Shapeshifters burst from the hole in the Keep wall. The first shapeshifter, a lean wolf in warrior form, reached the leading plaguewalker. Ten feet from it, the wolf collapsed, clawing at his face. Another shapeshifter, another fall.

Where the hell was my stupid horse?

The plaguewalkers moved forward. Arrows flew from the Keep and sank into the plaguewalkers, but they kept going. They would keep walking, just like that, until they walked straight into the Keep.

A huge Kodiak bear charged through the shapeshifter ranks. The leading plaguewalker raised his hand.

I heard Curran roar.

Lesions split Mahon’s hide. He kept running, too fast, too massive to stop. Pus slid from the wounds, falling to the ground.

I was running as fast as I could.

The bear tore into the plaguewalkers. The massive paw crushed the first one’s skull.

All of Mahon’s fur was gone now. Pus drenched his sides. The great bear of Atlanta spun and slapped the second plaguewalker’s head. The creature’s skull cracked, like a broken egg.

The third plaguewalker raised his hands. A stream of foul magic poured from it. The flesh on Mahon’s sides rotted away. Bone gaped through the holes. Oh my God.

The bear threw himself onto the last creature and missed, collapsing. I lunged between the plaguewalker and Mahon. The creature stared at me, its eyes glowing green dots on a rotting face.

I sliced. The plaguewalker flitted away, as if made of air.

The blood armor on my hands turned black. Bits of it began to chip away.

I thrust Sarrat into the plaguewalker’s chest and withdrew. Foul slime dripped off the blade. The creature seemed no worse for wear. I wasn’t doing enough damage.

Curran landed atop the plaguewalker and locked his hands on the creature’s shoulders. The plaguewalker shrieked. Curran’s hands blistered. He roared and tore the creature in half. The pieces of the plaguewalker’s body went flying.

The first corpse was re-forming.

“Curran!” I screamed, pointing with my sword.

He spun around. The first plaguewalker was rising like a zombie from a horror movie.

A white tiger landed next to us. Dali opened her mouth and roared. Magic emanated from her, sliding over me like an icy burst of clear water. The pieces of the plaguewalkers rose up, melting as if the air itself consumed them.

She purified them. Wow.

I dropped to the ground by Mahon. The Bear shrank into a man. The skin on his torso was missing. His hands and face were a mess of boils. Oh God. Oh my God.

Curran, still in warrior form, knelt and cradled the dying man.

Mahon saw him. His lips shook. He struggled to say something.

“Best . . . son. Best . . . could ever have.”

“Shut up,” Curran told him. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Best . . .” Mahon whispered.

Nasrin knelt by Mahon, chanting.

Curran rose. His gaze fixed on my father’s chariot.

My father had to die.