The world sways a bit, and I have to rest against a chiseled wing. I know I’m skirting the edges of a Haze. I suppress the urge to ram my hand down my trousers and jerk off. A boner’s not a useful weapon in a fight, but it’ll have to wait. The acrid stink of smoke hits my nostrils. The cries of fighting men and clashing metal drift to my ears from up ahead. Blackriver.

A town lies beyond the gate. Multicolored houses disappear between the trees. All built in a medieval-style with beams and daub and thatched roofs. This must be Blackriver town. I run down a narrow main street, all cobbles and stone paving. Not a soul walks the street. Every door stands closed, wooden shutters barring the lower windows. From the candle-lit upper floors, I catch the twitch of curtains, eyes following my jog down the pavement. The sounds of battle increase with every step.

Another few miles through normal woods, and I come upon Blackriver’s twenty-foot high boundary wall and a gate. Or what’s left of a gate. The solid oak hangs off its hinges. I thought magic wards protected Blackriver. How did Alexei’s army get inside?

As I rush into the mansion’s woodland, into shadowed night, screams and cries of pain echo through the trees. Bellowed orders. Crashing metal. And that haunting shriek the Anlu’kyr give out, the piercing sound hitting my ears like a sharp blade. Thick smoke drifts through the canopy, stinging my nose.

When I break from the bushes at the back of the mansion, the scene sobers me like a dunk in ice water.

The mansion burns. Raging fire swallows the Old Keep, bursting out from windows and licking up the stone. A black sea of leather-clad Blood Servants flood every corner of the grounds. The Guardians meander like brown floating dots, clearly overwhelmed.

The riotous noise is almost deafening. Crackles of Flame flash through the dimness, lighting gray wolves that slink between fighters’ legs. A giant brown bear struggles against two Blood Servants. Three Guardians with black-feathered wings fly over the fray, firing arrows into the crowd.

Tall silhouettes watch over the scene from Blackriver’s rooftop. Vampires.

I have no idea where to start or how to help. It’s chaos. The students in their loose gray uniforms run everywhere, some screaming, some fighting, some caught by servants and carried like sacks of rice. Aren’t they supposed to be safe in a basement somewhere?

A click sounds behind me. A sharp point pokes my back. “If you’ve come to finish us off, half breed,” a gruff voice says. “Think again.”

Mason.

Chapter 27

27

I raise my arms and shout over the din. “I’m here to help.”

Mason snorts. What I assume is his crossbow digs a little deeper into my skin. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“Flanagan sent me back.”