The boar-hound charged. It came like a cannonball, snarling, giant maw open, tusks ready to rend.

Julie thrust something into the fire.

The hound covered the last ten feet.

Julie jerked the object out of the flame and held it up in front of her like a shield.

The boar-hound slid to a stop, its pig eyes fixed on the hot arrow in Julie’s hand. The creature pushed forward and recoiled, as if striking an invisible wall.

He slumped in relief. The wound on his neck was closing. He was still alive. Now it was just a matter of time, and she had just bought them some.

The boar-hound howled. In the distance, three other voices answered.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed: seconds, minutes. But the wind had changed, and he smelled the second hound before he heard it charge its way into the building and slide to a stop before Julie’s circle. Third and fourth followed. He heard the bird, saw it as it flew over him, circling, and then he heard the hunter’s horse.

He heard the rough sound of metal striking stone. She was chopping at the arrowhead with her tomahawk.

The pain in Derek’s neck had ebbed. The edges of the gray skin shrank, turning pink, not fast enough but it would have to do. She had done her part. It was time for him to do his.

In the darkness of the second floor, he slid his shoes off, then his pants.

The horse clopped its way into the building.

“You cannot break it,” a deep male voice said.

He looked down. The hunter stopped his horse midway down the floor. The four boar-hounds lined up between him and Julie.

Here you are, asshole.

“The arrowhead’s stone. This is stainless steel.” She sounded determined. “I’ll shatter it.”

Derek rose quietly in the shadows.

“That is my first arrow. The arrow is eternal and so am I. As long as there are humans and their prey, I will exist.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She smashed the tomahawk into the arrow.

Now. The change dashed through him, the brief pain welcome and sweet. His muscles tore and grew again, his bones lengthened, his fur sprouted, and suddenly he was whole again, stronger, faster, seven feet tall, a meld of beast and man. The burn of silver was still there, but now just a razor-sharp reminder of the pain and the need to kill its source. He smelled blood. His three-inch claws itched. He heard eight hearts beating: five animal, one bird, and two human. He wanted to taste the hot, salty rush of blood pounding through their veins, to open them and feel them struggle in the grip of his teeth.