Nick and his father turn stricken faces to the back of the cave. Davis is slack-jawed, but drained and on his knees, Nick takes the scene in all at once: the human mimic goruchel. Whitty’s broken body. Me in the demon’s arms. “BREE!”

“Take up the sword, Nicholas!”

“No!” I manage to scream. “He—will end—the Lines!”

Nick’s hands ball to fists. “If you kill her,” he grinds out, eyes like fire, “I will never touch this blade!”

“You must think I’m bluffing,” Rhaz says—and in a blink he is gone.

Not gone. He has Russ by the throat. He lifts him high—and pitches him like a fastball straight into a stone wall.

It happened so fast, Russ didn’t even get a chance to scream.

We watch as his body falls twenty feet into a crumpled heap.

Felicity shrieks and launches herself at Rhaz—Tor and Sar reach her first, but it takes both of them, Vaughn, and Greer to keep her down.

Before I can move, Rhaz has me around the middle again.

“Let Arthur Call you, Nick! Or I’ll snap her—”

A blue-white dagger hits him in the throat.

His fingers fly to the handle of the blade. He makes a gargling sound and pitches face-forward into the water.

With a piercing screech, a huge eagle owl dives into the cave from a tunnel. Quick and silent, it melts into the shape of a man as it drops to the ground.

A shape I recognize immediately: Selwyn Kane, Merlin and Kingsmage of the Southern Chapter.

A sorcerer—with the ability to shapeshift.

Sel stands, eyes blazing, and stalks to the moat. He hauls Rhaz up by the neck; blood drips from the demon, turning the water the color of rot. Sel inspects the unmoving body, a low growl rising out of his clenched teeth, and then drops it.

The hellcreatures yowl and snap, but without Rhaz to command them, they don’t make a move.

Felicity breaks free and runs to Russ’s body, tears streaming down her face. Her sobs echo throughout the cave, loud and painful and broken.

Which is just the distraction Rhaz was waiting for.

Alive and furious, he launches out of the moat and onto Sel’s back. They roll over and over in the water, grunting and striking in a blur of limbs.

Then the demon has both hands around Sel’s throat. The Kingsmage claws at the demon’s fingers for breath, kicking.

I run, but Tor and Sarah streak past me.

Rhaz is too fast; he sees them approaching.

He wrenches Sel’s head down just as his knee snaps up—a crack, blood—Sel’s limp body sinks into the water.

Suddenly, Nick’s scream echoes, the sound of agony everywhere. He writhes under the weight of Arthur’s Call. He’s losing the battle.

Rhaz grins. “That’s it, Nickie.”