Magic Breaks

12

I STOOD ON the balcony of the main building, watching the last of the stragglers come in. They glanced at me as they arrived. I was wearing Evdokia’s sweater and doing my best to broadcast confidence. It was ten eighteen. There was no sign of the People yet, but Jim’s scouts reported a large number of vampires moving out of the city in the Keep’s direction. The scouts estimated at least seventy. Navigators had a limited range, which meant that the People’s Masters of the Dead and their journeymen had to be traveling with the undead.

This was an extremely unwise move. Somewhere en route, Ghastek was gritting his teeth. Keeping that many undead together in one place required iron control on the part of the navigators. There was a reason why the vampires spent most of their time under the Casino confined in steel cages and chained to the walls. Even a single loose bloodsucker was a disaster.

If I were ruthless, I’d take our renders, clear a path through the undead, and let my guys wipe out the People. Once the navigators were dead, the unchained vampires would swarm us. I wasn’t sure how many I could handle, but I was willing to bet I could control enough to push them off us and into the wilderness. They would make their way to the city and slaughter anything that breathed. By morning Atlanta would be the city of the dead. The blame would fall on the People and we would live happily ever after, at least until my father decided to engage in revenge for the shit storm this butchery would dump on his head.

Fortunately for Atlanta, I wasn’t Hugh d’Ambray. Atlanta wouldn’t die today if I could help it. Once the first vampire was sighted, the gates would be barred. I would do everything in my power to reason with the navigators, but if I failed, we would not attack. Curran had built this Keep to withstand a siege. If that was the way they wanted it, so be it. A line from my favorite book came to mind. Have fun storming the castle, Hugh.

A woman in faded jeans and a heavy jacket strode through the Gates. A hood hid her hair. She marched through the snow like she meant business: big steps, a determined set to her shoulders, and a straight spine. A tall man wearing a black robe walked next to her, carrying a staff on his shoulder. The top of the staff was carved into the semblance of a raven’s head with a vicious beak. I knew that staff. It had tried to bite me once. But then considering that its owner was a black volhv in service to an ancient Slavic god of dark and evil, ornery behavior was to be expected. I had it on very good authority that Roman also wore Eeyore pajamas, which made me reevaluate his character somewhat.

Roman was also Evdokia’s son, which meant the woman with him was likely a witch. My neutral witnesses had arrived.

The woman said something to Roman. He stopped, turned to her, and shook his staff.

She crossed her arms. I couldn’t see her face, but I read the body language well enough. “I shake my magic stick at you!” “Let me tell you what you can do with your stick . . .”

One of the shapeshifters, a muscular man in his forties, moved to block Roman’s path. Roman pointed at me. The man turned to look at me, and I waved them in. The shapeshifter stepped aside to let Roman and the woman pass.

“Jennifer would like to speak with you,” Barabas said.

I turned.

Barabas stood in the doorway of the room behind me. He hadn’t slept for the last twenty-four hours, but it barely showed. His face seemed sharper than usual, and his hair had lost some of its spikiness, but other than that he was no worse for wear.

I crossed the balcony back into the room. “Have you been able to get Detective Gray on the phone?”

He shook his head. “We’re still trying.”

Among our contacts in the PAD, Gray was the most sympathetic to the shapeshifters. Normally he always answered the phone, but today he was proving to be elusive. I hoped it was a coincidence. If he was deliberately ducking me, I was in big trouble.

“What does Jennifer want?”

“She didn’t specify. Would you like me to tell her you’re busy?”

“No.” Might as well get this over with.

He nodded and opened the door. “The Consort will see you.”

Jennifer walked in. She looked haggard. Her sweatpants hung on her and she carried a water bottle in her hand. Judging by her eyes, there was probably something stronger than water in it. If my body processed alcohol as fast as hers, I would’ve found me one of those water bottles as well.

Jennifer’s blond bodyguard, Brandon, the one who’d mouthed off to me on the bridge, tried to follow her. Barabas blocked his way. Brandon backpedaled. Barabas followed him out and shut the door behind him.

“What can I do for you?”

Jennifer licked her lips. “I came to talk about Desandra.”

Right. The People and Hugh d’Ambray were practically on our doorstep. Now was the perfect time to bug me about her problems. “You want to have this conversation now?”

