had no idea what I was, but definitely not ageless.
    "Getting back to Lycaeon," I prompted.
    "The myth was brought to Rome by Greek colonists. When they were confronted with lycanthropes, they called them by the