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was the whole question of his mental capacity. To what extent was Samuel responsible for his actions, and to what extent did it matter if he was responsible or not?
    I didn’t think there was any spark of Samuel still in there, but even half human, his constitution had been formidable. His blood would have been highly oxygenated from so much superhuman effort too, and I had soaked him in liquid nitrogen. Sometimes intense cold will keep even normal bodies on the verge of life for a much longer time than seemingly possible. And you never really know a monster is dead until you cut off its head. If the prime rule of real estate is location, location, location, the prime rule of monster hunting is decapitation, decapitation, decapitation.
    Did I want Samuel to revive? I had a sudden mental snapshot of me and Samuel at Disney World; he was wearing a Donald Duck tee while he ate an ice cream cone and took up nine tenths of a roller coaster cab. I was wearing a set of Mickey Mouse ears, crammed against the other side of the coaster car, gasping. I couldn’t be Samuel’s keeper. It was ridiculous. But I didn’t want to be his executioner either. And I couldn’t leave him alive. What did that leave?
    I sighed a very deep sigh and stood up to get one of the jerry jugs of water in the back of the pickup truck when I heard a rustle. It wasn’t necessarily anything. Fires settle and collapse on themselves. There was no need to look back.
    I looked back.
    Samuel’s leg kicked again.
     

Meet the Author
    An army brat and gypsy scholar, ELLIOTT JAMES is currently living in the Blue Ridge Mountains of southwest Virginia. An avid reader since the age of three (or that’s what his family swears, anyhow), he has an abiding interest in mythology, martial arts, live music, hiking, and used bookstores. Irrationally convinced that cell phone technology was inserted into human culture by aliens who want to turn us into easily tracked herd beasts, Elliott has one anyhow but keeps it in a locked, tinfoil-covered box which he will sometimes sit and stare at mistrustfully for hours. Okay, that was a lie. Elliott lies a lot; in fact, he decided to become a writer so that he could get paid for it.
     
    Photo Credit: Author

Also by Elliott James
PAX ARCANA
    Charming
    Daring
    Fearless
SHORT FICTION IN THE WORLD OF PAX ARCANA
    Charmed I’m Sure
(e-only)
    Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls
(e-only)
    Pushing Luck
(e-only)
    Surreal Estate
(e-only)
    Bulls Rush In
(e-only)
    Talking Dirty
(e-only)

If you enjoyed
BULLS RUSH IN,
look out for

CHARMING
P AX A RCANA
    by Elliott James
     
    John Charming isn't your average prince…
     
    He comes from a line of Charmings—an illustrious family of dragon slayers, witch finders and killers dating back to before the fall of Rome. Trained by a modern-day version of the Knights Templar, monster hunters who have updated their tools from chain mail and crossbows to Kevlar and shotguns, he was one of the best. That is—until he became the abomination the knights were sworn to hunt.
     
    That was a lifetime ago. Now he tends bar under an assumed name in rural Virginia and leads a peaceful, quiet life. One that shouldn't change just because a vampire and a blonde walk into his bar…right?

HOCUS FOCUS
    There’s a reason that we refer to being in love as being enchanted. Think back to the worst relationship you’ve ever been in: the one where your family and friends tried to warn you that the person you were with was cheating on you, or partying a little too much, or a control freak, or secretly gay, or whatever. Remember how you were convinced that no one but you could see the real person beneath that endearingly flawed surface? And then later, after the relationship reached that scorched-earth-policy stage where letters were being burned and photos were being cropped, did you find yourself looking back and being amazed at how obvious the truth had been all along? Did it feel as if you were waking up from some kind of