“Yes.”

I leaned against the wall. “Okay. What about Desandra?”

She swallowed. “I want you to expel her from the Pack.”

Umm. “On what grounds?”

“She threatens the stability of Clan Wolf.”

“Do you have evidence of this?”

Jennifer bared her teeth. “She’s trying to force me out.”

I sat down on a bench next to the window. “You are not synonymous with Clan Wolf. She isn’t threatening the clan. She’s threatening your leadership of it.”

“A change of leadership right now will destabilize the clan. We’re still grieving over Daniel.”

Daniel had been dead for over six months now. She was still grieving and I understood that. But the clan had moved on.

“You’re asking me to interfere with the selection of the alpha for an individual clan. I have no authority to do that. Not only would the other clans scream bloody murder, but even if I could somehow influence the process, I won’t. It’s not my place to tell your people whom they should support and choose to govern themselves.”

“They support me.”

“Then why are you here?”

She struggled with it for a second. “I am the alpha. She is . . .” Jennifer squeezed her hand into a fist. “She’s vulgar. One of her sons is a monster.”

Desandra was right. Jennifer had no intention of letting a baby lamassu grow up in her clan. If I were Desandra, wild horses wouldn’t be able to drag me away from fighting Jennifer for the alpha spot.

“Desandra’s child is an infant and a member of the Pack.”

Jennifer kept going. “What happens when he grows up?”

“We’ll burn that bridge after we cross it.”

“I won’t let her push me out. It’s my place. I’m doing it for my child. For Daniel’s child. She’ll grow up to be the daughter of an alpha.”

She had that half-desperate, half-determined look in her eyes. Right. No intelligent life there. “Why is it so important to be alpha? Why not just step down?”

“Because it’s where I belong. Daniel chose me. He chose me out of all the other women in the Pack so I could stand by his side. Daniel didn’t make mistakes. He died, and now I have to lead the Pack in his memory, because otherwise he would’ve died for nothing.”

Oh dear God, she had deified her husband. Shapeshifters were already paranoid, but Jennifer’s grief combined with her pregnancy must’ve catapulted her into a seriously bad place. No matter how many rational arguments I made, she wouldn’t listen, because I couldn’t compete with Daniel’s memory.

“Someone asked Desandra the same question,” I said. “She said, ‘Because I can make the people in the clan safer and happier.’”

Jennifer stared at me, her eyes luminous with green. “You owe me. You killed my sister, my husband died because of the fight you dragged us into, and then you brought Desandra here. If she wins, if you can imagine it for a second, she would tell me what to do. I won’t take orders from that bitch!” Her voice rose. “I won’t! My child won’t call that crude lowlife alpha. You made this mess; you’ll fix it for me or you will regret it.”

Okay, that was just about enough of that. “No.”

Jennifer glared at me, her eyes blazing with green.

“Tone down your flashlights, or I’ll resolve this power struggle right here and right now.”

She drew back. The glow dimmed.

“Let me spell it out for you. I didn’t kill your sister because I felt like it. I killed her because she had turned loup and was in pain. Ending her life was an act of mercy. Daniel didn’t die so you could be an alpha. He died so fanatics wouldn’t detonate a device that would’ve killed every shapeshifter in a ten-mile radius. You’re fighting Desandra for the confidence of your clan and you’re losing. The very fact that you are here now makes you weak. If I helped you, it would only make you look weaker. You have to stand on your own. No bodyguards, no Beast Lord to hide behind, just you.”

She stared at me, her face completely white. I should’ve stopped, but in the past twelve hours I’d run around the frozen city trying to prevent a supernatural war, I’d nearly lost a child who relied on me for protection, and I’d watched Hugh d’Ambray slaughter people and hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about it, and all the while, the man I loved was missing. My brakes had malfunctioned and I kept barreling on, right off the cliff.

“Explain to me why I would help you? For the entire time you’ve known me, you’ve done nothing but throw rocks at my head. Last night I had to go into the People’s territory and I didn’t know if we would survive. I went because the future of the entire Pack depended on it. The alpha rat volunteered to go with me. The alpha cat did, too. A member of your clan couldn’t wait to join me. A child from the boudas followed me because he wanted to make a difference. They did this because they felt responsible for the safety of their friends. They did it to protect the Pack. Did you volunteer to help me?”

