Exactly one hour later, Delilah stood on the porch watching the three men leave. She wrapped her arms around her waist and shivered. Almost immediately, she felt two warm bodies on each side of her.

“You were supposed to wait in the house until they were gone,” she said, not looking at either man.

“They are gone – enough,” Barrack quipped.

She shook her head and turned back toward the house. “You two are bad,” she retorted.

Delilah stepped into the house when Brogan pulled the screen door open. The two Rottweilers darted past her and up the stairs. She knew exactly where they were going – her bedroom. Thank goodness she had spread a thin blanket across the bed to protect the comforter. She shook her head when she heard the sound of the door closing when one of them – probably Moonshine – hit it too hard, causing it to swing closed. She’d have to remember to go rescue them in a bit.

“Bad in a very good way,” Brogan replied, deepening his voice.

She felt her body react to the tenor of his voice. “I swear you two have a one-track mind!”

“Yes!” they both agreed with a grin.

Shaking her head, she walked down the hall and into the kitchen. She filled the sink with warm, soapy water and began piling the dirty dishes into it. They had turned on the whole house generator while the guys were here so they could use the restrooms and she could have water. She wanted to get everything cleaned up before she turned it back off. She didn’t want to think of what her next fuel bill would be.

“Can you get the rest of the dishes off the table?” she asked.

“Yes,” Brogan replied.

He returned to the dining room and gathered the rest of the dishes while she started washing them. Barrack was rinsing them and placing them on the drainer. They were almost done when Brogan stiffened and turned his head. A moment later, Delilah heard a knock on the door.

She looked at the men and shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. The storm is picking up again; no one should be out,” she said, drying her hands on a dish towel.

She handed the towel to Brogan and walked down the hall to the front door. Peering out, she frowned when she saw two men standing on the front porch. Opening the door, she sighed when she saw one of the men was DeWayne.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“Can… can… we… come… in, Delilah? I’m freezing!” DeWayne asked, his teeth chattering. “Rudy’s… snowmobile broke down. He… and Bubba Joe… have gone to get… to get Bubba’s uncle’s big truck. We couldn’t fit three of us… on it.

Delilah’s eyes went to the other man standing quietly next to DeWayne. Her gaze went to his truck and she saw the logo for the local power company. She couldn’t believe the power company would send someone out in this weather, but then again, she realized that was exactly what they would do.

“Come on in. DeWayne, you can defrost in the sitting room. I’ll turn the fire up,” she said.

She stepped to the side to let DeWayne pass her. She was in the process of turning back to the power guy when a startled squeak escaped her. The man wrapped one arm around her neck and lifted a gun in the other hand. Her eyes widened in horror when she heard the muffled sound of a thud and DeWayne stumbled forward a step before he collapsed, a large red stain spreading from the small, black hole in the back of his jacket.

The cry on her lips died when the man turned the gun to her head. He caught the door with his foot and slammed it shut. Delilah stumbled when he took a step to the side.

“Tell the other man to come out,” the man quietly ordered.

Fear choked Delilah. Her dragon roared, wanting to shift, but she was afraid that any sudden movement would endanger her. The symbiots could heal a lot of wounds, but not a direct shot to the head.

“I don’t…,” she started to say before her voice faded in a strangle gasp when he tightened his arm around her neck.

“I saw him, sweetheart,” the man whispered in her ear. “Don’t make me put a bullet in your pretty body too soon. We can make this as easy or as difficult as you want. Now… call him.”

Delilah nodded. “Barrack…,” she called in a trembling voice. “Barrack… I…,” her voice faded once again when she saw Barrack step into the hallway.

Remain calm, little fighter. This human thinks there is just one of us. Brogan is moving into a better position. We will not allow him to hurt you, Barrack reassured her.

Delilah heard the generator stutter and cut off. The light in the hallway went out. It was still light outside, but growing dimmer thanks to the storm. She could see Barrack’s glare move to the man holding her.

DeWayne needs help. He isn’t dead. I can hear his heart beating, but he is hurt really bad, Delilah said.

She looked down to where DeWayne lay on the floor partially in the front foyer and partially in the sitting room. Biting her lip, she focused on one of the symbiot bracelets on her wrists. It resisted her instructions at first. The creature didn’t want to leave her and didn’t want to touch DeWayne.

Please… Please help him… for me, she begged.

It took several pleas before the symbiot bracelet dissolved, flowed under her clothing and pooled on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see it slip inside DeWayne’s clothing. Warmth from the other bracelet filled her and she looked up to see Barrack watching her. He knew what she had done.

Where are the other symbiots? she asked.

They have arrived, he replied.

“What do you want? I mean, if you came here to rob me, you made a huge mistake. I’m just a librarian. We don’t make a lot of money. I also don’t have much of value here except some of the antiques, and I don’t see you carting those away in this weather,” Delilah said.

