“They want something from us,” he says. “They killed Charlotte and Ambrose and haven’t touched the others. They know what they’re doing, or at least the numa who are controlling them do. If we give them what they want, I’m sure they’ll let them go.”

“Odette must be terrified,” Kate says, angrily wiping away a tear. The mama tiger look in her eye would scare me to death if I weren’t on her side.

“When we get there, you get Odette out of the way,” she says to Vincent. Turning to me and Arthur, she says, “The two of you get Georgia and Mamie. Once you have, I’m going to hurt them.”

Then she walks out the door.

I tie the steel-toed boots Jeanne has set out and buckle a belt with multiple leather sheaths around my waist. Jeanne hands me a guitar case.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Gaspard had me pack this for you last week,” she says. “In case of attack. A sword, two short katanas and several daggers. He says they’re your best weapons.”

I nod, realizing that my workouts aren’t just to build strength. Gaspard must use them to gauge my progress with different weapons. It’s probably why he and Ambrose have me working with a rotating inventory of arms.

This fight is what they’ve been preparing me for. It’s what I’ve been preparing myself for with all of the weapons practice I’ve done on my own for the last few years. With a stab of insecurity, I wonder if I’m ready.

“Let’s go,” Arthur says.

With no time to hesitate, I pick up the case packed with weapons and follow him out the door.

Chapter Twenty Two

It takes us five minutes to drive to the park, with Arthur expertly taking random side streets to avoid traffic. He swings into an illegal delivery spot, and we leap out and sprint toward the park. The only people we pass are joggers who pay no attention to the leather-clad “musicians” sprinting with instrument cases toward the park.

I spot Kate and Vincent ahead of us as we pass through the gates. We follow as they turn right and run through a narrow passageway cut through a high wall of neatly-trimmed hedges.

My heart jumps to my throat when I see what lies behind the screen of greenery. It’s like a particularly gory Hollywood film. A man I don’t recognize lies across the grass in a pool of blood. His head is split open like a melon. I feel sick. Like I’m going to throw up or pass out, take your pick.