My voice snapped like a whip. Jennifer flinched.

“Did you come with me, Jennifer? Did you fight with me? Did you sacrifice yourself to draw off four vampires, so I could get to where I was going? Did you fight a knight with a kind of magic we’ve never seen before? Did you throw yourself at a fucking wendigo while poisoned and puking your guts out to save a boy? No. You sat here, plotted, and felt sorry for yourself. And less than an hour ago, when the Pack Council was trying to decide what to do with Dorie, where the bloody hell were you? You sent Desandra in, because you didn’t want to face the heat.”

Jennifer bared her teeth, drawing back.

“Desandra might be crude and manipulative, but you know what, she shows up. She gets into the mud and blood with the rest of us and gets her hands dirty. None of us like it, but we do it. I won’t help her pull you off your alpha rock, but I won’t stop her either. And after what she did, if she needs me, I’ll be there to back her up, because she watched my back when it counted. You are not special. You don’t get to not show up. You don’t get to avoid difficult decisions. You get to climb into the muck with the rest of us. So, if you want to be in charge, fine. Reach deep down, find a backbone, and handle your own shit. Otherwise, step down and make way for someone who would actually matter.”

Jennifer sat frozen, her face stunned. Her hand squeezed the water bottle.

I waited to see if she would explode.

Someone knocked and the door swung open. Barabas ducked in. “I have Gray on the phone.”

Finally. I turned to Jennifer. “Are we done?”

“I can’t do it,” she said quietly, her voice sad. “I should do it, but I can’t. It’s wrong. It would be like spitting on his memory.”

What was she talking about? How was fighting Desandra spitting on Daniel’s memory? I didn’t understand her at all. “You can step down and be a mother . . .”

She got up and fled out of the room.

• • •

BARABAS SHOWED ME to one of the conference rooms. Jim was already there, leaning against the wall, like a grim shadow, his eyes hard. Uh-oh.

“How did you get him on the phone?” I asked.

“I had two of our people walk into his office and refuse to leave,” Jim said. “He was there all morning.”

Gray had been ducking our calls. That was exactly what I didn’t want to hear. I landed in a chair and pushed the button on speaker.

“Detective Gray.”

“Hello, Kate.”

“You’re a hard man to find.”

“What do you want?” Gray sounded tired.

“I want to surrender a suspect implicated in the murder of Mulradin Grant to your custody.”

Silence.

More silence.

I imagined a hole suddenly manifesting under Gray’s feet and swallowing him whole. The way my day had been going so far, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“We are not aware of any murder,” Gray said.

Aha. “I’m making you aware of it now. Mr. Grant is dead, he was murdered by a shapeshifter, and a member of the Pack has been implicated in this murder. I’m reaching out to you and offering to surrender her to your custody.”

“This is a jurisdictional issue,” Gray said. “The Keep is in DeKalb County.”

Are you kidding me? “The murder was committed in Atlanta’s city limits.”

“The alleged murder.”

Argh. I leaned closer to the phone. “We’ve always strived to maintain good relations with the PAD. Last year alone we’ve assisted you on—”

Jim raised nine fingers.

“—on nine cases. I’m asking you to help us.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry,” Gray said. “I can’t.”

The rage swelled inside me like a wave. My voice shook slightly. “I’m about to have a bloodbath on my hands.”

Gray lowered his voice. “This is coming down from above. We can’t get involved in a war between the Pack and the People. We don’t have the numbers or the firepower. We’d be slaughtered. I’m sorry, but this is between you and them.”

He wouldn’t help us. “You had a chance to make a difference today and you stepped back. Your authority is only good if you do something with it, and you chose to do nothing. Do that enough times and pretty soon nobody will acknowledge it at all. The next time you need my help, don’t call.”

I disconnected the call.

“Diplomatic,” Barabas said.

“Fuck diplomatic.”

The phone rang. I picked it up.

“This is a jurisdictional issue,” Gray said, his voice strained. “We have no jurisdiction over the Keep.”

He hung up.

Okay. “Who has jurisdiction over us?” I asked the room.

“Most of our lands are in DeKalb County,” Barabas said. “A little bit of Clayton, too.”