She knew she was babbling, but she hoped that if she could distract the man, Brogan and the symbiots would have the time they needed to rescue her.

“Shut up,” the man said.

Delilah frowned. That was not the reaction she was expecting. Her lips pressed together when he nodded his head at Barrack.

“Get down on the floor, hands out. One false move and I put a bullet in her brain,” the man stated.

Barrack’s mouth tightened into a straight line before he slowly lowered himself to his knees and slid forward so that he was lying on his stomach. Her heart hammered in her chest. The man tightened his hold around her neck before dropping his arm and firing two shots directly into the center of Barrack’s back – there was no warning, no threats, nothing but the two consecutive shots.

Delilah screamed and began fighting. Horror and pain shot through her. Her dragon howled with anguish and rage. She frantically tried to remove the symbiot on her wrist so she could give it to Barrack.

Harsh sobs choked her more than the arm threatening to cut off her oxygen. She didn’t care. Her only concern was to help Barrack.

“No!! No! Let me go. How could you? Why?” she sobbed.

He shot Barrack. Oh, God! Please, Brogan. He shot Barrack in the back, she cried, out of her mind in grief.

She fell to her knees when the man suddenly released her with a thrust between her shoulder blades. Scrambling on all fours, she bent over Barrack’s still body. The symbiot on her wrist melted and disappeared into the two holes. Afraid the man would attack again before the symbiot could heal Barrack, Delilah draped herself over his body to shield him. Turning her head toward the man, she looked up at him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Why? Who are you? What do you want?” she whispered in a barely audible voice.

The man shrugged. “You should have signed the papers when you were asked to do so, Ms. Rosewater,” he replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thick bundle of papers. He tossed the bundle on the floor next to her along with a black pen. “Sign the paper where it is highlighted.”

Delilah stared at the bundle of white papers in confusion. Her eyes moved to where DeWayne was lying flat on the floor. Had DeWayne been a part of this?

“DeWayne…,” she began to say in an uneven voice.

“Mr. Davis is nothing more than a small town attorney who failed to deliver. Now, sign the papers,” the man instructed.

Delilah shook her head. “What good would it do? I’d contest anything that was signed under duress.”

“Oh, there won’t be any contesting. Now, sign the papers or I’ll start putting bullets in you,” the man warned.

Delilah’s hands shook as she picked up the bundle of papers and unfolded it. A quick skim of the pages told her everything she needed to know. That bastard, Olie Ray Lister, was behind this. Fury ignited within her. Her fingers curled around the papers and she looked up at the man with eyes that held the flames of her dragon in them.

“What the fuck?!” the man hissed.

A creak on the stairs and a menacing snarl filled the air. The man looked up at the stairs and fired several shots, his eyes panicked and disbelieving. The shots hit Barrack’s symbiot, Whiskey, but the golden creature merely opened its mouth and coughed up the bullets. The man stumbled to the front door.

“What is that thing?” he hissed.

Delilah watched his gaze moved to her as she stood up. She knew that Brogan was on the other side of the door waiting for the man. Brogan’s symbiot, Gin, stepped out from the sitting room to stand between her and the man at the door.

“Your shit-out-of-luck card,” she informed him as her features began to partially shift into her dragon. “Whiskey, heal Barrack.”

* * *

“What are you?” Earl choked out in shock when Delilah Rosewater’s face began to transform.

He watched as swirls of what looked like scales began to appear along both of her cheeks and down her neck. Her hazel eyes had a strange flame in them and her pupils looked elongated. The gold creature on the stairs lost its form and passed through the spindles of the railing, then flowed over the man he had shot in the back.

He swallowed when another golden creature in the shape of a huge cat stepped out of the sitting room and snarled at him. Twelve inches or longer fangs caught the dwindling light from outside. He turned his gun on the creature and emptied the last few rounds into the monster before reaching under his coat and pulling out another gun.

This one he aimed at Delilah. He started to empty his gun into her, but the fanged creature rose up and absorbed the bullets before they reached her. Twisting the doorknob, he yanked open the door and turned to flee. He made it as far as the third step before he looked at where his burning truck was parked.

He started to turn and retrace his steps, but froze when the gold creature walked out of the door. Stumbling on the steps, he lost his balance and fell heavily to the ground. He rolled onto his stomach and started to push up when dread washed through him. Looking up, he stared into the flaming eyes of death.

His lips opened in a scream that never came. Instead, an eerie blue flame surrounded him. In the briefest fraction of a second, his brain registered the fact that his outstretched arm with the pistol in it was disintegrating before his eyes. All other thought was gone as nothing but the fine ash of his remains blew across the snow-covered ground, mingling with new-fallen snow from the sky.