Exton

Oh, good. Lovely. Just what I wanted - a decision that could save lives, or lose them.

And it's up to me, the everlasting fuckup, to make it.

Do I go out and help Ob, maybe risking more weres getting in when I open the door, or do I let him die out there?

I look at the shovel. Well, it could be worse - it could be a mop.

I turn to Pandora. "Close this door behind me, and no one - no one - opens it again until Ob or I come back. Understood?" She nods, but there's panic in her eyes. I know how she feels - I'm feeling it now. "Look, Pan, you're the den mother for these kids. It's up to you to keep them alive. This is what Ob wanted. It's what I want. You keep them safe, you hear me?" She nods wordlessly. I tip a wink at Patti. "Be back soon, beautiful."

I unbar the door and step out into the hall, and none too soon. Ob's about to run out of hall, and the red-eyed thing behind him isn't giving an inch. I grin and yell, "Hey, asshole!"

He turns and the shovel catches him square in the face. I can feel his nose go. "You looked."

He roars a challenge and I answer it with another shovel to the face. This one makes a gash over his eye. He answers with a rip into my stomach.

Fuck. I hate it when that happens.

Narrow hallway. Not the best venue for swinging a shovel. How did I get into this again?

I go for his knee and it cracks like fine china. He howls and I catch his face with the flat of the blade. He spits out teeth and tears into my chest, a long deep gash that exposes ribs.

Okay, now I'm pissed. I reverse the shovel and catch him in the stomach with it - once, twice, three times. With each blow he staggers back a step and then I bring the handle up between his legs, hard.

He whimpers like a kicked puppy and I do it again. This time he's speechless, his mouth opening, but no sound emerging. And just then, a sword blade erupts from the middle of his chest. He slips forward and Ob steps over the corpse, grinning. He wipes his blade on the ruin of my shirt.

"Took you long enough."

"You make a fine distraction, Jack."

"And thank you, Mr. Thanks-so-much-for-saving-my-butt." Ob heads back upstairs and I follow. What the hell? The shirt's ruined anyway. Who wants to live forever?