Biting Oz: Biting Love, Book 5 by Mary Hughes Page B

neck, his long fingernails digginginto goon throat, squeezing hard…the goon’s neck snapped, head flopping like a rag doll.
    I sucked air.
    Glynn released the attacker. The body fell to the sidewalk with a sick whump .
    “Oh my God.” Dumas backed away, face sickly yellow.
    I whirled toward grass. The horror…and my soda…came up in acid rivers. Glynn caught my shoulders, steadied my head until the waves of nausea passed. When I was done, he gently wiped my mouth with a soft cloth, another surprise from his jacket.
    I looked up. Mishela was inspecting the bodies, going through pockets with a cool professionalism that struck me as profoundlyat odds with her seventeen-year-old innocence.
    “Chicago,” she said. “But we expected that.”
    “Wh…what did they want?” I found myself clinging to Glynn, had to consciously release him.
    “Dunno. But they tried to bag Mr. Dumas.”
    And now they were dead. My eyes found the first man, his horribly mutilated jaw… The holes were still there, but I couldn’t see the shards. I tried to get a closer look. “Something’s wrong. Look at that guy’s—”
    “Time to go.” Glynn grabbed my arm, hauled west.
    “Come on, Mr. Dumas.” Mishela reached for the director.
    A black-gloved hand got him first.
    The hand was attached to a figure that materialized from a dark cleft between the bank and a yarn shop. Average height, slim, wearing a trench coat, a full mask obscured his…her— its features. It threw Dumas over its shoulder and disappeared between buildings before I was even fully aware of him/her/it.
    Mishela sprang after, her face like a raptor’s.
    “ No .” Glynn’s voice rang with stark command. More—with mastery.
    She yanked up like a puppet. Her raptor face disappeared but I’d remembered why it was familiar. It was Diana, Greek goddess of the hunt.
    Demons, monsters—gods? Had Nixie soaked my reeds in vodka again? Just what was going on here?
    “Mishela.” Glynn’s voice eased back to musical. “Before we pursue, we must see Junior safely home.”
    “No time,” I said. “Every second counts in an abduction. We need to call the police, get them on Dumas’s trail.”
    “We don’t need the police.” A smile crooked the corner of Mishela’s mouth. “Not when Glynn’s the best tracker there is.”
    “Okay.” I believed her. After all, he had that whole nature’s king/druid vibe going. “But the police have equipment and manpower. And a ton of paperwork to start, so we need to let them know.”
    But Mishela wasn’t listening, and Glynn was absorbed by the dark cleft between buildings where Dumas had been taken, touching the brick, sniffing it. When he moved off, Mishela followed.
    If I didn’t want to be left behind with three bodies, I needed to leave too.
    Normally I wouldn’t have worried about staying by myself. But we’d been attacked on Main Street—safe-as-cottonballs Main. Attacked by three thugs whom Glynn had not just fought but annihilated. Dumas had been abducted. It was a nightmare.
    Hmm, we were   standingone block north of Elm Street.
    None of it made sense, and I needed it to. What you don’t know can hurt you—and worse, can seriously reduce your profit margin.
    So when Glynn and Mishela disappeared between buildings, I ran after.
    Or rather, limped. Broken bones are screamingly painful. Numb cracked toes are just awkward.
    I found them behind the bank, in an employee picnic area bordering the alley. Glynn was examining the landscaping hedges, Mishela watching closely. While they were absorbed, I pulled out my phone to call the cop shop.
    Glynn took off again, west down the alley. I clutched the phone and followed. Hitting sidewalk on Second, he dropped to his hands and knees and put nose to concrete.
    Like a hunting dog…or wolf.
    He got to his feet, brushing off his hands. “This way.” Nostrils dilated, he loped off, going north on Second.
    Very cool, slightly scary and another note stacked onto the weirdness