shoots erlking

Big surprise, magic wasn’t a big threat to the Huntsmen.
Solution: Winchester.
I drew the rifle from the rack on the Harley, thumbed back the hammer while still holding it in one hand, then twisted at the waist to bring it to bear on the rider, the heavy weapon’s forearm falling into my left hand. I didn’t have much time to aim, and it might have actually been counterproductive, given our speed, the irregularities of the chase, the darkness, and the rain. Plus, I’m not exactly Annie Oakley. So I made a best guess and pulled the trigger.
The rifle let out a crack of thunder, and a burst of disintegrated shadow flew up from the shoulder and neck and jawline of the rider. I got a look at the armor beneath the mask, and a portion of his face, and realized with renewed terror that I’d just put a bullet into the Erlking.
And an instant later I realized with a surge of incandescent hope that I’d just put a bullet into the Erlking on Halloween night.


Cold Days Chapter 41, Page 400