Leaving Val and Byron behind, I ran in a burst of speed, fast, furious, straight for the mayhem—the fearful, shrieking servants, the dogs ripping through flesh, the stabbing of wildfyre torches as hunters and enforcers tried to drive the beasts back or get close enough to hack at them.

I charged through, slashing and gutting, clearing an area free from dogs. Back here the sound of terror was deafening. The servants were bundled up, tighter than a crowd of concert-goers. They were pushing back, trying to get away from the dogs that made it through the front lines and lunged—

And the servants reared back—

People were falling and being trampled.

I needed to start circling and decimating...but then...

Then I saw her—

And heard someone else—

Irma shrieked my name, "Varen! Varen!"

But my gaze was locked on Tabitha. She wasn't running away, not like everyone else. She ran toward the chaos.

Her hair flailed behind her like a silken scarf. Her arms pumped as she ran, unmindful of that avant-garde dress. From her clenched fist came a flash of silver—a hunting dagger, the honed edge serrated near the hilt and curving to a slender tip. Yet for some strange reason, there were slender fingers of shadows curling around the blade.

Tabitha wove around people, leaping if necessary. She'd kicked her high heels off somewhere along the way and she ran barefoot, fleet and swift. She was heading in a direct line.

Where the hells is she going?

My gaze shot ahead of her, keeping the same line she was running in.

There... She was heading for a boy trembling beside the bonfire.

That kid that had knocked into me earlier at the dance...Frank? Freddie?

And something was lit up around him as if the air sparked with luminesce. At first, I wasn't sure if it was heat waves scattering embers from the bonfire or the kid himself. All the hair on his head began to rise like static electricity teased his locks.

I saw Freddie swing Tabitha's way, his features scrunching as recognition flooded through his ashen face, chased by a deep sense of relief as if Tabitha could make the nightmare go away. "Batha!" he cried out, frozen to the spot.

Except—

One of Jurgana's beasts was headed straight for him.

Tabitha began to shout and wave an arm above her head as she ran.

I could hear her voice, only her voice above the carnage.

Here! On me! On me! Here—she yelled—Come for me!

Anyone else would have turned and ran the other way at the nightmare streaking toward the boy, but Tabitha didn't. She kept going, kept yelling, desperately trying to reel the dog her way.

I forgot everyone else, everything else. My heart pounded wildly. "TABITHA!" I roared.

Fuck. Tabitha!

But Irma's sudden terrified scream tugged me to spin around. "Varen!"

Irma's cat eyes were wide and filled with panic. She staggered, shunted, and swaying amongst the melee of frantic bodies trying to push their way back from Jurgana's dogs. Blood dripped from a wound on her forehead. Her hand reached for me. "Varen!"

One moment she was there, the next she went down, disappearing beneath treading feet. She'd fallen and the stampede of people trampled over top of her.

I could hear her shrieking in agony.

"Irma!"

Shit, shit, shit—

I was cleaved in two—Irma or Tabitha.

I stabbed my swords into the soft earth, and lunged into the mess of limbs, elbowing, and shoving them back. Irma was on her front—bare feet, dress shoes, and high heels trampling on top of her. I leaned low and grabbed a hold of her arm, dragging her upright. Her dress was ripped and dirty, and one of her high heels had come away. Mud smeared her face and limbs. Bruises and new gashes wept blood on her arms and hands.

She clung to me, sobbing, her sleek hair in disarray around her face, tears ruining her mascara.

I wasn't a complete bastard. My heart squeezed with worry. I wouldn't want anyone hurt, even my very ex-girlfriend. But my mind was on Tabitha. I had to get to her. I was taking a step back, trying to shake her off, when Irma sobbed, "Varen!" She looked up at me, her eyebrows nudging together with bewilderment. She was hurt and terrified I was leaving her. She clung to me tighter as I tried to unhook her death grip from my arm.

"Irma, I've got to go!" I barked.

"Varen, please..." she implored me, her red-rimmed eyes releasing more tears.

Suddenly Rosa pushed her way to us. "Irma!" She hooked her fingers around each of Irma's hands curled around my arm. Rosa looked even worse than Irma with her frizzy curls sticking every which way, and grime and blood smearing her round cheeks, but she wasn't mentally coming apart. She was determined and clear-thinking.

