Somewhere in her mind, a rational part of her realized with clinical detachment that the things had laid in wait and prepared a trap for her—the silence, the darkened house to prevent her from truly seeing what had happened when she first came through. The creatures, whatever they were, knew she would come back and were intelligent enough to prepare for it.

She scanned the room again, this time trying to think, to analyze. Fear still held her, but the precious few seconds the three creatures gave her, just looking and chattering, were enough to let her regroup. Lily knew she had to run away, and she also knew that if those things were taking their time, almost laughing at her, that meant she had fallen in their trap. There was no way out of the living room, so she would have to create her own escape route.

Mackenna’s house had a fireplace. It was just on the other side of the overturned couch. If she could only reach it, she would be able to use the bronze poker as a weapon. To do that though, she would have to get very close to the little monster perched on the table, and she would have to move fast before the three creatures stopped their yapping and closed in on her.

Lily got her feet under her and grabbed the first thing her fingers found: the glass bottle where her grandmother had put away the remnants of the remedy she had prepared that night, which was miraculously intact. She hurled it toward the table with all her strength and it shattered in front of the creature. The shards showered its face and arms, and it screeched in surprise, scurrying backward. Wherever the clear liquid from the mixture touched its dirty fur, a thin rivulet of smoke curled away, carrying the stench of burned flesh.

She lunged across the living room, vaulted over the couch with adrenaline-powered grace, and reached the poker. She turned back toward the creatures, brandishing it like a blade. Her breath came in short gasps, and her eyes roved wildly between the three monsters now crouched together in front of the living room door, but her hand held steady. She took a step forward and they scuttled back, shifting their weight, their eyes wide open.

They’re scared, she thought. One had fresh blood on its head where she had bludgeoned it with the vase. Another had charred tufts of fur and a gaping cut in one of its clawed hands. None of them made any sound anymore. I’ve managed to hurt them and now they’re scared.

A sliver of confidence made her stand straighter. She took two more quick steps and one of the creatures yipped and fled to the side.

Okay. Okay, I can get out of here.

She kept walking slow and measured steps toward the door, menacing the creatures while moving slightly to the side so she could keep the one cowering inside the room in her vision. It moved farther into the room while the other two retreated into the corridor when she was nearly upon the door. She stepped close to the wall, ready to bolt while still keeping an eye on both groups.

Then, the creature in the room smiled up at her. It was a sweet smile, huge eyes blinking and bloody teeth poking from behind non-existent lips, and it froze the blood in her veins with a grip of terror. The poker wavered in her hand and she heard a snicker coming from the creature that seemed no longer scared. She focused her attention and found it staring at her with amused curiosity. Very slowly, one of its hands rose to its face and one wicked claw unfurled, pointing.

Up.

Lily raised her eyes. She stood below the trapdoor to the attic and the gleaming yellow eyes of a fourth creature stared down.

It launched itself at her, its claws extended, its mouth opening in a screech that displayed rows of jagged teeth. Lily brought the poker up but its feet kicked and slapped it out of her hands. It fell with a clank that was drowned by the thud of her body. Its face hovered above hers for a second, then it screeched again, bringing down its claws to rake her face. She twisted and brought her arms around her head, trying to curl into a ball to protect herself, but the moment her back touched the floor, the other three creatures rushed her. They held her arms and her legs, their claws slicing into her flesh. Teeth grazed her side and she arched her back, bucking, trying to dislodge the creature from her chest in a desperate attempt to escape.

She succeeded in forcing it to hold on tighter, its hands and feet opening bloody gouges in her upper body.

Grandma, where are you? I’m going to die here! I need you! The thoughts floated around her head, swimming in pain and fear.

Then, the creature on top of her collapsed, gurgling. A spear of cold punched her chest and icy water tickled out of its mouth and down her neck, mixing with her tears. It didn’t move again.

The one that had bitten her stopped gnawing and raised its head. Through blurry eyes, Lily saw it fall, struggling and fighting, clutching its belly. It had been speared by the poker. The figure wielding it yanked it free and the creature twitched before staying still. The figure then rose to his feet, arching the poker like a bat as he did. Warm droplets of blood fell on Lily’s face and the head of the creature holding her arms cracked with a sickening noise.

Lily jerked and kicked her legs. The thing that held them offered only a token resistance and then let go, scuttling back and hissing at the newcomer. He stood by her head and held the bent poker loosely clasped in one hand. The other he held out, palm up, to her.

