It's easier said than done, trying to rest while the sun slides closer to the horizon. I'm back in the bedroom I slept in last night, fingers tangling together while I stare out the window. Everyone else is asleep, except for Gideon and Rhys, who are expanding the wards, and Maya, who's with them to make sure they don't kill each other. Gideon tried explaining the work to me before they left, but my eyes glazed over by the time he reached terms like pulse-rate activation.

Thoughts jangling together, I push myself up, too edgy to stay still another moment. After wandering through the house once or twice to get a sense of the layout, I start poking around rooms with open doors. Most are bare or stuffed with old furniture, but eventually I find one that looks like a library, the rows of stand-alone shelves turning the room into a maze of books.

My steps remain aimless as I wander along, trailing fingers along spines, looking for anything interesting. But when they find the vampire book Gideon had earlier, I jerk away, remembering how the mere sight of its illustrations sent me reeling. Then I flush. What kind of coward am I, avoiding a fucking book? Hand still shaking, I reach for the spine again. But just before grabbing it, I hear a small, scraping noise from somewhere else in the room.

After an instinctive glance out the nearest window to make sure the sun still hangs on the horizon, I move toward the sound, keeping as quiet as possible while weaving between shelves.

Oh, shit, it's Desmond Healy, boots shifting against the floor as he lounges in an overstuffed chair, the only one I see in this room. He fiddles with a piece of metal, so intent on it that the cigarette hanging from his mouth has an inch-long cherry. I have one moment to hope for slipping away without being noticed, but at my first step back, his head jerks up, eyes picking me out from the shadows and shelves in the space of a breath. His pupils dilate in surprise. "Well, now."

"Sorry," I say, quickly. "I didn't know you were in here."

He grins, taking the cigarette from his mouth to flick it free of ash. "What's the matter, can't sleep without your teddy bear?"

Guess that means Odalis already blabbed about what she saw between me and Gideon. And probably what I told her afterward, too. I must make a face, because he adds, "Forget about keeping secrets when you're in a pack." Then he tosses his work to the table beside him.

"Yeah, well." My gaze follows the movement to avoid looking at his face, and I get a good look at the piece of metal, which is twitching at the sound of my voice. "Fuel!"

Fuel, reduced to a bent, broken mass of metal scales barely holding themselves together as a necklace. Remembering the photo of Mrs. Kent that Agent Slake showed me, my heart starts racing.

Desmond looks from the struggling familiar to me. "You know this little creature? I found it straggling up against our border. Went ahead and brought it back to clean out the magic from the metal and see what can be used for scrap. Is it yours?"

I shake my head. "No, but I know—knew—who it belonged to. Clarice Kent, a mech witch. Fuel was her familiar."

"Then you're the one it must be looking for. A familiar won't go off on its own except to search for a new witch."

"No, that can't be right; I'm a dud. Metal is totally dead to me. But Mrs. Kent was always very good to me and Gran. And she always got my jokes. Maybe Fuel remembers that." I don't realize I'm smiling until Desmond suddenly leans forward, resting his arms on his knees as he studies my face. Even in the dim light of the room, his eyes look bright and clear as glass, their color slipping from blue to green.

The scrutiny makes me uncomfortable, and I can't help fidgeting. "Anyway, what are you going to do with Fuel?"

Finally, he glances away to pick up the familiar again. His fingers resume pushing and pulling it back into shape, but most of his attention stays on me. "Funny thing. This little creature was spelled to record its route. Very sly use of magic, whoever did it. The vampire would've crushed it for sure if he'd known about this spell. It'd be interesting to see where it led back to, yeah? Maybe even the vampire's dumping ground."

My gaze jumps to his face. "You're saying Fuel could show us?"

"Could show anyone, once I transcribe the sigils into something non-witches can read." Then he winks and adds, "Nice way to prove you're innocent, anyway."

"What about you?"

"Me? I'm never innocent."

When I don't laugh, he stretches and gets up from the chair. "That was a joke, darling."

