Jed’s mind did a quick battlefield trauma calculation. He’d seen many gunshot wounds to all parts of the human body during his time in the Teams. In Corbin’s case, he was looking at a large-diameter puncture wound to the right upper chest, clean through the lung. If the entry was below the shoulder arteries but above the pulmonary arteries, the trauma was survivable. Likely tension pneumothorax and hemothorax. So long as she didn’t pull the spear out and bleed to death before the paramedics arrived, she’d survive.

She flashed him a bloody grin.

“Corbin, don’t!” he shouted but too late.

She yanked the spear out of her chest, her eyes reflecting the agony he heard as she screamed, then tossed it to him and promptly collapsed. He caught the weapon of St. George the dragon slayer in midair, just as Victor kicked and spun out of his grip. The demon keeper threw himself at Jed, but not before Jed got the spear tip in line with the fiend’s charge. The weapon impaled Victor in the same place Corbin had been struck.

How’s that feel, you demon bastard, huh?

Demons were fleeing in droves now, angry and shrieking at Jed as they slammed into the walls and floor all around him, leaving glowing, fiery residuals in their wake. Jed couldn’t help but grin as the tide turned. He could see Victor weaken and seem smaller with each abandonment. With a powerful kick to Victor’s chest, Jed drove him back and yanked the spear free. Flush with purpose, adrenaline, and light, Jed shifted his footing into a combat stance and thrust the spear repeatedly into his dark adversary.

For Corbin . . .

For Rachel . . .

For Sarah Beth . . .

For Johnny . . .

Jed set his stance one last time, watching the demons fleeing the bloodied body before him, the homicidal rage still twisting on the thin face.

And for me . . .

With gritted teeth, he rammed the spear upward—a mighty thrust powered by his arms and legs driving together. The point found its mark in the V  under Victor’s jaw and emerged a millisecond later from the top of the  demon master’s head. A pulse of dark energy knocked Jed backward and the spear from his grip. He backpedaled to catch his balance, then watched as what remained of the demon legion abandoned their general. Jed’s breath caught in his throat at what happened next. Instead of collapsing in death, Victor’s corpse decomposed before Jed’s eyes—turning to shards and dust before hitting the ground. The spear of St. George, no longer suspended by the body that had now turned to dust, clattered to the floor.

He lingered, stupefied for a moment, before turning to the trio of Watchers holding hands—Michaela, Sarah Beth, and . . . Rachel.

Yes, Rachel’s a Watcher too.