The assassins had arrived.

Twenty of them slid to the ground, covered in head-to-toe black gear. On their heads they wore black hoods and dark goggles. Leather gloves and boots protected their hands and feet. Not a centimeter of their skin was exposed.

They were impressively efficient. The vampires that didn’t burn quickly enough were staked. A few were decapitated with long, studded knives.

It was gruesome. Headless bodies burst into fire, skin and muscle flaking to embers in the wind generated by the helicopters. For a brief second, all that remained of them was a flash of blue flame where their heart should be, just before their ribs turned to ash and crumbled to the lawn.

Cyrus fled past me, the right side of his face scorched by the lights. “I’ll deal with you later! Run!”

But I couldn’t leave Ziggy to die alone. I struggled backward to the door, dragging him with me, as my sire ran to cowardly safety.

The assassins surged up the lawn in a lethal wave. A thin line of smoke wafted off of the top of the head of one of the assassins. He lifted a walkie-talkie to his face, mumbled into it, and the lights cut off in sync.

I searched the lawn frantically for any sign of Nathan. How would I find him when they were all dressed the same?

One of them pointed in my direction as I gained the door.

“Don’t hurt him!” I screamed, dropping Ziggy to the marble floor of the foyer. I laid across him, wincing at the rattle I heard in his chest. “He’s human! Don’t hurt him!”

Without a word, the killer reached down and lifted Ziggy’s legs before he barked at the others filing into the house. “I want a sweep of the grounds, and the house upstairs and down. Max, Amy, get the ground lights, and for God’s sake, let’s find the Soul Eater! Carrie, get him by the shoulders!”

It was Nathan.

Numb, I grabbed Ziggy under his arms. Seeing the doors were open, I nodded in the direction of the study. It was dark, but my eyes adjusted in time to guide Nathan to the corner farthest from the door. He eased Ziggy to the ground and whipped off his hood to examine the wound.

“It’s pretty bad,” I said softly. “Even if we got him in an ambulance now—”

“Shut up!” Nathan shouted, lifting Ziggy in his arms. “He’s gonna be fine. Aren’t you, kid?”

Ziggy’s head lolled to the side, and he choked on his blood as he struggled to speak. Only two words came out clearly. One was home.

The other was Dad.

“Yeah. We’re going home,” Nathan whispered, smoothing Ziggy’s hair back from his forehead. “Daddy’s got you, and we’re going home.”

I covered my mouth as a sob threatened to tear from my throat. Outside the door, a war waged. No one knew that in this room, a father held his dying son.

No one except us, and the Soul Eater.