Neither the DeKalb nor Clayton County sheriff would help us. DeKalb didn’t care for us, and Clayton was severely understaffed.

“And Milton too, along the north edge,” Jim said.

Wait a minute. “Milton?”

He nodded.

The last time I had occasion to travel to Milton, it was because Andrea had gotten upset over some floozy flirting with Raphael, pulled a gun, and nearly drowned her in a hot tub. Beau Clayton, the Milton County sheriff, had personally talked her off the cliff and locked everyone up until I got there.

I punched his number into the phone. “Beau?”

“Kate.” A deep voice tinted with Georgia’s brand of country answered. “Funniest thing happened. One of my deputies just saw what he described as ‘a whole mess of undead’ moving in your general direction. Now, I am curious. Are you having a party?”

“Beau,” I said. “I need your help.”

• • •

I STOOD ON the wall of the Keep. The day was beautiful. The sun lit the turquoise sky, tinting it with a pale veil of gold. Before me a clear snowfield stretched to the jagged dark wall of the forest. Wind stirred a loose strand of my hair.

Behind me the Pack Council waited.

Something moved in the distance at the far-off tree line. A single skeletal shape emerged out of the brush, a dark squiggle against the white snow. The undead paused on all fours. Its magic brushed by me, revolting, like a smear of decomposing flesh on the surface of my mind.

Vampires poured out of the forest, their gaunt, grotesque bodies moving ridiculously fast. So many . . . Behind them four armored cars crept onto the field. Painted in fatigue colors and set on eight wheels, they looked like small tanks. And they were probably chock-full of navigators.

“The People got themselves some Strykers,” Andrea said. “Slat armor, full hull protection. These have a layer of steel, then a layer of ceramic armor against armor-piercing rounds, then more steel and then probably reactive armor tiles. You can fire a rocket launcher at that thing and it won’t even sneeze.”

“How heavy are they?” Martha asked.

“Little over sixteen tons,” Andrea said.

“So around thirty-three thousand pounds,” Robert murmured.

Martha shrugged. “Too heavy to roll.”

Prying Ghastek and his posse out of the Strykers would be a bitch.

The armored fighting vehicles rolled into position and stopped. The vampires formed around them.

Where are you, Curran? In my head I had thought he would somehow magically show up. But he wasn’t here. I was on my own.

I turned to the courtyard and waved at Roman and the witch next to him.

“Is that his sister?” Andrea asked to me.

“No.” I had spoken with both of them. “I’d asked her that. Her name is Alina, she isn’t his sister, and she feels deeply sorry for his sisters, because if she had to put up with being in his presence for longer than a day, she would throw herself off the nearest bridge just to end the agony.”

“Well,” Andrea said. “Glad she cleared that up.”

The dark volhv waved back at me and shouted, “Showtime!”

Alina sighed next to him. “What are you so happy about? We’re going to get killed.”

The two of them started toward the gates.

“It’s exciting,” Roman said. “Look at all of those shapeshifters and vampires. It’s a historic moment and the Pack will owe us.”

“How is it that you have no common sense? Were they all out when you were born?”

Roman indicated his face. “I don’t need common sense. I have a double helping of charm.”

“You mean a double helping of bullshit . . .”

They passed through the gates under us and Derek and two other shapeshifters barred them, lifting the enormous beam in place. The boy wonder, bald and pale, had decided that he’d had enough rest. I didn’t have the energy to fight with him about it.

Roman and the witch stopped about fifty feet from the gate. A single vampire emerged from the undead horde and ran over to them. Roman spoke to it. He would be listing our conditions: we would meet two Masters of the Dead in front of the gates and discuss the murder of Mulradin. Roman and the witch would act as impartial witnesses. And if Hugh got anywhere within fifty feet of that meeting, all negotiations would cease.

The vampire returned. The witch raised her head and spread her arms. A dark green spark pulsed from her and split into a thousand narrow ribbons of green. They shot from her, falling into the snow. Steam rose as the snow melted and the green burrowed into the ground, forming a perfect ring about fifty feet in diameter. Thin green stalks sprouted from the exposed ground and stretched upward, turning into knee-high thorns.

We had our meeting.

• • •

I WALKED OUT into the snowy field next to Jim. The gates of the Keep stood closed behind us. On the wall, Andrea stood with a power crossbow. She’d brought a sniper rifle in case the magic dropped.

