Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “You talk too much,” I said, splat gun lifting, and Parker jumped. Right at me.

            Braced against the counter, I fired, getting three shots off before I had to block her swing. Every. Single. Shot. Missed.

            “Hey!” I yelped as the thump of impact shook me. Arm smarting, I ducked, jerking away from her elbow and slipping on spilled coffee to go down right under her.

            Sitting where I was, I spun to knock her feet out from her. I had an instant of thought that my gun was gone . . . and then she landed on me, elbow in the gut.

            My breath exploded from me in an oof, but she’d missed my ribs, and I rolled to my hands and knees, struggling to breathe. The surrounding Weres hung back, treating it as an alpha challenge, jeering and making bets on how long I’d last.

            “Incoming!” Jenks shouted, and I clenched my gut, still not having found my breath.

            Parker’s foot struck me, lifting me from the floor. I grabbed it even as the pain made my eyes water. Still holding her, I rolled. Either she’d go down or I’d break it.

            She went down, landing on me and trying to spin me into a choke hold.

            It was one move too far, and, grabbing the woman’s face, I stared into her half-mad delirium and dumped a load of ley line energy into her. Elated, I felt the line course through me. You brought a knife to a gunfight, babe, I thought smugly—and then my hold on the ley line sort of hiccuped and died.

            Son of a moss wipe! I thought in panic as I scrambled for the ley line. The amulet about her neck was glowing. It had to be an NMZ amulet. I’d brought a gun with no bullets. Crap on toast, where did she get a no-magic-zone amulet? But it was obvious. The mage.

            Howling in success, Parker slammed her head into mine.

            What the hell? Reeling, I pushed away and into a stand.

            “Get her!” Jenks shrilled, but I was struggling to stay upright as I leaned against a table.

            Laughing, the woman stood before me, confident and sure. That amulet about her neck was pulsating. Yep. It was an NMZ. I was up a creek.

            I put a hand out, asking for a moment as I caught my breath and reassessed. The chairs and tables had been pushed to the outskirts. Alphas cheered and shouted, urging us on. My hair was a snarled mess, and Mark stood behind the counter with the girls, all three of them terrified that I was going to lose.

            I wasn’t going to lose. I was a freaking demon.

            “Rache,” Jenks said, his sword pulled. “Do something. She’s Wereing.”

            “She’s what?” I blurted, then went pale as I saw Parker curled into a pained ball, silver hair grotesquely sprouting on her elongating face. Her legs went thin, and her center thickened. Not only was she Wereing, she was almost done.

            “You can’t fight a wolf without magic,” Jenks said again, hovering at my ear as if he was a personal trainer. “And you won’t survive a mauling. You got a Wereing curse. Use it!”

            I risked a glance behind me at the girls, scared as they watched. Parker was getting to her feet as a wolf, a ripple shifting her coat as she settled into her new skin. That gouge on her eye was worse. If she stayed a wolf, she was going to lose it. Seeing me watching her, Parker lifted her lip in a soft threat of a growl.

            “Do something, Rache,” Jenks begged, and I held up a hand for her to wait. My abilities were there, but the closer she got with that amulet, the less sure they were.

            “Mark?” I wedged off my shoes, my gaze fixed on Parker. “Call Trent if I lose.”

            “Okay,” he warbled.

            “Jenks, I need three seconds.”

            “You got four,” he said, then flew at her.

            Every strand of me wanted to watch Jenks, but I backed out of the reach of that NMZ amulet and felt for the ley line, sinking deep into myself as I heard her jaw snap and the pixy laugh, taunting her. Lupis, I thought fiercely, pulling the curse into me with a savage quickness. Pain was a bright lance, and I fell, gut wrenching as I coughed. The sound exploded from me, and when I tried to push the pain away, I no longer had hands. Red, silky fur softer than silk brushed my sensitive nose.