All that you behold, you could become. You have but to ask.

My shoulder blades twitched involuntarily, mourning their lack of wings. Yeah, wings would be nice. Even bat wings. So would a fiery whip.

I sighed.

With a truly prodigious effort, I wrestled my temper under control. I did the visualization thing, wrapping my anger into a tight package of butcher’s paper, tying it with twine, and throwing it into the algae-covered pond, where it bubbled and sank beneath the depths.

Belphegor’s presence faded, and the real world came crashing back to the sound of a gunshot.

On the shore, barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt, Cody took careful aim at Meg Mucklebones and fired again, sending a second bullet through her chest. It sent her staggering and opened a hole in her torso like a knot in a moss-covered tree trunk.

“Stupid wolf!” the marsh hag screeched at him. Dripping slime sealed the wound closed with a distinctly unpleasant sucking sound. “You should know better! You cannot kill me that way!”

He fired again. “Oh, yeah? I can try.”

She reeled under the impact, flailing and sending up gouts of foul-smelling stagnant pond water.

“Brandon!” I called, taking advantage of the distraction. “Come down!”

He pried his eyes open. “I can’t.”

I held my left hand out to him. “Yeah, you can.”

After a long, agonizing moment of hesitation, he climbed down and took my hand, his fingers folding into mine, his brown eyes wide and terrified. “I’m scared.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I know. But it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

I wished it were true. I wished there weren’t things in Brandon’s life so scary that he fled to a marsh hag’s lair for sanctuary.

As we began inching down the trunk, Meg Mucklebones made one last desperate lunge, reaching for us with her huge, dripping hands. And I didn’t hesitate. Shielding Brandon with my body, I did what Cody had taught me and struck without thinking. Wielding dauda-dagr in a sweeping blow, I slashed it across her slimy green fingers and watched Meg shrink back to cradle her seeping hand against her chest, wisps of frosty mist rising from the wounds. Unlike bullets, apparently dauda-dagr was capable of inflicting actual damage.

“You hurt me.” Her voice was small with disbelief. “You hurt me!”

“Sorry,” I said in an unapologetic tone. “Here’s the deal, Meg, or Jenny, or whatever your name is. I don’t care what the rules were back in the olden days on the old sod.” I pointed dauda-dagr at her. “This is Hel’s domain. And there will be no drowning and eating of children. Ever. Understand?”