“You try anything and I’ll shoot you!” the man with the gun screamed at us. The bleeding corpse behind him was dragged off, and the crowd carried it away. My gore rose, and I struggled to keep from vomiting. Trent? Where are Trent and Jenks? Jenks couldn’t fly. He’d be crushed.

“If you have any ideas ... ,” Al said, sitting cross-legged with his hands laced behind his head.

“No, not really.” I pulled my eyes from the slick smear of blood, wondering how many demons they’d killed so far. What the hell kind of an ending was this?

“Get up!” the man with the gun screamed. “I said, get up!”

Al stood, his expression far more placid than I would’ve expected. “Thank you for our freedom,” he said to me as the man with the gun cavorted before us, whipping the crowd up to bolster his own courage. “I will never understand why you cared.”

“I don’t like bullies,” I said flatly, and Newt smiled. The electric lights caught a glint in her eye, almost anticipatory. I knew she longed for an end, but this was wrong, so wrong.

“They will all die!” the man screamed. “All the demons. Magic is dead, and we will be safe! Safe from the freaks and unholy demons!”

They might kill me, but they would damn well listen to me first.

“Shut the hell up!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the noise as if it was supplemented by magic. The crowd heard me, and in the barest hesitation of their outrage, I added, “And get your stinking hands off me!”

Adrenaline was a silver ribbon, snapping through me as I plowed my elbow into the man holding me. Weight on my good leg, I spun to break his nose with my elbow, shoving him off the stage and into the crowd.

Al cried out in elation, his expression fearsome as he rose and moved in sharp, decisive motions, flipping the two who held him into the crowd. Like a banshee gone berserk, Newt howled, kicking at everyone who got close. Between them, no one dared try the stage, and in the sudden hush, I realized no one was up here anymore but us, the forgotten gun, and the man who had shot it, now huddling beside a huge amp.

Al paced back and forth, his steps red from stepping in blood. Newt held her hands out to me and I tried to get the plastic knots free. “I was beginning to think you might not make it in time,” she said dryly.

My heart was pounding, and I couldn’t feel my leg. “Who was that?” I asked, eyes darting to the blood smear. Behind us, the man who’d shot him cowered. His hand had bones sticking out, and the gun, now useless to him, lay tauntingly within reach.