The spell broke. The wendigo crashed down and I carved its side open, thrusting through the ribs into the spongy lungs within. Regenerate that, you sonovabitch. Slayer thrust through thick muscle, and a wet pop announced the stomach rupturing. The reek of acid and sulfur washed over me. Blood wet my hands, gushing down the wendigo’s side.

The massive creature shuddered, trying to rise.

Robert cut and gouged his way to the wendigo’s back. Bright human blood stained his fur. The alpha of the wererats sliced the translucent flesh, planted his feet, bent down, locked his fingers on an exposed rib, and pulled. Bone broke. He tossed the rib out, shoved his hand into the hole, pulled a handful of organ tissue out, and hurled it into the night.

I scrambled the wendigo’s human-looking heart with my blade. I minced its liver. I hacked its lungs into bloody paste. I severed its arteries. Pink, almost transparent blood sprayed me again and again, its taste burning on my lips. Above me Robert threw intestines onto garbage. I caught a glimpse of Desandra ripping into the wendigo’s body next to me.

Suddenly the massive horrifying head sagged over, hanging from the stump of the neck by a thin thread of flesh. With one final blow, Derek sliced through it, and the head fell to the ground. Derek landed next to it, kicked the skull, sending it rolling down the trash-choked street, and fell like a chopped-down tree.

His body shivered and shrank back to human.

A few yards away Ascanio cried out on the ground, naked, human, and bloody. Everything inside me went cold. Their injuries were so bad, the Lyc-V had shifted them back to human as it strained to heal them.

I knelt by Derek and pulled his head up. He was out, but he was breathing. The wounds on his hands had stopped bleeding and I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

“Kate!” Desandra called, her voice shaking.

I ran to her.

Long gashes carved Ascanio’s chest and stomach. Wet intestines gaped through the gashes, weeping blood. His skin split where shards of broken ribs had punctured it. His face was bloody. He breathed in short sharp gasps. Oh God.

“Fix him!” Desandra looked at me.

I couldn’t. He was gone too far. We had to get a medmage. We had to get one now.

Ascanio’s gaze fastened on me. “So . . . sorry.”

“Don’t talk now.” We couldn’t load him onto the donkey. There was no room.

“I . . .” Ascanio swallowed and coughed out blood. He looked so young. “I don’t . . . Want to die. Please.”

“You’re not going to die.” I was getting much better at lying.

“Sorry,” Ascanio whispered. “Sorry.”

“Yes, you are. When we get to the Keep, you’ll be even sorrier. What the fuck were you thinking?”

He tried to smile, his teeth bloody. “. . . buy Broody . . . some time.”

Oh, you young fool.