She grabbed on with both hands like a lifeline, but her legs refused to hold her weight when she tried to climb to her feet. The understanding of how close she’d been to death—how close she could still be—made the sobs uncontrollable.

“Stand,” he said after a moment of her fumbling.

Lily felt fingers of hysterics reaching down her spine and she laughed between hiccups.

I’m trying. I’m trying! She couldn’t even form the words.

He canted his head to the side, his eyes fixed on the remaining creature as he considered it. His fingers tightened on her trembling ones. “There are more,” he said in calm tones. “Stand.”

And somehow, she did. She had to clutch his hand and forearm and use him like a crutch, but she did.

“My grandmother,” she managed to say.

He shook his head.

“No, what?” she insisted, her voice barely above a crow.

“Not here.” His gaze wandered the room, the house. He frowned. “We must leave. At once.”

There were sounds of scurrying feet, of claws hitting the wooden floors. There was faint chattering and yapping coming from other rooms, other dark corners. Part of Lily was appalled at herself, but still she nodded. She had to get away and then she would think straight and figure out what was happening.

“Okay.” She shuffled toward the door. He dropped the bronze poker and used his freed hand to steady her and hurry her along. They stopped by the living room door. “It’s dead,” Lily whispered, staring at the body of the fourth creature. She hadn’t seen it fall—hadn’t seen him attack.

“So it is,” said the stranger, his tone amused. “And so are the other three, if you failed to note it.”

“I didn’t see you move.” Somehow, that fact was important. It tried to tell her something, something she should consider instead of just following a man she didn’t know, but the message got garbled and lost in the trauma of recent events.

As a reply, he gave the body a light kick, just enough to roll it on its back. A trickle of water escaped its nose and mouth, and Lily remembered the cold liquid on her neck when the first creature died too.

“Drowned?” She freed a hand to rub at her neck, fighting back a shiver.

“Yes. Now, if you are quite done?”

“Couldn’t you kill the rest? So we can stay? I need to find my grandma, see what happened to her.”

He pretended to be pensive for all of a blink and then began walking again, dragging Lily behind with little resistance on her side. “I will not,” he said while they turned the hall and crossed the main door. It had been blasted off its hinges and lay haphazardly against the wall. “They are but overgrown rats, nigh impossible to exterminate.”

“But—”

“They shall eat you the moment I turn my back for a fight,” he cut her off. “They will not be caught unawares a second time.”

Lily said nothing else and did her best to keep up with his long strides as they descended the porch.

“This is far enough,” he said when they cleared the front yard. He pried her fingers off his arm and hand, not without care, and guided her to cling to a young tree instead.

“The house is right there,” she said, fighting his movements. “They’ll get me. They’ll come out and eat me anyway! You can’t leave me here.”

He paused, stared at her and, once more, disentangled her fingers from his clothing, using a little more force. “This is far enough,” he repeated.

“Don’t leave me!” Lily cried, hating the terror in her voice, the need in her outstretched hands, the willingness to just escape, and yet not hating it enough to stop clinging to survival.

Before her sentence was finished, though, he was gone. His body melted, a liquid shape of pure blackness that flickered in the purple light of a rapidly falling twilight, and then it coalesced once more before her very eyes. The blackness solidified into smooth skin covering coiled muscles, its rugged edges a dripping mane, and when it shifted, powerful hooves turned up the soil in their wake.

Lily’s knees gave out and she fell to the ground, her mouth opening and closing without any sound.

“This is far enough for me to shift,” the man’s voice said, sounding straight to her head.

“What are you?” she managed when he turned a steady gaze on her.

“I cannot imagine you find me to be a worse alternative to your other guests.”

She tore her eyes from him and toward the house. She thought she imagined yellow eyes blinking in the darkened doorway. If this man—this other creature—in front of her meant her harm, it couldn’t possibly be worse than what awaited her in there.

He sensed her resolution and the great horse head nodded. “Come. Climb up and let us be away.”

Lily climbed to her feet, leaning on the tree for help, and then gingerly placed her hands on the horse’s back, his arched neck. Her head barely came above his withers.

“I can’t ride,” she confessed.

Its forelegs bent, its back lowered. Its head remained tilted, staring at her with calm and intelligent eyes. “You cannot fall,” the voice said.

She clambered on awkwardly, mindful of her wounds and stealing glances back. Once astride, she barely had time to brace herself before he surged to his feet, heaving a great snort and launching into a fast canter that quickly became a gallop. She didn’t dare scream.

They cut through shrubbery and jumped clear through fallen branches, twisting around gnarled trees and evading rocky outcrops, and Lily didn’t fall.