A jolt of pure panic gripped me. “Lurine, no! Get out of here!”

And then it was all chaos.

Lurine’s coils retracted as fast as they’d struck. Johnny’s shotgun boomed several times and Dunham’s pistol cracked. Heedless of the gunfire, ghouls poured through the shattered door and leaped through the windows, bursting the screens and smashing the glass panes. I caught sight of Stefan, an actual sword in his hand, his pupils wide and furious in his ice-blue eyes. If he wasn’t ravening, he was damn close to it.

Every other ghoul in the place had gone over the edge. They were fighting hand-to-hand and will-to-will, grappling and pounding wildly. Some had weapons; some were using fists. Unable to reload in the mayhem, Johnny was using his shotgun as a cudgel. The Locksleys’ rec room was a seething maelstrom of raw emotion and naked hunger, and I could feel myself being sucked into it, my essence swirling into it like water down a drain. It filled me with a terror and helpless fury that served only to fuel the madness.

Except for Jerry Dunham, who was as cool as a proverbial cucumber, waiting for a clear shot.

Stefan was holding the others at bay with his sword, which he wielded with the efficiency of long, long practice, his half-mad gaze sweeping the room, searching for me.

“Stefan, get out!” I shouted at him. “It’s you they’re after!”

Of course he didn’t listen, homing in on the sound of my voice; and worse, I saw Cody was behind him.

“That’ll do just fine, blondie.” Dunham pistol-whipped me across the cheek, hard enough that I toppled sideways. “Now shut it.”

Blood filled my mouth. All I could do was watch, lying on the floor with my hands and feet tied, as Stefan came forward, his sword in both hands, looking like a cross between an assassin and an avenging angel.

Until Dunham lowered his pistol and shot out both his kneecaps with calm precision. “Ray, get the cop!”

Stefan went down, his face twisted with pain. Ray D charged Cody, who braced himself in a shooter’s stance. His service revolver fired, and a fine red mist exploded from Ray’s chest. He staggered backward and crumpled. Mary let out a shriek, flinging herself toward Cody.

And then time . . . stuttered. I don’t know how else to describe it. Time stuttered, and Ray D wasn’t dead and shot on the floor anymore. He was on his feet, still charging Cody, wrestling for his gun, aided by Mary.

“Hold him off!” Dunham shouted, putting another bullet in Stefan’s sword arm, turning his biceps into a gory mess. “I just need a minute!” He lunged for the bar, dropping his pistol and scrambling for dauda-dagr and the welding glove.