The sea of vampires parted and Ghastek walked out, tall, slender, wearing a long military-style white jacket and white pants, strategically broken by small irregular splotches of brown. White boots and a helmet in the same pattern completed the outfit. Apparently he intended to bury himself in the snow and snipe at us from his cover. A woman followed him. She wore an identical uniform and the helmet hid her hair, but I’d know Rowena anywhere. She was in debt to the witches and she had been secretly supplying me with vampire blood. She didn’t know what I did with it, but if she ever found out, her helmet would fly right off her head because her hair would stand on end.

“What the hell are they wearing?” Jim murmured next to me.

“They’re playing soldier. It probably cost them an arm and a leg.”

“Still might,” Jim offered.

Ghastek carefully stepped over the thorns into the circle. Rowena followed him.

The horde of undead rippled again and Hugh rode out. He wore dark leather armor and a long cloak edged with wolf fur. Nice touch. When you’re going to confront a Keep full of people who turn furry, make sure you’re wearing some dead animal’s skin on your cloak. His enormous black horse, a massive Friesian, danced under him, long black mane flying, the black feathers on its legs raising powdery snow. Steam rose from the stallion’s nostrils.

Hugh should’ve brought a banner with I AM BAD stitched on it in gold. The horse, the armor, and the fur weren’t making enough of a statement.

Jim leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Hugh.

“Don’t,” I murmured.

Hugh guided the horse along the thorn border. The Friesian circled us, never crossing over the boundary. Hugh was clearly an “obey the letter of the agreement, not the spirit” kind of guy.

I wanted to pull him off his horse and grind his face into the dirt.

“Have you apprehended the murderer?” Ghastek asked.

“Yes.” I passed him a piece of paper with Double D’s handwritten confession on it. He read it and glanced at Hugh. Hugh was staring at me. Looking is free. Try to come closer and I will cure what ails you and me both.

Ghastek read further. Distaste twisted his face. “That is . . . unfortunate.”

“I think it’s tragic, personally, but we can go with unfortunate, if you want.” My deadline was rapidly approaching. Beau Clayton was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he had hung me out to dry.

Ghastek folded the paper in half and passed it to Rowena. She read it and looked up. A rapid mental calculation was taking place behind Rowena’s eyes. She directed the People’s public relations. This whole thing was a PR nightmare for everyone involved.

“Did you read the part where d’Ambray walked in on her, held a gun to her head, and forced her to kill Mulradin, so he could manufacture this war?”

Ghastek looked like he had bitten into a peach and realized it was rotten. “I am sure she says that he did. I have not read the part where she presents evidence of this wild story. Perhaps there’s a rider or an exhibit I missed?”

That’s okay, I had more. “Why would she lie?”

Hugh kept circling us. A small smile curved his lips. He looked like a man who was enjoying himself. Snow, sunshine, brisk air, a fast horse . . . and impending slaughter. All the things a growing boy needs.

“To prevent this conflict. Perhaps it was a lovers’ quarrel,” Ghastek said. “Perhaps she wanted to rob him. I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care at the moment. Can you prove that she is the killer and not some sacrificial lamb?”

“You’re welcome to run her DNA. It will match what’s on Mulradin.”

“Are you prepared to turn her over to us?”

“No.”

Ghastek leaned forward. “Kate, I hate to resort to threats, but there is a certain responsibility you and I both have to the people we’re leading in this conflict . . .”

To the left of him, three horsemen emerged from under the trees. Beau or not Beau?

“The casualties and financial costs of war will be catastrophic,” Ghastek said. “I understand that you’re counting on the help of whatever navigator you hired, but I assure you, we’re more than capable of neutralizing him or her.”

“What navigator?”

“The one who assisted you last night at the Conclave.”

What was he on about?

Oh.

Apparently I had hidden too well. For all of his intelligence, Ghastek still hadn’t put two and two together. He knew with absolute certainty that I couldn’t pilot vampires. He had seen me not pilot them on numerous occasions. In his mind, I couldn’t possibly do it, so I had to have hired someone else and that someone must’ve grabbed control of the vampires at the Conclave. Right.

“We have a duty to avert this,” Ghastek said.

“You’re right. You should send your undead army home and we’ll discuss this like reasonable people.”

