There were scratches on his face and arms, and bites down his legs. The woman he was comforting bore similar wounds. But they were both far better off than the three motionless figures beyond them, one of whom was little more than raw, bloody meat.

I shuddered again and dragged my attention back to the kneeling couple. “I’m afraid the danger isn’t over yet—there’re more vampires in the park.”

As if to emphasize my words, the sounds of snarling, of flesh smacking flesh, broke the sharp silence. Concern shot through me; Jackson, more than anyone, knew the danger of engaging in hand-to-hand battle with the cloaks, so why the hell was he doing so? The urge to go help him surged, but I resisted. I had to ensure these people were safe first.

The man’s gaze jumped past me, his expression a mix of pain, fear, and determination. “Then we’d better run—”

“No,” I cut in. PIT would be less than impressed if I allowed freshly infected people to go wandering off. “They’ve got the park ringed. You both need to shelter in the doorway over there.”

“But if they hit us there, we’ll be trapped,” the man said, eyeing the huge archway dubiously.

“No, because I’ll block it off with a wall of fire they won’t get through.”

The fear in his expression grew stronger, and this time it was aimed at me. “What are you?”

“Fire witch,” I said shortly. “Now go. And no matter what happens, don’t move from that doorway until I come to get you.”

He hesitated, his gaze briefly sweeping me. Then he nodded. “We won’t.”

As the two of them rose and staggered over to the doorway, I quickly checked the other three. One was dead, but the other two were still alive. For how much longer was anyone’s guess, because there was an awful lot of blood on the ground surrounding them . . .

I dragged my gaze away. The couple had reached the arched doorway, so I called to the mother again and raised the promised barrier. Pain immediately lanced through my brain, and for several seconds, the world faded in and out of existence. It was a very clear warning I was being drained to the point of exhaustion.

But until we were safe, until the cloaks were dealt with, I had no other option but to continue.

I bolted back to help Jackson. As I rounded the corner, I saw him, unhurt and standing. He was holding a silver knife in each hand that gleamed with an almost unearthly fire, and there were three bodies at his feet. Six others prowled around him rather than attacking en masse, which didn’t really make sense given they still had the weight of numbers on their side . . . The thought trailed off as my gaze rested on the scythe-free face of one of his opponents.

I’d seen him before.