"I guessed as much." I hold my ground as he steps closer, but my heart speeds up, again. He's leaner than Gideon, but every step he takes is filled with a barely-contained wildness. Not to mention, I saw him rip apart a feral pig. If we ever get into a fight, it'll be a hard one.

He stops about a foot away, the lines of his body relaxed, easy. "I've traveled around. I can recognize an Amstar accent when I hear it. Bet you grew up in one of the western cities."

I eye him, trying to figure out where he's going with this. "Yep. We lived near Orion. The outskirts of the city."

"Fuck me, no wonder you're terrified of being around brutes. The wolf packs there..." He lets out a low whistle that suggests disbelief and disgust better than any words. "In a world of their fucking own. I can't take all their little rules and roles, myself; alpha does this, pack does that. But it's the bitches I feel sorry for; they're treated so much like property, I'm surprised they're not pissed on."

His tone of voice grates on me; it's like he's trying to soothe a frightened bunny. "I wouldn't know. Gran never let us mingle with inner city wolves. She thought they were all criminals. So don't patronize me; I'm not edgy because I never had a nice wolf boy to show me you're not all like that. That's not the kind of fear I got. And I think I liked you better when you tried getting in my pants just by dropping your own. Not that I liked that much, either."

I regret the words as soon as they're spoken out loud, sure that he'll blow up. He looks stunned, smile gone, but then it comes back slowly, revealing his teeth. "Too bad, as I think I like you even more, now."

Then he shakes himself, mouth closing into a polite, neutral line. "All right, so you don't fancy me as the most incredible fuck you'll ever have. Anything else you want to clear up before sundown?"

I give another nervous glance out the window. "Not really. But since we're having a full-on confessional, what about you?"

I expect a smartass response, but to my surprise, he says, "He'll never get you, you know." And for once, he looks completely serious. Even his voice has dropped a notch, still quiet but adding a new rasp to the words. "You were excited, watching that pig die; I smelled it coming off you in waves. I bet you never hunted even a fucking rat, but the urge is still here." He taps his chest, where his heart is.

I think back to the people I've killed so far. Only Laci left me tore up afterward; only Laci has me hurting hard when I let myself think about it. The others, well, I fought for my life against them, and having claws and teeth then felt good and right.

When I give him a grudging nod, he continues, blowing smoke out with his words. "But your teddy bear didn't like it. He wants things neat and clean. One day, you'll do something, and he won't be able to take it. He'll run back to his family and find a human who cries over picking flowers to live with."

"And then what? You'll be there, waiting to pick up the pieces?" Filling the words with sarcasm is hard, because I don't hear that indulgent, pat-on-the-head tone he tried with me, earlier. Now, he sounds almost sad. Like he has experience with what he's talking about.

He gives me a shrug in response. "Don't know about that. I just know when a human claims to want a wolf, what they really want is a dog."

Before I can say anything, he holds out his hand, revealing a sleek, rebuilt Fuel. Even I can admit he must be a damn good mech witch to do that so quickly. When I don't make any move closer, he raises his eyebrows. "If you want the little sprite, we have to shake hands, witch to witch. You can touch at least that much of me, can't you?"

After a moment, I reach out. His hand is warm, rough with calluses, and carefully not trying anything with mine. With a chirp, Fuel slides over my hand, claws tickling as it curls around my upper arm like a cuff.

"Thanks," I say, and try to step back.

But he holds on, studying my face again. "I would wait, you know. If you wanted me to. Do you believe that?"

"No," I say, honestly.

"Pity," he says, with a strange smile.

"For you?"

"For you. You must've known some useless dicks indeed if that's your immediate answer to a stranger." He lets go of my hand, then, and looks out the window. "Better get ready. Your aunt hates waiting for people."

The abrupt change in subject fucks me up almost as much as what he said just before, and I jump on the chance to get out of there, wondering despite myself why his words shook me up so badly.

#

For the first hour after dusk, I'm so tense that if someone poked me, I'd probably fall over. We're all in human form, waiting at the same spot where the pack first met me and Gideon. It makes a great vantage point, I realize, showing the huge spread of land beneath the mountain and beyond. Or it would, if the moon was full enough to throw strong light. Instead, we make do with spelled lamps hovering in the air above us, as well as the fact that any wink of a car's headlights will be seen in the otherwise vast darkness.

