Terra's Victory (Destiny's Trinities Book 7) by Tracy Cooper-Posey

against explaining anything, leavened by the admonition to use their best judgment. In the last few weeks, Rhys had entertained the notion of taking Dobson to the nearest bar, pouring a bottle of JD down his throat and when he was good and ready to listen, telling Dobson exactly what was stalking his town.
    He considered it once more as he went over to Dobson, moving between the big concrete blocks that marked off the VIP parking lot. There were more of the triangular blocks on the other side of the parking lot, showing where the tarmac ended, under the snow layer. There was nothing but tracts of trees beyond that. This arena was right on the edge of town and catered to all the new homes in the area. Kids practiced here during the week.
    Rhys glanced at the trees uneasily. Trees could hide a lot of things, he’d learned lately. However, it was a bright winter day and the good cheer of the game was still lingering. Rhys gave Dobson a friendly smile.
    “Haven’t seen you at a game for a while,” Dobson observed.
    Most games were at night, when he was busy hunting vampeen nests. “I’ve been busy lately,” Rhys said. Don’t explain , he reminded himself.
    Dobson glanced at Cora and Aithan where they stood at the very edge of the VIP parking lot, waiting. “So I heard.” He said it evenly, his tone neutral. Rhys knew he was being judged, anyway. The small town attitude of minding everyone’s business lingered in Erie.
    Rhys shrugged it off. Dobson had always considered Rhys to be “just a sheriff”, although he happily accepted Rhys’ help and the resources of his office when he wanted them.
    He frowned, glancing at the trees again. The uneasiness was building, like a fever. “You know, I shouldn’t keep you, with the boys out in the cold here,” Rhys said, trying to hurry them along. He realized his heart was thudding and glanced at Cora. She was a hunter as much as he was.
    She was staring at the trees, too, a frown marring the smooth perfection of her forehead.
    Aithan was looking at Rhys. Then he glanced down at Cora. He turned to study the tree line, too.
    Dobson opened his mouth to respond, a scowl on his face. He resented even the suggestion of orders from Rhys. He would forever be sensitive about the division of responsibilities for law enforcement between the Sheriff’s office and the city police department.
    He didn’t get a chance to speak, though. The hounds, two of them, broke out of the trees with a yowl, their scruffs upright in hunting mode, their eyes more yellow than red, which meant they were extremely hungry. They shot across the open ground between the trees and the parking lot at a speed that made Rhys’ jaw drop in surprise.
    No, his surprise came from them being here at all, daring to attack in front of so many people. He froze at the unexpectedness of it.
    As the front hound’s paws hit the top of the concrete divider and it launched itself over the top, using the divider for leverage, Rhys finally moved, triggered into action by pure habit.
    He pulled out his knife and sprinted toward the thing.
    Cora was faster than he. He left the hound in the rear for her. Aithan, the strategist, would step in where he thought he would help most. Rhys trusted his judgment completely. He’d never failed to be there when Rhys needed him.
    Time slowed down as Rhys considered how to take the thing out. There were a few tricks he’d developed to deal with them. They were harder to take down than vampeen, because of their weight and strength. Yet they were stupid, driven by instinct. That made them predictable.
    Judging from the way the lead hound was angling himself, he was going for the boys. Of course. The tender, young shoots. The easy pickings.
    “Get in the car!” Rhys yelled over his shoulder and hoped that Dobson would for once listen to him and obey. Then he moved sideways quickly, getting himself into position.
    His movement drew the hound’s attention. The eyes, sickly yellow with hunger