Through the eddies of smoke and mist, the clashing sounds of shouting and gunfire and screaming, I spotted small figures—children—scattered over the lawn. Some of them were running, others frozen to the spot. Beyond them, soldiers were mauled to death, their corpses tipped over like sacks of flour, and the dogs surged onward while ink-feathered crows spiraled down to pick up the dead to carry back to Jurgana. The Horned God was slowly gaining ground, her eyelids droopy and still half-asleep. Her midnight waves of power swirled about her naked body, dripping in beads of scarlet.

I should have been thinking of Byron—that he was somewhere out there and I needed to find him. But my mind was honed on my sister. Valarie streaked ahead of the Estlores and Troelsens. Wildfyre blazed from the groove of her sword's fuller and made the adamere blade gleam blue against the bleak night. She had already swept across the grass to the first cluster of sobbing children as a dog barrelled toward them. My fingers tightened on the hilt of my sword as black fear crushed my lungs. My mind shot back to the Hemmlok Forest. Every inch of me wanted to go to Valarie's aid, to stand in front of her, to drag her off the battlefield. My sister didn't hesitate nor falter; she was all instinct and graceful motion.

The beast, all fangs and claws and snarls, pounced—

Valarie slid sideways—

Leaping and whirling as if she were dancing, lifting her sword high, she powered downward and cleaved the beast in half. Wildfyre exploded from her blade and gorged on the creature's body.

I let out a pent-up breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Varen!" a husky voice barked.

I half-twisted around, drawn to the woman who had shouted my name. Petra's white teeth flashed brightly against her deep umber skin as she stabbed her dagger in the air behind us. "Jurgana's beasts are moving in to encircle us!"

Hellsgate. Petra was right. The servants behind us, caught out in the middle of the lawn, were bunched together as Jurgana's dogs swooped in to cut them off from retreating from the mansion.

I lunged forward, grabbing a torch blazed with wildfyre and ripping it from the ground. I swung back to those who had come to our aid. More Crowthers had arrived as well as Văduvas and many faces I didn't recognize from any House. I tossed the blue-flamed torch to one of my men who snatched it from the air. "Get the wildfyre torches. Use them as spears and lances!" I ordered the amassing Crowther warband. All of them, men and women, were on edge yet calm in the face of Jurgana's wrath. "Work together and drive the beasts back. Bolts and gunfire won't work against them—you need to carve them into pieces or set them on fire!" The warband broke apart, racing around the edge of the dance area which had descended into bedlam, to claim wildfyre torches.

Petra, like all of her female hunters, had removed her high heels. She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, rotating her shoulders and spinning the daggers in either hand. We shared a grim look. There were unfamiliar men and women who'd collected around us, who we both suspected were house servants and not soldiers. Petra arched an eyebrow. "They can form a chain and bring the kids in while we protect them!" she shouted against the deafening sounds surrounding us.

"Do it!"

The Văduvas were a house of hunters who worked for the Förstners. The Head of Lower House Văduva was female, and her family members and servants were few, but they were exceptional—including her right-hand woman, Petra. The Văduvas hunted the forests for lesser creatures and the concrete jungle for mortals. But they didn't have the Crowther bloodline running through them. They didn't have strength and speed. And right now, both were needed.

Petra's thick springy hair, pulled back into a dense ponytail, danced as she whirled around to face those remaining, ushering out a stream of commands.

I jabbed a finger toward one of the pale-faced servants. "Find Sirro!" I had no fucking idea where the Horned God was. We might be able to thwart Jurgana's beasts, but without Sirro to stop Jurgana the bloodshed would be endless. "Tear the mansion apart if you need to. Find the Horned God, now!"

Petra spun back to me. She shouted once again in her husky voice—a jarring reminder. "Varen, Byron's out there!"

Hells-gate. Byron.

I rubbed my face with my free hand. "Byron's out there?!"