Gideon and I sit on the hood of the pack's truck, hands locked together. Maya, Odalis, and Nohemi wait on the ground in front of us, occasionally stretching or pacing, but never talking. Desmond and Rhys perch on the roof of the truck's cab, murmuring to each other off and on. Once, I hear Desmond snicker.

I'm hyper aware of everything while waiting. The crickets singing, invisible and everywhere. The smell of the engine sprites as they cool down along with the metal they live in. The pattern of Gideon's breathing, flat and too steady, like he's concentrating on keeping calm and still.

We're well into the second hour when Gideon suddenly moves against me, ink roiling along his skin. Everyone goes on alert.

"What is it?" says Maya, still scanning the gloom of the lands below.

Gideon hesitates. "I'm not sure. An INKtech agent I know is close by. Yet, he's not supposed to be."

"The fuck does that mean?" snaps Rhys, and the truck creaks as he shifts his weight into a crouch.

"His ink has an automatic check-in to INKtech's main database every three minutes; each one I've monitored sets his location somewhere in the Kingdom. Yet, the livefeed of his ink has a location stamp that suggests he's on this mountain at this very moment. Either he's manipulating the system, or working with it in an attempt to fool me. He should be fooling me." Gideon sounds baffled. "Livefeeds aren't accessible unless they're deliberately broadcasted."

"You're sensing him through the mountain," says Maya, motioning Desmond and Rhys down from the truck. "The leyline running through it picks up on any creature with magic."

Then Nohemi hisses in a breath. "Headlights."

Desmond jumps to the ground, pulling on a pair of goggles. He casually bites the tips of his first two fingers, tracing sigils on the lenses in his own blood. I blink, fascinated as the sigils gleam while spreading over the surface of each lens. Night vision? Binoculars? Whatever he did, it helps him quickly find what Nohemi points at.

"It's a game warden's truck," he says, finally. "Could just be out looking for poachers."

"Slake is moving closer," says Gideon, ink fully roused and flickering white.

Odalis starts to look excited. "Is the warden taking the main road?"

Desmond snorts. "Sure is. Guess the Kingsman got someone in the local government to drive him out here."

Even I can see the headlights by this point, faint and winking as the truck follows the curving trail up here. "Can you see faces, yet?"

"Driver looks like the typical game warden fuck. The passenger is wearing a suit. Middle-aged, fit, looks like he's never laughed in his life."

"Sounds like Slake," I mutter, as Gideon shifts beside me, watching the headlights intently.

There's a long, tense moment where it seems like no one knows how to react. Finally, Rhys says, "What if he's here only for the other inker? Just let him take the sack of shit."

"Fuck you," I growl, twisting to glare at him.

Maya's voice cracks through the air. "No fighting, you understand me? We're going to see what he wants."

It seems like an eternity before the truck reaches the final curve to us. The light from the lamps brighten to give us the best possible look at it and the people inside. I'm already starting to shiver, even with the feeling of Gideon solid against me.

"It is Slake," says Gideon, as the truck slows to a stop several yards from us.

Maya throws a sharp glance to each of us. "Desmond, Rhys. Be ready to pull up the field when I say so."

The pack stays focused on the passenger door as it opens, revealing Slake. But my eyes are stuck on the driver. His face is in shadow, protected from the overhead lighting by a baseball cap embroidered with the official game warden insignia, but as soon as I take in the lines of his shoulders and his stride as he walks up with Slake, I know. My stomach lurches. If I was trembling before, now it feels like I'm shaking apart.

"It's him," I manage, my voice coming out as a croak, hardly audible. Even so, a ripple goes through the pack. "That's Valentine."

Someone—Odalis?—growls, but it's Nohemi who leaves her position to join me, one hand finding my shoulder as Gideon moves closer to my other side.

Then Rhys snarls, but his focus is on the truck they pulled up in. "They brought along INKhounds."

