With a gesture, Rasputin signals the two minions he’d assigned to watch me, directing them to rejoin their brethren while he moves to face Viviane himself. Jude evaluates the change in lineup, his gaze moving from us to the cage with my parents in it, and, back among the birches, Gunnar is doing the same. I can practically hear the fuse sizzling as the tinderbox prepares to blow, and still the guest list isn’t full yet.

The spark jumps suddenly, the twenty-one vampires of the Northern Wolf snapping their jaws open and hissing in unison—and then it’s bedlam in Colgate Woods. All three factions surge together, a storm of teeth and claws and golden eyes, flesh tearing and bones shattering in a grotesque symphony. Those four Syndicate vampires finally make their move on me, but Viviane and Rasputin both whirl, lunging to intercept the attack. Their magic crackles, smoke threading under the moon as they streak through the air.

The Syndicate vampires don’t stand a chance. The first quite literally loses his head, as well as a few vertebrae, when Rasputin decapitates him bare-handed—and the others fare no better. In two swift moves, Viviane produces a hidden stake, diving under one man’s arm to thrust it into the chest of another. Then, she swings back in the same motion, impaling the first as he spins around to face her. Both enforcers drop to the ground, already rotting, just as the Mad Monk is polishing off his second victim.

The decks cleared, the two faction leaders eye each other again—and charge. More smoke rolls across open ground as they finally clash together in a furious display of feints and strikes. Their back-and-forth movements are hypnotizing, violence as choreography, feet and claws meeting like swords in a fencing match. My time is running out, I can feel it, but I stay put. Jude and Gunnar are both fighting their way closer to the traveling cage, and I can’t go anywhere until I know my parents are safe.

Three of the four groups that have been stalking me these past weeks are currently on the field—and there’s no warning when the last domino lands, and the missing faction that I’ve been expecting finally joins the fray. Viviane and Rasputin wheel suddenly apart, and the cleric reaches out in the nick of time, his grip stopping a fiery arrow an instant before it hits him. His eyes go from shocked to understanding, and then more arrows hurtle across the night sky, flames licking the stars and plunging down.

“Brotherhood!” One of the vampires shouts. Bodies are hit, the blazing missiles surging on impact, and the undead begin to scatter in panic. The first salvo is followed by a second, arrows crisscrossing overhead, their trajectory seeming to anticipate the disarray. More targets are struck, flames engulfing them with unnatural speed—but I hold my ground.