Last I knew Byron was railing his fists against Laurena's door demanding his sister awaken. I thought more than likely he'd probably be safely tucked up in bed, or his bodyguards had him stashed somewhere safe.

Shit, shit, shit—

What the fuck was he doing?

The children... Byron would be doing exactly as we intended— going out there to bring them in. And that thought led to Tabitha—if she were safe. My chest tightened and a cold feeling seeped into my blood. I hoped she was still inside the mansion and hadn't been drawn out here by sounds of chaos like Byron likely had. I tore my mind from Tabitha, whirled around, and scanned the lawn, searching for Byron.

Those grotesque half-formed beasts lumbered ahead of Jurgana while a third of her dogs hunted the soldiers deeper in the lawn, some starting to head toward the scattered kids. Jurgana's bedmates devoured anything in their way, and her flock of crows flew overhead. The birds were amassing over the servants bunching up in the middle of the lawn.

What the hells are the birds doing?

They were circling above like the outer wind bands of a hurricane.

I had a terrible feeling I should know what those birds were doing, but I was too distracted with trying to find Byron amongst all the carnage.

Petra bounded to my side. Her eyebrows drew over her dark brown eyes as she searched the lawn. I pushed back the locks of hair that had come free and swung in front of my face. "Where the fuck is he?!"

"I can't see him any longer!" she replied, shaking her head. "But he was near the eastern side!"

There was no more time to give to Byron.

I needed to get ahead of the children and annihilate any beast coming their way. My sister had the eastern side and I'd take the western flank. "Get the children. I'll take Jurgana's beasts!" I yelled to Petra.

Petra lunged into motion, crying out to her hunters to follow. Moonlight struck her curved daggers, making them gleam against her emerald dress as her long, lean legs chewed through the distance toward the first fleeing child. Her team, comprised mostly of those from her House, were right behind her. She shouted orders, splitting them up into units—a small team of protectors for each of those who'd carry the kids back to safety.

I opened a leather pocket in my bandoleer and fished out a ceramic vial. Tossing it upward, I swiftly unsheathed the second sword from my back. Before the vial descended, I slashed and shattered it into shards that spun away, lost amongst the crushed grass and pools of mud. White-hot energy exploded and coursed down the length of each adamere blade, the humming sensation strumming against my palms and reverberating along my bones. My swords, crackling and sparking with unleashed lightning, were a beacon against the waves of darkness, silhouetted against the whirling mist and blue-tinged flames of wildfyre from torches that had fallen and were now eating the lawn and consuming straw bales. I relaxed my muscles, loosening joints, and began to rotate the swords in a swinging arc—faster, faster, faster—in a blur of adamere and might. It created a whirring sound that beckoned death.

I surged forward—gone in a blink.

It was just another day at the office, I kept telling myself, except Jurgana's beasts were more lethal than the average crime lord.

I was a thunderstorm, wide sweeping and all-consuming. I swore I could see the chilly air shimmering and charging, about to erupt in staccato bursts of lightning, as if the raw energy flowing over my swords extended outward and drew in its own kind. A bitterly cold wind whipped through the grass as I tore across the lawn. I was tumultuous and far-reaching.

The first dog I met head-on. Both of us leaped. I drove my sword right through its gaping maw. It felt like I'd forced my blade's keen edge through iron, yet it felt wrong as if I'd sliced through hardened sludge. I used my momentum and my body weight to spin sideways and twist the blade, slicing the dog's skull apart. I drove my second sword down through its back and chest and split it into two. Lightning sparked and coursed through the beast's separated body as it tumbled into pieces and flattened grass, erupting into a thick spray of black gunk.

There was no time to stop.

So on I ran.

I should have been hunting for Byron out here. He should have been my first consideration, but I couldn't take the bleating from the children. I had to get to them first.

I was a blur of fury and destruction as I met dog after dog, trying to get to the kid set furthest away. My blades were an extension of my limbs. My body was made for this. I had been forged in the training pit of hells.

