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The gun barked three times. Two of the bullets flew harmlessly through the open door, but the last one cut a deep crease in Cyrus's shoulder. He lunged headfirst over the sofa, landed on his shoulders and rolled. Halfway through the somersault, his body began to change, and by the time he came to his feet, he no longer resembled anything human. |
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The gunman took one look at the snarling, wolflike creature, then one look at the gun and turned to run. Cyrus grabbed the man's head like he was palming a basketball, twisted, and his neck popped like a dry carrot snapping in two. |
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The other guy was dragging his body across the floor toward the pistol. Cyrus cleared the distance between them and snatched the man up like a G.I. Joe doll. |
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Another time Cyrus might have let him gonot this time. He wasn't in a forgiving mood. There was blood on the man's arm and blood on his facethe very air in the penthouse reeked of blood and that destroyed any chance the man might have had. Cyrus tore a massive chunk of flesh from the side of the gunman's neck with his fangs and then raised him high overhead and heaved him through the open balcony door and over the railing. The man was still screaming when he smashed through the windshield of a two-seater Mercedes, thirty-five stories below. |
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