This time he couldn’t help that urge to want to puke.
Ronnie dropped whatever he was holding and turned, yaking into the nearest trash receptacle. He kept himself quiet, and there wasn’t much to heave up but he felt a little better afterward. And thank God his hair was tied back. Finished, he wiped his mouth with a sleeve of his sweatshirt, knelt to grab up the tools he’d dropped, and though pale he seemed better composed.
And then he saw the thing trying to hurt Celeste. Steeling himself, Ronnie moved quick and swung the cleaver at the abomination, smacking it hard in the back of the neck and slicing through it. He left the cleaver there, not wanting to even try to wiggle the thing out, stabbing the creature with the chair leg. “Celeste, go.”