Jurgana's dogs were massive and brutal, swift and vicious. They charged at me, sensing one of their own ilk.

And I flowed with the battle.

Fangs that snapped near my throat—

Went for my leg—

A feint.

Side-stepping—

Leaping and twisting—

Slashing downward—

I was a tempest of wrath.

Of bone-biting winds that blustered ahead of me.

A whirlwind of slicing blades.

Faster, faster, faster—

Beheading—

Gutting—

Hacking away limbs—

Slice and dice and move on—faster, faster, faster.

Bodies tumbled, limbs too. Lightning scorched the unnatural beasts, their body parts melting into a pool of soupy substance.

And I was there, not stopping, sliding a blade into its sheath strapped to my spine and scooping up the wailing girl—five years old in her pretty shoes and party dress. She wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her head into my shoulder, her body shaking with her sobs.

I raced for Petra's team, which had gone for a small cluster of children and was the closest group of hunters this far out on the lawn. I slammed to a halt, about to yell for Petra to take the kid from me, when the twin-link thrummed with disharmony and chilling gusts of utter terror. I felt, rather than heard, Valarie screaming Byron's name.

I twisted around, frantically scanning the lawn.

Amongst the smoke and mist, the soldiers falling, I spotted Byron running with two young boys.

Behind him, Byron's bodyguards had gone down. A dog ripped the back of one's neck, tearing part of her spine out, jagged bone and flesh dangling from its bloodied maw.

An unearthly baying howl.

It surged forward.

One child clung to Byron's back like a monkey, the other was balanced on his hip. The children's shrieks of terror chased them across the lawn as Jurgana's beast ran them down.

I saw the moment Byron knew he couldn't outrun the beast. The moment of resignation registered in his expression—the pinched lips and flare of his nostrils, the way his attention turned to where Valarie stood across the lawn with her sword hanging limply in her hand. Her face was pale and her eyes wide. They locked gazes. His eyes shone with a final goodbye, yet were steely with determination to go down as the last line of defense for the children.

He skidded to a halt, untangling the children and setting them on the grass. He pivoted, drawing a blade from the inside of his muddied and torn suit jacket. He moved forward and stood in front of the children, lowering his stance.

And then I caught a glimpse of my sister—my brave, bold sister—a streak of rippling white and black hair and silver adamere alight with blue flames. She was a maelstrom of fierceness tearing across the battlefield.

"Petra!" I shouted. Petra spun my way, and a brief look of confusion swept across her face. I tossed the kid to her. She grabbed a hold of her, and I pushed off, fast, a blur of unnatural speed. Because there was something else rushing across the lawn, set on a collision course with Byron and my sister.

Spilling across the grass was a deluge of black glistening limbs, a cruel wave of malevolence, hungry for flesh—Jurgana's bedmates.

Shit, shit, shit—

The dog charged Byron.

He pivoted around, plunging his blade into the beast's throat.

Nothing.

He'd lost his dagger, the hilt buried in its neck as the dog spun and lunged with a snapping of fangs, a frenzy of otherworldly barking.

Byron barely managed to rear back, stumbling over his feet—

Lost his balance—

And went down.

The dog bunched its hind legs and pushed forward with lethal burred claws, deadly teeth dripping with black saliva—

Byron kicked out with a foot and smashed it right in the face.

But all it did was twist the dog's head away. The power and weight of the beast kept coming—

Its lupine head whipped back—

Teeth bared, going for Byron's throat.

My sister...

My sister was there with a savage battle cry I felt beneath my skin.

Valarie swept her sword, blazing with wildfyre, between them and then upward, severing right through the neck and beheading the beast. Its body crashed into Byron's chest, slamming him onto his back. Its head flew upward to then fall and roll along the grass.

Valarie swayed, panting ragged breaths. She let go of her sword's hilt with one hand and clasped it to her heaving chest.

