Someone else crashes to the ground behind him, and I jerk free of his grip and kneel down at their side.

Julia’s wide eyes stare up at me. All the knives and stakes rise from her chest and stomach. I reach for one, plucking it out and pressing my hand into her cut, telling the blood to heal her.

The crunch of Numerius stepping toward us pulls my stare to him. I can’t heal her and fight him. Roman faces Numerius, but all his weapons are gone. He can’t call them to him while they’re buried in Julia. I could never heal her that fast.

“Julia,” Numerius says as if he’s just bumped into her at the grocery store. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought Lucius would have done away with you by now.”

“Not for lack of trying.” Blood bubbles at her lips.

Numerius gives a cool smile. “But here you are.”

“You always did like doing his dirty work.” She gives him a bloody, fierce smile.

Numerius frowns. “I always do my own.”

He flicks his hand and the knives dig deeper.

I let go of her wound and send the knife I pulled from her into his stomach. He plucks it out and tosses it to the side with the ease of someone swatting a mosquito. Blood runs freely from her lips now.

She’s no longer staring down Numerius leaning toward us. She focuses on me. I hate the way her eyes look, like the fog is seeping into them.

“You need your father.”

I cringe at the words.

“Or maybe just his crown.”

I search for Lucius. He’s standing on the edge of the garden, watching as if waiting to see where the tides will turn. When he catches me staring, he takes a step into the bramble, past Willow’s dangling body.

He’s going to run.

“Go,” Julia says. I squeeze her hand.

But I can’t leave Roman. Numerius takes another slow step closer before a line of fire darts between us. The blood on the ground sizzles as the blaze grows high enough to make Numerius raise his eyebrows a fraction.

I follow the flames to Aristelle, crouching with her hands on the ground of the shoreline. She stands as Xander, Diantha, and Reina jump from the boat. They stride toward us in soaking-wet clothes with black streaks of ash on their arms and faces from however many vampires they killed to reach the shore. More magicians approach on the other side of Numerius. I never thought I’d be happy to see Natasha’s snarling face, but she’s there with her hulking brother and a wall of magicians behind them. I recognize the hypnotist with the lip rings. Cecily swings a wooden club covered with stakes. Her wet blue hair clings to her cheeks, and a wild grin stretches her face. She looks more like Harley Quinn than ever.