"Shit, Battagli, you okay?"

"Irma, I've got you," she replied instead to my ex-girlfriend, her voice gentle. She tugged Irma away from me. Rosa's brown eyes blazed as her gaze snapped to mine. "Go! You're needed!"

***

I ran. The dagger in my tight fist thrummed. Wisps of shadows curled around the blade. The dagger was an ancient relic from the time of our gods, a gift given to me by the Purveyor of Rarities. One of Zrenyth's blades.

Freddie was rooted to the spot right in front of the bonfire near the outer edge of the dance. His dark hair, streaked with blonde, stood on end. The night air swirled with banks of heat, embers, and smoke. Aether danced all around him like dust motes.

Behind me, I heard the soldiers and hunters rallying—calling to one another—and people shouting and screaming. Flesh being shredded. The snapping and growling of Jurgana's beasts. And above all those sounds of madness, I heard Freddie's warbled shriek as he stared at the dog bounding his way.

I ran as fast as I could, pumping my arms, jumping over debris, dodging a new wave of people who were fleeing or had fallen over and were being helped by others.

"Batha!" Freddie gasped. His dirty cheeks were washed clean with tears rolling down his face, his trembling hands hanging limply by his sides.

My bare feet splashed through the sludge beside overturned tables and kegs. Dirty water splattered my legs, and the smell of beer and wine was an acrid stench that burnt my nostrils.

"Here! On me! On me! Here!" I bellowed, slashing the hunting knife above my head "Come for me!"

The enormous dog finally noticed me. It skidded to a halt, mud spraying from the momentum, and wheeled around. Its tarred black fur was hackled in a ridgeline along its back. The beast barked, revealing needle-sharp teeth, row upon row of them. A chill ran through me, and my stomach turned over in terror as those pitiless black eyes fixed on me.

It charged, and it moved fast, incredibly fast.

My own bloodhound howled.

For a moment, I thought I heard my name being yelled—a ringing note of terror and fury. As I ran, I swooped down and picked up a wooden chair, one that was foldable and had been pushed over in the melee and collapsed in on itself.

"Come on!" I yelled, urging the beast onward.

Oh my freaking gods!

I'd hunted animals out in the forest, but they were small critters, hares, and squirrels, never a beast birthed from a Horned God.

I slid to a standstill, bent a knee, and slammed the blade of my dagger into the sodden earth, right where I could snatch it up once more. I tossed my head, flicking the loose hair from out of my eyes as I rose, bracing my stance and centering my weight, somehow remembering in all this chaos a few things Markel had taught me.

I didn't have much of a plan—just to kill the beast. I didn't even know if I could do that. It bounded toward me, great big loping strides chewing up the distance between us. Black saliva whipped from its gaping mouth, thin black lips curled back from its fangs.

My heart thudded. I hefted the folded wooden chair, my fingers curling around the sides of the wooden backrest, getting ready to swing. My fingers were sweaty and slippery, and I feared I wouldn't keep a firm enough grip. I braced myself, digging the balls of my feet into the sloppy earth. With a roaring snarl, the beast sprang—

I drove forward, screaming—

Swung the chair as hard as I could—

And struck the dog across the side of the head. The solid impact jarred through my fingers, my hand, my arm. It was as if I'd struck a stone wall with a wet cloth. The chair exploded into matchsticks.

Into freaking matchsticks!

The creature kept coming, and I just managed to roll my shoulders, using the momentum of the swing to twist my body away, narrowly avoiding my face being bitten off.

I leaned down, snatching up the dagger.

The beast wrenched itself around awkwardly and went for me again. Its merciless eyes reflected my pale face, wide-eyed and utterly terrified—

Hurtling into me, paws meeting my chest—

And knocked me off my feet, backward into a pool of muddy water. I went down with an ooof, the breath punched out of me, dirty water splashing. I didn't know I managed it, but I'd gotten my forearm beneath its throat and pushed up to keep the beast's jaws away from my face. Black gummy drool splashed onto my cheek. Its breath, hot and putrid, washed over me.