Still avoiding looking at Valentine, I follow his gaze. Five or six wolfhounds wait in the back of the truck, sliding around each other in movements that are more like ink than flesh and blood. Occasional blue sparks flash along their ghostly white fur. My heart sinks. We're in such deep shit.

But there's no time to say anything, because Slake already speaks, badge brandished as he stops a foot or two away from where Maya and Odalis stand. "Good evening."

"What do you want, Kingsman?" Maya's voice sounds steady, unimpressed.

"My name is Slake. I'm an agent with INKtech. You have a fugitive agent in your territory, and I'm here to take him back to our organization. I'm also here to arrest one of your pack members, Ms. Phoenix Belmonte, for her role in his desertion. Warden Pierce is here to help me if necessary, as he has more experience with skin witches."

Gideon shakes his head. "You're making a mistake. She had nothing to do with my leaving. It was entirely my decision."

"Impossible on several levels," says Slake, coolly. "Although I can make only assumptions at this point about the exact spell she placed upon you, it's useless to deny your behavior was exemplary before you met her. Regardless, she is also a person of interest to a local murder investigation."

"I thought that was me," says Desmond, with a smile that shows all his teeth.

"Your time is coming," says Slake, without missing a beat. Then he gestures at me. "Ms. Belmonte?"

"Fuck you," I snarl, because I know the kind of lies he's telling, and how deep they go. I keep my eyes on him, because I'm too afraid to look over at Valentine, aware of how him just standing there silently makes me feel dizzy and weak, like he's already sucking blood out of me.

Nohemi squeezes my shoulder, either in reassurance or in warning, before she says, "What are you going to do with her?"

Slake doesn't even deign to look at us. All of his focus is on Gideon's churning ink. "She will be taken to the INKtech quarters in Glimmer to be interviewed, and then transferred to the local government for her part in their own case. Don't worry, she won't be harmed."

Gideon's ink lashes at that. "You're wrong, Slake. You're wrong about many things, but you're absolutely deluded to think I'll let you do to her even a tenth of what's been done to me."

Even Rhys looks startled at the venom in Gideon's voice, and I feel Nohemi pull me back as white sparks snap from his ink. And that's when it finally dawns on me how going with Slake would be bad even without Valentine standing there. Valentine wants to break me, but INKtech wants to make sure I'll never reveal any secrets Gideon might've told me. Ever.

As if sensing my new wave of panic, Valentine looks over, taking in my fear, drinking it up until I feel like my guts are tying into one big knot. Odalis must see what's happening, because she suddenly takes a step toward him, pulling his focus away from me.

But Slake noticed her movement, too, and a vague look of irritation crosses his face as he finally glances over the rest of the pack. "There truly isn't a place for debate here. If you delay me any longer, I have no choice but to arrest the entire pack for obstruction of justice."

There's a long, tense moment where I can sense the pack arguing among themselves, having conversations with each other through the tilt of a head, the shifting of weight from one foot to the other. Then, Nohemi's hand drops from my shoulder, and she moves back, eyes revealing nothing. I give her a blank look, hardly believing it.

As the rest of the pack drifts back from me and Gideon, Maya says, "I see there's no convincing you otherwise, so I won't try to."

Then she turns away, moving for the truck without a glance in my direction. Gideon's ink lashes. I'm too shocked to speak, feeling like she stabbed me, but there's no time to react, because Slake is rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own ink, his next words directed at Valentine. "Arrest her and take her back. I'll deal with my agent."

The world tilts at the sound of Valentine pulling out handcuffs from his uniform's utility belt, and I nearly gag. He's still playing the part of an uninvolved game warden who wants to go home as quickly as possible, but I know once he gets me back into a truck, I'm dead meat.

Then, I feel Gideon nudge me away. "Go on. Get out of here. I'll hold them off."

I've never felt so sick as Valentine steps closer, a hint of a smile on his face now that Slake isn't looking in his direction, but somehow I scrape enough guts together to glance at Gideon. "Right, you can hold off Valentine, and Slake, and those weird hound things. Forget it. I'm not leaving you. Would you leave me?"

I expect him to argue against that, but he hisses in a breath and says, "No."

Then our fingers twine together. I swallow hard. "Let's give them a hell of a fight."

