Resurrecting Ravana Read Free Page B

feel the stomping rush of the four other hellhounds hurrying toward her from inside the cabin, while loud rock music continued to rumble.
    She had the second stake in the crossbow before she had turned all the way around, but she never had a chance to fire it. The hellhound in the tattered, bloody tank top rose up out of the darkness less than two feet in front of her. With a flick of his black, furry hand, he knocked the crossbow from Buffy’s grip and sent it tumbling into the night.
    Buffy’s hand was already beneath her jacket, reaching for another stake — she had her fingers wrapped around it — when the snarling creature slapped a hand on her shoulder and another on her hip and closed his grip. She felt his claws pierce her clothing as he lifted her off the ground. With no apparent effort, the hellhound turned and threw Buffy away from the house. The cold night air hissed past her ears and her hair blew in her face as she flew through the air, the hellhound in furious pursuit.
    Buffy slammed into the trunk of a tree. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.
    From the time the front door of the cabin opened, only seconds had passed.
    As Buffy flew from the porch, Xander and Giles hopped over the railing and moved in from each side. They stopped beside the open door, stakes raised, listening to the snarls rushing toward them.
    As if expecting them, the next hellhound out the door swung his arms open wide, knocking Xander and Giles in opposite directions.
    By that time, Willow had climbed onto the railing at her end of the porch. She dove off the railing and over Giles, who had been knocked on his back, and onto the hellhound. Unprepared for the attack, the creature fell. Willow wasted no time.
    She buried the stake in the hellhound’s neck.
    The creature immediately began to convulse and released a painful shriek that echoed through the woods around them. The hellhound’s thrashing became so forceful, Willow was thrown down onto the porch. The creature stiffened after a moment and its back arched. It made a horrible gurgling sound in its throat as its dark, fanged muzzle began to shrink rapidly. Willow backed away on all fours, disgusted by the thick, wet sound of bones moving against bones, of muscle tissue shrinking, dissolving.
    The body fell limp suddenly and released a harsh death rattle. It looked like nothing more than a vicious dog now. A dead one. His eyes were open and stared glassily up at the yellow porch light.
    Willow released an explosive breath as she reached forward and pulled the stake from his neck.
    While Willow had been diving for the unsuspecting hellhound, Xander and Giles had been getting to their feet. By then, three more hellhounds had rushed by them and off the porch. They were somewhere in the darkness, beyond the dull pool of yellow light cast by the bulb over the door.
    “Where’s Buffy?” Xander whispered.
    “I-I-I don’t . . . I don’t know,” Giles stammered.
    In spite of the chilly air, perspiration glistened on their faces, and their hearts were trip-hammering in their chests.
    Giles turned to see Willow backing away from the convulsing body on the porch.
    Once she’d pulled the stake from the hellhound’s neck, Giles leaned down, gripped her elbow, and helped her to her feet.
    “Hey, somebody help me!” Cordelia cried. “I’m stuck!”
    Xander, Giles, and Willow turned to the other end of the porch, where Cordelia was trying to climb over the railing. She had one leg over, stake in hand, but her khakis had gotten stuck on the end of a shard of splintered wood.
    Xander rushed toward her.
    A clawed, furry hand slapped the top of her head, closed on her hair, and jerked her off the railing. With a scream, Cordelia was swallowed by the darkness.
    “Cordy!” Xander shouted.
    She didn’t hear him. The hellhound’s snout was next to her ear and its hot, snarling breath, smelling coppery of blood, drowned out all other sounds. It still held her by the hair, pulling