“This isn’t better!” Desandra snarled.

I lunged between them and Nick. Robert landed next to me.

Derek chopped at the wood with his tomahawk. The petrified vines held. The shapeshifters had resistance to diseases, but toxins could do them in.

Nick focused on us and began to spin the vines, faster and faster. I’d seen the technique before. Chinese chain whip, made of metal rods joined by rings. It was considered a soft weapon, but there was nothing soft about it and it took a hell of a lot of concentration to keep it going.

“Ascanio, run around him and throw rocks.”

The bouda dashed to the side.

“Divide and conquer,” Robert murmured.

“Let’s do that.”

We spread out. Nick kept spinning the whips. They encased him, a weapon and a shield at once.

I feinted forward. The whip sliced my boot, ripping it, but not cutting through.

“Get me out!” Desandra roared.

“I’m trying,” Derek snarled, hacking at the vines.

I hurled a throwing knife. It glanced off the vine whips. I could use a power word, but it would both drain me and announce to Hugh our exact location. Power words had a lot of magic echo.

A rock smacked against Nick’s back. Ascanio ran around us in a circle, hurling chunks of ice and concrete at him.

Robert attacked, zigzagging and twisting like a dervish. Nick snapped the vines at him. Robert dodged. His knuckle knives sliced at the whips. The left vine slid off onto the ice and instantly dried. Nick spun toward Robert. I dove into the opening, sliding on the ice, and buried my sword in his side.

He twisted and kicked me, ramming his knee into my ribs just as I straightened. My bones screamed, cracking. Robert jumped and kicked at Nick’s head. Nick dodged. The whip coiled around me and I sliced at it before it caught me. Nick leaped backward like an acrobat, once, twice, and landed twenty feet away. Two new vine whips slid from his chest.

I flicked the blood off my sword. Robert straightened. My ribs were on fire. A dark red wound marked Nick’s right side. Blood slid from it, wetting his skin. I hadn’t hit anything vital. He’d live, especially with Hugh around to heal him.

Nick dodged a chunk of dirty ice flying at his head. Ascanio hurled another, and Nick spun his new vines, knocking it aside. We just had to keep Nick moving. The more he spun his whips, the more he would bleed.

“How far will you go?” I asked. “What won’t you do for him? Would you kill us for him?”

Nick looked at me, his eyes cold. “Whatever it takes.”

I had my answer. He wouldn’t break his cover. Fine. We’d bleed him out, nice and slow.