Ghastek sighed. “I’m a reactive party to the bloodshed.”

“Ghastek, you’re an intelligent man. You’re standing here wearing ridiculous fatigues and getting ready to assault a place full of families and children with a horde of vampires. Does this seem right to you?”

Ghastek’s face jerked. “The concepts of right or wrong are inconsequential in this case.”

“The concepts of right or wrong are always consequential. It can’t be situational or it’s not right or wrong.”

“I didn’t come here to debate ethical obligations with you,” Ghastek said.

“You opened the door. I just walked through it.”

“You’re harboring a fugitive. Deliver her to our custody.”

A shout made me turn. A man jumped from the wall of the Keep and sprinted to us. Brandon, Jennifer’s pet wolf. Now what? If he did anything to disrupt this, I’d break his neck.

Brandon dashed across the snow and leaped into the circle. He was clutching something in his hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jim snarled.

Brandon dodged him. He opened his fingers and I caught a flash of what he was holding—Jennifer’s water bottle. He ripped the cap off it and hurled the liquid at me.

I moved, but not fast enough. Cold water splashed my right cheek, soaking my hair. Behind me, Ghastek threw his hands up, and what missed me landed on his fingers. The Master of the Dead stared, bewildered, water dripping from hands. His eyes bulged in angry confusion.

Jim moved. His hand closed on Brandon’s wrist and twisted. Brandon dropped to his knees into the snow, his arm wrenched out of its socket.

The whole world had gone nuts on me. I couldn’t even get angry anymore. I’d run out of rage.

“It’s done,” the blond man squeezed out. “I did it for her.”

What the hell? I would kill Jennifer. I would do it myself and save Desandra the trouble.

Jim twisted his arm, bending him into a pretzel. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He grabbed Brandon by his collar and dragged him out of the circle toward the Keep. The gates opened just enough to let a person pass, and Derek and another shapeshifter shot out. Jim shoved Brandon in their direction, turned around, and came back into the circle.

Ghastek finally regained his ability to speak. “How dare you? Is this an insult?”

“Yes,” I told him. “But to me, not to you. My deepest apologies.”

Hugh chuckled.

Derek and the other shapeshifter muscled Brandon back behind the doors.

Ghastek opened his mouth. No words came out. He was obviously struggling to get himself under control.

“I’m very sorry,” I repeated. Now I was apologizing to the man who was threatening to kill me. Here’s hoping my arteries didn’t explode from the pressure.

“This is outrageous.”

“So is dropping loose vampires into the middle of a Conclave meeting.”

Ghastek clamped his mouth shut.

“We will take the accused now,” Rowena said.

The three riders drew closer. Sheriff hats. It had to be Beau.

“And if we give her to you? What then? A lynching? Maybe you’ll burn her at the stake? Last time I checked we at least pretended we were civilized people.”

Ghastek locked his teeth. He kept a pair of chains used in witch trials on the wall of his office. The reminder of witch burnings had hit home.

“She will be given every opportunity to prove her innocence,” Rowena said.

“Yes, she will,” Jim said. “We’re turning her over to human law enforcement.”

Hugh’s face lost its half-smile. Oh no. Did you find half a worm in the apple you just bit?

“That would be extremely unwise,” Ghastek said.

“Why?”

“For one, it exposes both of our factions to public scrutiny,” Rowena said.

“I thought you were all about avoiding bloodshed,” Jim said.

I gave Ghastek my best psycho smile. “I think we could all benefit from a little transparency.”

“You’re fucking up,” Hugh said from his horse.

“Shut the hell up,” I told him. “Nobody’s talking to you.”

“You’re bluffing,” Hugh said. “You won’t find anyone to take her.”

I pointed to the approaching riders.

Ghastek turned to glance over his shoulder. Beau and two deputies, a short compact man with red hair and a Hispanic woman in her forties, were closing in.

“Beau Clayton?” Ghastek dipped his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He has no jurisdiction here.”

“Yes he does. Those woods over there are in Milton County.”

Hugh’s eyes turned dark.

“He’s respected and has a high profile,” Ghastek called out. “If you kill him, every law enforcement agency will converge on us.”

