He felt Travis step up beside him, pull the knife from his belt and without being told, without hesitation, thrust the oil-covered blade into the eye of the beast. Jubal had his hands full with the beast Zev had shot earlier, trying to prevent it from reaching the verandah.
Zev and Travis leapt back and away from the thrashing, dying animal, turning back to the porch. It was empty. Where the window had been, there was now an enormous hole. His heart sinking, Zev caught up his crossbow, dove through the window, somersaulted to his feet, and ran toward the hallway.
The trail of black blood led through the house to the kitchen where there was another enormous hole where the door to the basement should have been. The hellhound had been programmed to find and kill the children, and it was following their scent trail.
He took the stairs two at a time, jumped one-handed over the railing when he was halfway down and landed in a crouch just a few feet from the two-headed hound. One head lolled to one side, two streams of black blood pouring from the sightless eyes. Black fur was gone from the head, neck and shoulders, leaving blistering skin that seemed to bubble up loosely as if underneath, the oil was dissolving everything it touched.
The beast used its deadly claws to rip at the wall, tearing great long strips from the structure, but as fast as he dug, the wall repaired itself. Each time the claws sank into the wall, the hellhound lifted its head and bellowed with pain, the wall creating a current of electricity that clearly went right through the animal. Smoke rose around him, the stench of rotting, burned eggs intensifying, but even the pain didn’t slow the monster down.
“Travis, are you with me?” Zev asked.
“Yes.” The answer was very faint, but steady.
“I’m going to ask you to do something that will be very scary and equally as dangerous. Are you up for it?”
“If it keeps that thing away from my family,” Travis replied.
Zev drew his sword. “I’m going to sever both heads. You have to keep track of the one with the eye still intact. It won’t be easy. The hound is going to rage at us. It will likely attack me, headless. The two heads will roll around and black blood will be everywhere. You can’t look at anything but that one spot, the eye that needs to be closed. Fire your arrow and hit what you’re aiming at.”
“What if I miss?” Travis’s voice trembled.
“You can’t miss. Do you understand me? You can’t miss. You know how to shoot. Falcon taught you. You’ll hit what you’re aiming at.”
“Yes, sir,” Travis said.
Zev took a breath, let it out and stepped close to the massive hellhound. He brought his sword down hard, using the combined strength of Lycan and Carpathian, using his centuries of experience in battle. The sword cut cleanly through the gruesome creature, severing the two heads so that they fell to the floor.
A blast of heat rose from the severed neck, smoke rising and black blood pouring from the hole. Zev jumped back to avoid the splatter, placing his feet carefully as the headless body whipped around, claws ripping at the air around it.
The two heads rolled, leaving a trail of poisonous blood on the floor. One eye glowed a ghastly yellow, shining like a beacon each time it came around to the surface. Travis didn’t look to see what the headless body of the gigantic hound was doing to Zev. He did every single thing Falcon had taught him. He took a breath. Let it out. Counted to himself to get the rhythm of his target. Visualized the arrow going straight and true. He waited and as the head rolled, he let his arrow fly, and just as quickly fit another in the crossbow, just as Falcon had instructed.
His arrow hit the yellow eye dead center. It stared at him malevolently, wide open, the arrow protruding. The head rolled closer to him. He didn’t take his gaze from his target. When the eye rolled back up to the surface, he let lose the second arrow and just as quickly reloaded.
The head stilled, the eye open and staring, but now it appeared a faded yellow, hollow, with no real life or intelligence behind the glare. Still, Travis couldn’t tear his gaze away, fearing that the creature would come to life again. He was afraid to look behind him, fearing Zev wouldn’t be there and the headless body would be about to rip him to pieces with those terrible claws.
“Travis.” Zev’s soft voice reached him through the roaring in his ears. “Thank you. You killed it. We need to go back and help Jubal. If you need a minute, you can join the others in the safe room and let them know we’re almost done here. Jubal and I will clean up.”
Zev’s voice was that same calm, steady miracle of complete confidence. But he was moving up the stairs fast, a graceful, fluid exit, but an exit all the same. Travis was well aware the elite hunter was making certain Jubal was still alive and had killed the last of the hellhounds. He didn’t want to be left alone in the same room with the macabre two-headed beast, even though it appeared dead. He wasn’t about to open the safe room door until he was absolutely certain it was safe to do so. He ran after Zev.
Zev hated to leave the boy after he’d shown so much bravery, and was happy to hear his footsteps as Travis raced after him, but his mind was already on the fiends from hell trying to get to the children. There had been five of them. He’d killed the leader. The two-headed monster was dead. The two hounds that collided together had been slain as well. That left one. They’d been lucky. Jubal had good aim, and so had Paul and Travis. The oil had come in handy. Without it, the beasts would come at them again and again, in spite of the arrows. There was no other real way to kill the hellhound without the oil. It acted like poison to them.
Zev burst out onto the porch, ready for anything—other than the scene in front of him. Paul and Jubal sat on the ground a few inches from a dead hellhound, both laughing almost hysterically. They looked up as he approached. The hound and both men were covered in oil and puddles of it lay on the ground.
“Were either of you hurt? Bitten? Clawed? Did you get any blood on you?”
“No,” Jubal said. He looked at Paul and they broke into laughter again. “We’re just covered, ready for the fryer. How about you?”
Zev let the tension drain out of him, although he was fairly certain the two men were bordering on hysteria. “I’m covered in oil as well.” He sank down onto the ground beside them and surveyed the four massive bodies. “So are they. What did you do?”
Paul grinned and wiped his face with the back of his hand, smearing more oil. “I kept throwing buckets of the stuff at it while Jubal kept shooting. Eventually, the darn thing went down, but it took about ten arrows and five full buckets of the stuff. I can’t believe you managed to conjure up a replenishing container of oil.”