Somewhere in the trees, a series of pops went off. It was louder than a string of firecrackers, and I tightened my grip on the neck of the cold bottle. I’d heard gunshots around here before, but only during hunting season and never so close. Somebody on my property had a gun. I took a fortifying swig of my beer and walked to the window.
If I’d been smart and restrengthened the wards earlier in the week, shifters wouldn’t have been able to get onto my land, let alone this close to my cabin, but there they were. Several of the shifters I’d been avoiding all year ran across the clearing and over my rock driveway, chased closely by a dozen idiot humans with guns firing wildly. How they didn’t accidentally hit each other in that hail of bullets was a damned miracle.
Motherfucker. Here was the excuse to kill me the Immortals had been looking for. Someone had broken the Silence. Every one of those humans was going to die as soon as the Immortals got involved.
My ward against vamps flickered and tugged in the pit of my stomach as someone a quarter of a mile away tried to cross onto my land, but that particular net of magic held fast. At least something was going right tonight.
The shifters came my way. Three coyotes and a naked man sprinted hell for leather across my little grassy patch of yard and straight toward my garden.
I had no desire to get in the middle of this—especially if Silence had been broken—but I knew I had to act. There was something about the man on the wrong end of the guns that drew me to him and forced me to take action.
It helped that he was pretty fucking hot, even covered in dirt and blood.
Therefore, I would have to go outside and face twelve angry men with guns. At least my witchy magic could deal with a few stray bullets, even with my low energy. I tried not to think about how I would have to deal with the coyote pack after rescuing some of their own. Not even the fact that the furry bastards would now owe me a favor if they did, indeed, survive made me a happy camper. The pack would know where I lived now. I was going to have to move.
If the Immortals didn’t just firebomb us all to hell first.
Another barrage of shots sounded. Two of the coyotes went crashing to the ground. The naked man, already shot and bleeding, pushed himself in front of the remaining coyote with his arms outspread. The humans pulled their triggers, and I hurled my magic toward their targets. A couple bullets made it before I got my barrier around the human and his fuzzy friend. I winced as he fell onto the pile of gray fur. Shit. If I wanted to keep anybody alive, I had to move.
I picked up my beer bottle and pushed the cabin’s heavy oak door open.