Read Midnight for Free Online Page B

pairs.”
    “There it is,” a man on the left said under his breath. He squinted through his rifle’s sight. “One hundred meters out. Ten o’clock.”
    Rosa’s face seemed carved out of marble, but Chris read the understanding and appreciation in her eyes.
    “Take the shot,” she said softly.
    One crack later and the dog yelped, fell.
    Chris hoisted his makeshift club and strode out into the scrub.
    “You idiot,” Rosa shouted. “You don’t even have a gun.”
    “Then cover me.”
    “Hector and Manuel, on me. Everyone else, hold.”
    Chris stepped around a rattlesnake den and wove through the tangle of tumbleweeds. He would have liked to have his solar-powered lantern, a comforting human artificiality in the midst of enveloping dusk. But he continued, propelled by the chance to brain another one of the fuckers that had killed Ange. He hadn’t seen one in a couple of months, as if their disease had run its course. But for people like Chris, they’d left a hideous scar.
    Once he would have held back. The truth about those disgusting, fetid creatures had appealed to him for mercy. Not anymore.
    The injured beast yelped and whined. Its back leg had been shattered. Blood poured out of a cavernous gut wound. That sick, unnatural shimmer of dark magic swirled around its body even as it lay dying. A stench of decay fogged out of its slack, panting mouth—what brimstone would smell like. Appropriate for creatures that had made the world a living hell.
    His muscles cold and stiff, Chris slammed the staff into its skull. One shot. Good-bye.
    A new monster at his back gurgled. Chris spun and slammed the toe of his boot into the thing’s gut, again, again. Harder. An old rage wove into each strike. His chest felt wrapped in flame. He kicked until its insides slipped onto the desert floor and filled the waffle pattern of his worn hiking boots.
    Sweat dripped in his eyes as he dropped to all fours.
    “Shit,” Rosa breathed.
    Even the desert seemed to hold its breath. Chris shuddered. The ends of his fingers and the backs of his thighs had gone numb. Slowly, as if coming out of a deep trance, he stood and wiped the slime off his hands.
    The closer he got to them when they died, the more satisfying it was. Or maybe he just liked tempting fate. But no matter how grim the fight, Ange was still gone.
    “Back to town,” Rosa said, her voice low. “Five more minutes and then sound the all-clear.”
    Chris had committed their names to memory—Hector and Manuel. They strode back to town with Rosa’s purpose giving authority to their steps.
    “You said you’re a doctor.” She lifted her chin. “You serious?”
    “Yeah,” he said, still wiping his palms along his jeans. His voice was far steadier than it should have been, considering what he’d just done. “I’m not an M.D., but I have a Ph.D. in research zoology. In this day and age, that’s the best most people have. And when it comes to skinwalkers, knowing a little something about animals is a plus. I’ve treated patients all over the West.”
    “Did they run you out of the territory for malpractice?”
    “No.” His throat felt like he’d swallowed a shattered bottle. “I just never stayed.”
    Gory memories crept into view. He’d been fascinated with Ange’s red-gold hair. Strands wet with blood had stuck to her forehead just as she died. Later, after all the fighting had concluded, he’d made himself take a hard look at what remained of her body. They’d stripped her, made her into a shredded, lifeless thing. He would remember that moment always.
    Guilt gathered in his muscles like lactic acid following a hard run.
    “You didn’t seem much like a doctor just now,” Rosa said.
    “Did you want me to say a little prayer first?”
    “Why?”
    Chris scrutinized the woman. The lines on either side of her nose were deeper, pulled taut. The strain of living on the defensive was taking its toll on their leader. She’d gouge his eyes out with her thumbs