Beau was only a few yards away. Six foot six and built like one of the ancient Saxons who swung axes as tall as they were, Beau rode a dappled Percheron cross that stood about eighteen hands tall and looked strong enough to pull a semi. The two deputies rode Tennessee walkers. Three riders, three shotguns. Nothing else.

Beau came to a stop. The vampires stared at him, held in check by the navigators’ minds.

“Alright,” Beau boomed. “I’m Beau Clayton, lawfully elected by the people of Milton County as their sheriff. It’s the duty of my office to faithfully execute all writs, warrants, precepts, and processes directed to me as sheriff of this county. I’m here to execute a warrant.”

The bloodsuckers stared at him.

Hugh’s stare turned calculating. He was thinking about it.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to take this person into custody. You are going to turn around and go home. The lynching has been canceled. Move along. There is nothing to see here.”

Hugh’s stallion danced under him.

“Disperse,” Beau repeated.

Hugh reached for his sword.

I raised my hand. The gates of the Keep swung open. Shapeshifters in warrior form waited in rows, filling the courtyard, their fur raised, their fangs bared. I had put every shapeshifter capable of a half-form into the courtyard. Sixty-four people. Only eighteen were combat rated, but from here, it looked like every single one was a render.

“If you assault an officer of law, the Pack will retaliate,” Jim said.

“Your best people are gone,” Ghastek said. “You’re at half-strength at best.”

I nodded. “Yes, most of our young single people have gone to hunt. You’ll be facing parents whose children are in that Keep. Have you ever tried to take a cub from a wolf? You’re welcome to give it a shot.”

Hugh’s hand was on his sword.

I reached for Slayer. Laughter bubbled up. “Go ahead, Hugh. Make my day. I’m really frustrated right now. I need to vent. Please.”

He glared at me.

“You lost,” I told him. “I called your bluff. Take your goons and go home.”

“We have no legal standing to attack a sheriff,” Ghastek said.

“You’ll do what I tell you,” Hugh told him.

“No, he won’t,” I told him. I could tell by Ghastek’s eyes that he was out. Whatever Hugh decided now, I had done my job. I had stopped this war from happening.

A roar rolled through the snowy field, shaking the winter air like a sudden, terrifying clap of thunder. Hugh’s Friesian jerked. The roar cascaded, frothing with menace and fury, awakening some long-forgotten instinct that severed the rational part of the brain from the body and left only three options open: fight, flight, or freeze.

Curran.

The relief drowned me, turning me weightless, and for a short blissful moment I was completely and utterly happy. Curran!

The trees at the north edge of the field shook as a flock of birds took flight. Curran leaped into the snow. He rose almost eight feet tall in warrior form, a muscled terrifying blend of a man and a predatory cat, sheathed in gray fur and armed with claws the size of my fingers. His head was pure lion. He opened his mouth and roared.

An enormous Kodiak bear emerged from the brush, shaking his big furry body. Next to him a bouda giggled. I’d never been so happy to hear that eerie hair-raising cackle in my entire life.

Shapeshifters poured out of the woods, ten, twenty, more . . . Where did he get them . . . ?

He must’ve gone to the Wood and pulled our people off the hunt. He’d brought an army. Yes!

Curran broke into a run. The shapeshifters followed, raising powdery snow into the air.

“We’re done here.” Ghastek turned to the sea of vampires. “Mission aborted. Bogey to mother.”

The vampires streamed off the field.

I laughed.

Hugh turned his horse, facing me. “I tried to be nice, but I have my limits. You want to be treated like an animal, I’ll treat you like one.”

He opened his mouth. Magic ripped from him like a tidal wave and snapped, catching me. A power word.

The right side of my face turned hot. A pale gold light spiraled around me. Next to me, Ghastek jerked, caught in an identical glowing tornado.

On the wall behind me, Christopher screamed, “Mistress!”

Hugh smirked.

Whatever was happening, he would die before it was over. I dashed to him across the snow, sword out. The light moved with me, streaming around me in bright sunny ribbons. I leaped over the thorns.

Hugh slid off his horse.

Curran sprinted to me, his eyes pure gold.

I struck. Hugh’s blade met mine. He bared his teeth at me.

The tornado of light around me pulsed with red, slicing through Slayer’s blade where it touched Hugh’s sword. The blade snapped in half.

No!

The field, Hugh, and Curran vanished.