Not a vampire, as it turned out. I could have handled a vampire. This was a dog. A big, scary dog, something like a Rottweiler, maybe, and it wasn’t barking; it was intent on biting. I heard the growl coming at me, and next thing I knew jaws had clamped down on my arm, and my phone went flying. I dimly heard the crunch of metal and glass, but that was not the biggest problem I had at the moment. I’d put on my heavy coat, which was helping, but this dog had a seriously painful grip on me, and a lot of weight behind it; he shook his massive head, and I saw a shine of red in his eyes. Not natural.

I surprised him by not trying to pull away, but instead throwing myself into him and over, flipping him clumsily on his side. He let go of me with a surprised yelp, and I rolled up to my feet and spared one glance for my phone.

Destroyed.

No time to mourn; I was in serious shit, because this dog wasn’t just a dog; the hellhound glare of its eyes was proof enough of that. I’d never seen anything like it before, not even in Morganville; dogs were pretty predictable, but this one was coming after me like I was a steak and he’d been starved for months. All my weapons were in the pack, which was with Michael, and besides I really didn’t like the idea of killing a dog, even one that was trying to kill me.

It launched itself at me in a running leap, growling, showing way-too-sharp teeth, and I fell backward to the grass and put one foot up like a soccer player going for a goal. Good timing. My foot caught the dog underneath and changed the trajectory from down to my throat, to up and headed for a hard landing against Michael’s car.

Michael caught it as it bounced off. More accurately, he got it in a headlock and held it there as it snarled and fought and ineffectively clawed the air for purchase. I heaved in thick, fast breaths and got to my feet in a post-fight burst of adrenaline. The sleeve of my coat was shredded, and I could feel bruises deep into my arm, but at least I hadn’t lost any flesh out of it.

Lucky.

‘What the hell?’ I said, and Michael shook his head.

‘No idea,’ he said. ‘It’s almost as if it’s been turned, but you can’t do that. Animals can’t become vampire. They don’t have enough – will, I guess.’

‘Tell that to the devil beast, then, because he damn sure looks like he’s been turned.’

‘Whatever he is, we can’t leave him running around out here,’ Michael said. ‘You mind waiting a bit until this is taken care of?’

‘Do I have a choice?’