The boy opened his mouth again, wider. He uttered another growl that quickly became a howl. The unmistakable howl of a Bigfoot. He grew broader in the shoulder and taller in height. Even in his semi-transformed condition, and despite his initial thinness, he easily topped her by a good two feet, and nearly a hundred pounds in mass. He was quickly becoming a major threat, and Davida started to doubt whether or not she could take him on by herself.

          She readied herself in case he tried to charge her. He knew he was trapped. In his primitive mind, he was reverting to his Breacher form, his inherent, natural form, to protect and defend himself.

          “You don’t have to worry,” she tried to assure him as she prepared to convert in case things went sideways. She might not be able to match him strength for strength, but her quickness would prevent him from laying a hand on her. “You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you. Listen to me. Listen to my voice. I’ll protect you. You have nothing to worry—”

          The young man screamed as he launched himself at her. Instinctively, Davida threw her arms up to stop him and keep him from escaping. There was a ripping sound as her wings shredded the back of her blouse, when the dual sound of something rat-a-tat-tatting came from behind her. The kid shrieked in pain as the barbs struck him in the chest, but his momentum carried his writhing body toward her. Davida tried to evade him but there wasn’t enough time or space inside the tiny room. The young man collided with her, knocking her onto the floor.

          Heavy claws came down over her head as he tried to retaliate, believing her to be the cause of his agony. His shrieks of pain and anger were a torch to her already burning migraine. She tried to roll out from underneath his suffocating weight when a gunshot nearly deafened her. The Breacher jerked upon impact, then stilled. His last breath exited in a soft groan.

          Struggling to sit up, Davida gulped for air as she gazed down at the pallid, semi-human face. His eyes were closed. His body lay limp across the lower part of her body.

          “No!”

          She felt something warm trickle over her legs. The scent of blood wrapped around her brain like a fog of death. Almost paralyzed by the sudden tragedy, Davida reached down and clutched the shoulders of the lifeless body lying atop of her. She shook him, but she already knew it was futile. “No! Nooo!”

          As sobs began to wrack her body, she faintly heard Clay’s angry voice demand an answer from the captain. “Why, damn it? Why did you shoot? He wasn’t a danger to her! Why the fuck did you have to kill him?”

          If Jefferson had a response, she didn’t hear it. Her head was thundering, temporarily muting everyone and everything around her.

          She had no knowledge of the officers rolling the Breacher off her, nor of Clay smoothing her wings down her back before picking her up in his arms to carry her downstairs, out of the duplex, and away from the scene.

Once he closed the car door, she succumbed to blessed silence and didn’t awaken until they returned to the hotel.