The creature reaches him first.
Jaws slam into Quinn's shoulder just as his arm drives forward.
For an instant the two impacts meet in the same space—teeth tearing into muscle while iron plunges into the creature's chest. The blade sinks deep beneath its ribs, resistance giving way with a wet, grinding slide.
The creature shrieks.
The sound is jagged, tearing through the room like metal being ripped apart. Quinn feels it in his skull as the sword drives deeper.
Hot fluid bursts across his hand as the creature jerks away, failing to retreat before attempting again.
Its jaws release off of his shoulder, tearing flesh as it wrenches away but not taking a chunk like it would have. Quinn staggers forward with the sudden loss of weight, the swords grip nearly slips from his grasp as the creature continues to back away with a slight limp and stagger.
The sound of blood pouring out of both him and creature is loud, almost as loud as the screech was but Quinn's grip on the sword tightens as the pain arrives all at one, new wounds combing with old.
His shoulder burns where the teeth tore through it. His stomach screams where the claws opened him. His leg trembles beneath him, barely willing to hold his weight and yet he remains conscious.
Too much.
This is way too much for one day.
Quinn sways and almost drops before using the sword to catch himself while panting heavily.
The creature continues to stagger and drag itself backward across the floor, claws scratching long grooves through the blood-slick wood as it regains its balance. Dark fluid continues to pour down its chest from the wound the blade left behind.
Quinn finally notices it, but the creature has yet to take its eyes off of him, its stare unblinking and unyielding without a single thought of retreat.
I still can't win this.
His fingers twitch uselessly at his side as his hand warms once again with fresh blood.
His vision pulses again, black creeping inward at the edges. Each breath harder to take then the last.
Across the room the creature lowers.
Its shoulders compress, spine bending as muscles tighten beneath its skin. Blood threads slowly from the splits along its jaw.
It prepares to spring.
I'm going to die.
Close by the window breathes cold air into the room and rain taps against the remains off the desk he had sat at before.
The tree stands close outside the window, its branches almost reaching past the open frame and to him like a saving grace.
That's the only way, otherwise I am dead.
The creature lunges.
Quinn moves at the same instant.
His body protests violently as he forces it forward. His wounded leg drags behind him, but momentum carries him through the wreckage of the study—over toppled shelves, across blood and scattered pages.
The creature hits the space he stood, its claws rip through the air before it stops itself, its claws digging into the ground as it redirects.
Keep moving.
He rushes towards the sill, staggering and almost slipping before he plants his foot to jump, using him momentum and what little strength he has left to leap, yet his foot slips out under him on a blood-soaked page. He is just barely able to keep his head from slamming into the windowsill as he makes contact with the wall.
The wind is knocked out of him, and pain detonates through his injured leg along with his abdomen as he tries regaining his lost breath and stand, his eyes flick behind him, the creature is almost on top of him. Quinn barely having any air in his lungs plants his hand onto the sill and launches himself out.
Falling to my death is better than being mauled.
Rain explodes across his body; it immediately starts cooling him off and mixing with his blood, he looks down and sees the ground, causing him to feel a strange bliss for a moment before he hits a branch hard, making his wounds worse and sending the sword flying as he continues to descend.
The ground waits patiently below as he continues to descend through the branches.
Grab something, try to stop yourself and slow the fall.
Quinn throws an arm out and his hand catches bark.
The impact nearly rips his shoulder apart. The branch shudders under his weight as he swings violently against it, barely managing to cling on as his wounded leg scrapes uselessly through the leaves.
Hold on.
His grip slips.
His boot and foot scrape bark as he fights to hook his arm over the branch.
Above him—
The window explodes outward.
Wood splinters as the creature forces its body through the frame, claws digging into the sill as it drags itself outside.
A gunshot cracks through the rain.
The sound splits the night.
The creature jerks violently as the round slams into its side, the impact throwing its body sideways against the wall before it crashes down into the branches below Quinn.
Quinn barely registers the man standing beneath the tree.
A revolver steadies in his hand, smoke curling from the barrel.
"What the hell—"
His voice cuts off as he looks up with a bewildered look.
Behind him another figure steps forward.
Another man with a rapier moves from behind the gunman with quiet precision, steel sliding free in one smooth motion. The blade catches the faint light of the moon as he advances.
The creature recovers quickly; it launches down from the branches toward them.
The rapier flashes as the man steps into the attack.
The thin blade drives forward with frightening accuracy, forcing the creature to twist away as it lands. Each thrust pushes it back another step from the gunman and the wounded man in the tree.
"Quickly," the rapier wielder says calmly.
The third figure doesn't answer.
He is already moving.
The bare-handed man explodes forward, using the tree trunk as a foot hold as he launches himself at the creature.
The tree shakes and the creature shrieks as it is connected with.
Quinn holds tightly on to a branch as the tree shakes.
The creature shrieks again as the rapier drives it backward toward the wall, steel flickering through the rain in sharp, precise strikes before the bare-handed man takes over, beating the creature to a pulp, each impact sounding like explosions.
Quinn's vision swims.
Everything feels distant as his sense are slowly overwhelmed.
Blood continues dripping from his fingers onto the branch beneath him.
Not alone.
His grip loosens slightly.
The world tilts.
Darkness creeps inward again as the fight continues below him.
And Quinn can no longer hold his eyes open.