Teeth snapped at my face. I thrashed about, utterly panicked, stabbing mindlessly with my dagger. The blade hit something jarring, perhaps its muzzle. I pulled out the blade and rammed the dagger with everything I had into the side of its head.

A powerful thrum pulsed outward from the blade—

The dog's head exploded—

Gunk sprayed all over my face, mingling with the mud. Its body collapsed on top of me. I was pinned beneath its barrelled chest, its crushing weight pushing me into the puddle of water and alcohol and soft, wet earth—down, down, down.

Thick dirty water lapped the side of my cheeks, bubbling around my mouth, and all I could smell was the putrid reek of wine and beer with something earthy mixed together. I realized with horror that I was sinking deeper into mud.

I'm going to drown!

I went under. Frigid sloppy mud plugged my nostrils and my ears. I was deaf beneath the surface of the watery sludge. I heard nothing but the rapid pounding of my heart as undiluted terror churned through my veins.

The creature's weight drove me further into the mire.

I couldn't fight my way to the surface for air. I couldn't push the creature off. Every single part of my body was on fire, burning and screaming for oxygen.

And further down I sank. I desperately wondered if anyone would ever find my body beneath the beast.

In those last moments, my mind fading and going black, I thought of my aunt...of Mr. Whiskers, and the absurdity that I didn't even know his name. Of those last kisses...

I knew I shouldn't take a breath. There was no air here, only muddied water and sludge that would choke my throat, my lungs...but I had to...I had to...

My mouth parted—

Suddenly, the weight pressing me under shifted...gone...

And a fist curled into the front of my dress, bunching sodden material and dragging me upward.

I surfaced, coughing up watery sludge from my airways and gasping jagged breaths.

I stared into the face of the man who'd dragged me out of the mud and knelt beside me, staring back with horrified wide eyes beneath black sweaty hair that stuck to his forehead.

Eyes that were such a deep purple they were almost black.

I felt something turning in my mind—a key, its teeth clicking over, pushing at the lock.

And I saw another face, a flash of it, younger, much younger, with sharp cheekbones and a cruel mouth—What's wrong, little servant?

"I know you," I whispered. To my own ears, it sounded as if my voice came from afar.

Where? I didn't know where I knew him from or who he was, only that we'd met...when I was lying down on gravel...my body in agony.

Mr. Whiskers blinked and then did something that stopped the lock from turning over completely and revealing the truth. He kissed me. A fast, hard-mouthed kiss. And in the kiss, I could taste his relief to find me alive.

The memory of where I knew him from dissolved, and no matter how hard I reached for it, it slipped away.

His hands cradled either side of my wet face, though his gaze was fierce when he spoke. "Are you fucking insane?" His broad hands were gentle as he wiped the muddy water from my face.

"A little bit," I agreed, my teeth chattering. I was cold and adrenaline pumped my heart faster, but I mostly shivered from shock.

He helped me to my feet and I sagged against him, soaking up the strength and heat of his body. As I glanced upward over his shoulder, my attention was arrested by the crows. A cyclone of black-winged crows circled above the servants caught out in the middle of the lawn. And it slammed into me what they were doing. Why Jurgana's beasts were encircling them.

"It's a holding pattern," I gasped.

Mr. Whiskers twisted his shoulders, following my line of sight. His jaw clenched. He could see it too, what those birds were waiting for—the dogs to bunch everyone tighter and tighter together—before they dived.

He swung back, pushing me toward Freddie. "Get the kid and get out of here!" he shouted, already spinning away, snatching up his swords and heading back to the soldiers battling Jurgana's beasts, trying to drive them back with the blue-flame torches.

I started running for Freddie. His chest heaved with quick, tight breaths and he stared straight ahead, petrified, at the death and panic spread across the lawn. The bonfire behind him roared higher, crackling and spitting, and I swore I saw forked lightning exploding within the orange and red flames.

Electricity hummed against my drenched skin and soaking-wet dress.

And suddenly I was terrified for a different reason altogether.

If Freddie gave in to that power prowling beneath his skin... If he unleashed its might...

Other.

Lightning-striker.