Free The Hunter and the Hunted: Two Stories of the Otherworld by Kelley Armstrong Page A

Presumably it was back the way we’d come, at the start of the corridor. Since there was no longer a corridor, though . . . Also, the exit was a hole in the ceiling, which wouldn’t make things easy.
    “No,” he said finally. “But I can guess the general direction.”
    Something leaped at me, something small and furry, teeth digging into my arm. Pain ripped through it. I conjured my sword and caught a glimpse of a mole-like snout as I threw the beast and brandished my sword, Trsiel doing the same.
    We’d been down here long enough for our eyes to adjust, and I could make out a little beyond the glow of our swords. We were surrounded by what looked like a dozen moles, each the size of a fox, blind things, with no obvious eyes but lots of sharp teeth and equally sharp claws. I had no idea what they were—there was no afterlife Darwin willing to brave the hell dimensions to name all the inhabitants.
    They were dangerous. They were guarding the book. They’d shred us with those teeth if they got the chance. That was all we needed to know.
    Another one leaped at me. Before I could swing my blade, Trsiel had sliced it in two, both halves falling, twitching, to the rocky floor. Two more shrieked as if in shared pain. They jumped. I skewered one. Trsiel lopped the head off the other. Then we heard the beating of massive wings as hot air swirled around us.
    “Incoming!” I yelled.
    “Run!”
    “Where?”
    Trsiel gave me a shove. Another mole-fox sprang. I swung, but it was too close to hit. Its teeth sank into my arm. Trsiel yanked it off and threw it aside.
    As we started to run, I heard the beat of the hell-beast’s wings. Then silence. I knew what that silence meant and wheeled just in time to see a massive scaled creature diving at Trsiel. I yelled. He dove to the side, but the beast only changed course, talons outstretched. I ran, swinging my sword at those huge talons. The beast yanked them up just in time, and I staggered, spinning with the force of my empty swing.
    Trsiel shouted. Something grabbed my sword arm, wrapping around it. Talons caught my shoulder, digging in like daggers, making me gasp, pain blinding me. The ground disappeared under my feet. I looked up to see scales and feathers.
    I cast a binding spell, but the beast just kept winging its way up. Then it stopped, and I thought it was just a delayed reaction on the spell—was shocked that it had actually worked. Then the hell-beast screamed. I let out a yelp, too, as acid blood rained down. I heard Trsiel shout something from below but I didn’t catch it, just focused on launching a fireball. As I threw it up against the hell-beast’s underbelly, I saw Trsiel’s sword there, embedded nearly to the hilt. Then the sword vanished as he unconjured it. I threw a fireball straight at the gaping wound. The beast let out an unearthly howl and dropped me.
    I hit the hard ground. Which hurt. Trsiel yanked me to my feet as the hell-beast swooped. I saw its head this time—massive furred skull with giant fangs. Trsiel yanked his sword arm back and I was going to tell him it wouldn’t do any good—the beast was still too high to reach. But he didn’t swing the blade. He threw it, like a javelin, straight up at the beast’s throat. It pierced it, and I covered my head as acid blood spattered us.
    “Nice trick,” I said. “You’ve got to teach me that one.”
    “Later. I think I heard—”
    A growl came from deep in the cavern, like the one we’d heard before. Not the hell-beast then, and too loud to be the mole-foxes.
    Above our heads, the hell-beast let out a gurgling shriek. It wasn’t dead, obviously. Maybe not even mortally wounded.
    “Let’s go!” Trsiel said, hand on my elbow.
    We ran. We could hear the hell-beast’s wings flapping as it retreated. Surrendering? Or simply pulling back for another attack?
    We continued through the darkness, our swords and a light ball illuminating the way. Then I saw a faint glow across the cavern. I