Then for no discernible reason that Pan could determine, the demon went completely mad. It threw up its hands, clawed at its face, twisted its body this way and that, and screamed in a voice that was filled with pain and rage. It spun about like a scarecrow blown loose in a great windstorm; it thrashed as if a thousand bees were stinging it all at once. Its attack on Pan ceased altogether, and although weakened and battered by the demon magic the boy managed to scramble back to his feet.

Once righted, he acted quickly to refocus the magic of the black staff, gathering it to him, feeling its power surge and twist from the wood into his limbs and down into his body before reversing and then flowing back out again in a white-hot heat.

But in those few moments that it took Pan to pull himself together, the demon caught hold of whatever had been causing it such pain and flung it aside. There was a scarlet explosion on the morning air, as if something made of flesh and blood had been ripped apart. He heard Prue scream. Then one clawed hand, dripping with gore, gestured toward her, and the demon fire struck her a hammer blow and collapsed her like a rag doll.

Panterra Qu intervened a second too late to prevent it from happening, but fury fueled his effort and the black staff’s magic exploded into the demon. Yet somehow, even though it was staggered by the attack, the demon managed to remain upright. Face ripped to shreds, blood everywhere, the horror it had become twisted in a ghastly smile as it wheeled back on Pan, hands lifting for another assault.

Then Pan heard a bowstring release, and a black arrow struck the demon with such force that the steel tip sprouted from his chest. The creature gasped, staggered, and turned partway around as a second arrow buried itself in its throat.

Aislinne Kray stood at the entrance to the pass, a third arrow readied for use.

Pan struck out at their enemy again, and this time the staff’s magic caught the demon completely unprepared, striking him a massive blow and throwing him backward. This time, he couldn’t seem to recover before Pan had struck him again. Then struck him once again. Pan didn’t know if it was the aftershock of whatever had clawed the demon’s face or the damage caused by Aislinne’s arrows or the power of his own magic, but the cumulative effect was devastating.

The demon screamed, thrashing as the third arrow struck it. It staggered away in a futile effort to escape further injuries, but it was too late. Broken and battered, it dropped to its hands and knees, head hanging down, blood dripping from every part of it.