A Low Down Dirty Shane by Sierra Dean Page A

snorted. “Seems like the horse had a mind of its own. But I could use that armor if you know where I might get some.”
    Siobhan took the bow from her shoulder, plucked one of the arrowheads from her strap and squeezed it to create an arrow. After climbing up onto the crumbling stone wall, she held her weapons in one hand and took the AK-47 from Shane so he could follow her up without shooting either of them in an accidental slip. When they were both safely on pseudo-solid ground, she handed back the gun like it had burned her.
    “Don’t like the heavy firepower?”
    Siobhan wiped her free palm on her pants. “I don’t like weapons I can’t control.”
    “I think you could control it plenty fi—”
    The sound of a roar echoed down the path, cutting short whatever witty retort Shane had been about to throw her way.
    “They’re playing our song,” he announced.
    Or at least that’s what Siobhan thought he said. She was already tearing down the path, bounding over fallen branches and dodging snapped logs that blocked a clear line and threatened to cut her if she got too close.
    Shane was behind her, ungraceful but fast. Where she had sidestepped, he stomped directly on the debris, causing sticks to crunch loudly under his big boots. Siobhan climbed up on a rock, and Shane came up behind her, giving them a perfect vantage point over a clearing that hadn’t been there before. Trees were felled in a space about forty feet across that looked like a crop circle. In the center of the clearing was the fae, hauling a tree up from its roots and bashing the ground with it like it was a giant mallet. It was making a pained howling noise and would periodically stop attacking the tree long enough to cover its ears.
    Siobhan thought about trolls and how sensitive they were to sound. It was possible this fae was similar and the noises of a modern city like New York were proving to be overwhelming for it. That was the only logical reason she could think of as to why it wasn’t on a rampant killing spree, making up for the seven human lifetimes her family had kept it locked up on the other side. It would take one hell of a distraction to put a monster of its size off a mission for bloodshed.
    As it cupped its ears and kicked at the felled tree, Siobhan saw her opening. “Here goes nothing.” She held the bow and without a moment of hesitation let an arrow fly. She was already loading a second arrow when the first struck home, lodging itself in the monster’s exposed neck. It bellowed and jerked its head towards her, black eyes searching the empty space for its attacker. “You might want to get your gun ready,” Siobhan said. “Shit, as you so politely phrased it, is about to hit the fan.”
    The second arrow sank into the creature’s skull, a direct shot through the ear. Shane sucked in a breath, and they both watched, expecting the beast to collapse. Instead it ripped the arrow out and hurled it into the air where it bounced as lightly as a toothpick off a still-standing tree.
    The fae might have been distracted by sensory overload, but it wasn’t physically weakened.
    Siobhan was loading another arrow and Shane readying his machine gun when the monster spotted their location. Though they hadn’t seen any new bodies, it must have eaten something because it was towering over twenty-five feet with forearms almost as big as Shane and legs so thick a lumberjack wouldn’t be able to hack them down.
    “We’re supposed to kill this thing?” Shane asked.
    “Ideally we just need to bring it down. If we can get it to stay in one place long enough, I can banish it back alive.”
    The beast was charging for them, its steps so wide it would be on them in seconds.
    “Hey, Red?”
    “Yeah?” Siobhan’s bow hand was steady, her sights trained on the creature’s eyes.
    “For what it’s worth…”
    She glanced at him, a quick shift of her gaze, and he was smiling his dopey, charming grin at her. How the idiot could still seem