This excerpt is from Too Wyrd, published in 2016 by Black Rose Writing. You can order book 2 of the Runespells series, Fluffy Bunny, published in 2017.
My lungs started burning and my muscles were getting that not-quite-there, mushy feeling. I was headed a little bit right, overall, so the next corner I went left. Apparently, the cop's sacrifice had slowed the monsters down quite a bit. The sound of their chase was much farther back now.
I ran past a dead-end alley before it clicked. I stopped dead and ducked into the passage, stumbling as the smell of rot and piss hit my nose. There was a dumpster sitting a little askewed at the end of the alley and I slipped behind it and squatted down, huddling in the shadows. I hoped that the dark, smelly surroundings would throw off the creatures.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on slowing my breathing. I ignored the drip-drip to the left of me and the distinctly moldy scent teasing my nose with a sneeze. It was just like meditation; in - mind goes blank, out - I'm not here. Over and over; in - mind goes blank, out - I'm not here. Mind blank, not here. Mind blank, not here. Mind blank, not here
I felt my consciousness go to the other, the place of visions and mindfulness. My awareness slipped into that place of there/not-there, where I could hear and see and smell, but as if watching a movie. It wasn't me present in that stinky darkness; my knowing was completely objective. My breathing slowly moved from the panting gasps of an out-of-shape runner to the deep, controlled breaths of one just this side of asleep
I heard the creatures approach the alley with scraping claws and wet, snuffling growls. They went past the mouth of the alley, and a sliver of relief pierced my objectivity. I heard the noises stop just past the alley and my heart tripped over itself. The light pad-click of clawed feet came closer. I could hear the sniffing of the creatures searching for me
I clung to my detached state, willing the darkness around me to cover me like a cloak. Not here, not here, not here, my mind cycled through the mantra, projecting the image of my physical form becoming just another shadow behind the trash bin
The padding footsteps stopped in front of me. My eyes opened, slowly. I kept my mind distant, and my feeling was of curiosity and the small anxiety one feels for a beloved fictional character in trouble. I could see a sliver of the creatures, mostly still hidden by the dumpster. Their oddly colored skin of gray and blue and purple faded into the shadows of the alley. Their eyes glinted red and yellow when they caught the faint light. Their teeth stuck out prominently, shining with spit and the deep red of blood
They were tall, nearly 8 foot, I would guess. And the first thing that came to mind when searching for a label for the creatures was... demon. These were creatures of fire and torture, taken from the imaginings of hundreds of Christian painters and writers.