Byron shoved the remains of the dead creature from him, scrambling to his feet as he looked upon its body, aflame with wildfyre, bubbling like tar before it dissolved into a mess of stickiness. He spun around, grabbed Valarie, and pulled her in for a quick, fierce kiss.

Holy fucking shit...

What the fuck are they playing at?

The kiss made Valarie disorientated and stupid, judging by the stunned expression on her slack face before her slight smile bloomed into the widest grin I'd ever seen. And neither of them were aware in that moment of what was descending rapidly upon them.

"Valarie!" I roared, running, my heart frantically pounding in my chest, blood rushing in my ears.

A swarm of darkness—Jurgana's bedmates—rolled across the lawn, moving fast, incredibly fast like a torrent of storm-swept water.

Too far, I was too far away...

The insects rose upward like a tidal wave spun by hurricane winds—higher, higher, higher—about to crash down upon them.

I slid to a halt. Snatching a grenade hooked into my bandoleer, I pulled the pin with my teeth, spitting it out. The small round metal was cold in my curved palm.

"Valarie!" I yelled.

Across the distance, Valarie's gaze snapped to mine, her black brows nudging together.

"Incoming!" I bellowed.

Byron looked over his shoulder, finally seeing the danger behind and above them. He shoved Valarie down onto the grass, covering her body with his.

I tossed the grenade up and swung at it with the flat of my sword, using it like a baseball bat.

Adamere hit metal with an almighty crack that resounded across the lawn.

The grenade flew through the air and struck the heart of the creeping critters—

And exploded—

Wildfyre ripped through the roiling mass of insects. It was crude oil floating on water, burning up with blue flames and smoke billowing upward. It rippled along the waves of Jurgana's swarming bedmates, incinerating them to black dust that swirled apart in the gusty night air.

I was running for my sister as soon as I'd hit the grenade.

Byron gingerly reared back, half-kneeling to allow Valarie to roll onto her back. Both of them stared wide-eyed at one other. Valarie lurched upward and pulled him into an embrace. Both of them were coated in grime and black dust.

But did it stop them from kissing?

Hells no.

My polished shoes slid along the wet grass halt as I skidded in front of them, waving my sword in the air like I was crazy. I was fucking crazy. "For fucks' sake!" I bellowed. "Stop sucking face!" Great House heir or not, that was my godsdamned sister and I wanted to punch him in the face. Not to mention there was a slew of fucking crazy beasts that wanted to rip us apart.

Despite the danger, when they pulled away from one another, neither of them could stop the wide-ass grins. Byron helped Valarie to her feet, then grabbed hold of both boys who were softly crying and trembling with shock. "Thank you," he said to me, his square jaw flexing.

"Whatever," I replied, rolling my eyes and unsheathing my second sword. Like I had a choice. He was heir to the Great House and we all bled for him.

Byron didn't falter at my pretty-much-in-your-face-rudeness—which under normal circumstances I'd be punished for—and I recognized the depth of gratitude in his blue eyes as his gaze darted to Valarie before returning back to me. I sighed. I jutted my chin to Valarie who was stooping down to pick up her fallen sword. "Thank you, too," I added, quietly. Because with those bedmates of Jurgana's about to fall upon them, Byron had shielded my twin with his own body.

However, I couldn't help myself. I leaned my upper body forward, bared my teeth, and hissed lowly, "But that's my sister. Next time you kiss her—I'm gonna kick your ass."

His mouth twitched with amusement. He inclined his head and then pushed forward, the conversation over.

"Val!" I shouted, starting to sidestep into motion. I jabbed my sword at the ball of servants being encircled and attacked by Jurgana's dogs. "Get them to the mansion, then we've got to go for the dogs!" Valarie hefted her blazing-blue sword and started to swing it in an arc. The color in her cheeks faded at the sight of all those dogs, the chaos, and the screams cut short as hunters went down in a flash of fangs and claws. "It's just slice and dice, move on," I reassured her.