Valentine holds up the cuffs; they gleam in the moonlight. "Hands behind your back, ma'am."

"You fucking leech." Hating how my voice trembles, I flash my teeth at him, aware of Slake's ink flaring in response.

That's when I hear a small click, and suddenly Gideon is yanking me back as an explosion goes off. I'm still looking at Valentine, and see black vampire blood seethe from his ruined stomach as he staggers back, fangs slipping out. Maya moves up next to me, holding a sawed-off shotgun. "We can't convince you, you stupid fuck, so we're going to show you."

Slake's ink flares, but Gideon's matches it, sending the agent stumbling back as Maya aims again. Valentine tries to scramble away, but his mess of a gut wound is smoking. She must've loaded the gun with silver shot. This time, I have enough presence of mind to cover my ears as she fires again. Valentine's face disappears, and now he's shrieking somehow, that same screech of rage I heard the night Gran shut the door on him.

I'm frozen, still in shock as Desmond and Rhys race past us, crouching on the ground to scrawl sigils of blood in the earth.

"C'mon, throw it up!" roars Maya, and then there's a wall of translucent light separating us from Valentine and Slake.

Her next words are aimed at Slake, who works with his ink, hand shaking as Valentine's body lunges toward him, mutilated head morphing into warped jaws and masses of teeth. "There's your killer, Kingsman. Not my niece. Not my pack member."

My heart pounds. Even though I don't like Slake—I hate the asshole, in fact—seeing his ink grapple uselessly with Valentine's oncoming body is hard to watch. I glance up at Gideon, but his expression is unreadable, even when those godawful jaws sink into Slake's neck. And when he starts feeding, ignoring Slake's hands flailing against his ruin of a head, I have to look away, nausea filling up my gut.

"All right, he's distracted. Bring down the shield and get ready. Don't want him healing enough to push out the silver," says Maya, already stripping down. "Girl, be ready to jump in. The faster you get to that heart, the better. Glass, those hounds are all yours and so is the agent, if he's still alive. You better be as good as you say."

In response, Gideon's ink flares, creating white light that scorches through the air, striking the INKhounds like lightning bolts. Before they can even yelp, they're enveloped in a second, leaving behind a faint smell of ozone and a few scattered sparks.

"Fuck me," says Odalis, actually looking a little impressed as she throws her shirt to the side.

Then she's a wolf, running toward Slake and Valentine, whose head has already grown back. Her weight bowls Valentine onto his side. He snarls, but holds onto a weakening Slake long enough for her jaws to lock onto his arm. When Valentine growls and lashes out with his free hand, Desmond is there to snap at it, teeth finding a grip after two tries. Nohemi and Rhys rush in to grab his legs and hold them still, completely ignoring Slake as the agent crawls away, ink flickering unsteadily as he bleeds.

By the time Maya clamps onto his neck, I'm already pulling Fuel and the silver necklace off me, dizzy again from the terror and exhilaration over what I'm about to do. When I start over to them, claws already growing out, Gideon stops me with a brush of his hand. "Firebird," he says.

Just that word, because there's no time for anything more, but I know what he means, and give him a smile despite everything. "We got this."

Then, I'm running toward the pack. My body shudders in a wrong way when I try to do anything more than grow claws, but that's okay, that's all I need with the others holding him still. Nausea slides through me as my hand shoots into the wound in Valentine's stomach, blood and ripped flesh squelching around my fingers.

He snarls, but it's okay, I can ignore his attention now that there's something to do. My claws rip him up even more, digging under his ribcage until the broken bones scrape against my arm, until cold, wet organs shift under my hand. It's a slippery, fucked-up job, and he hisses things at me the entire time.

"Think doing this will solve anything? It won't make up for the ones you failed to save."

"Shut up." I feel a swell of sickness as my hand keeps searching for the heart. My fingers brush a rope of intestine, maybe part of a lung.

"It won't make up for the ones you killed."

"Shut up!" I growl, dimly aware of ink flickering and flaring behind me, lighting up the night. Risking a glance back, I see Slake leaning against the hood of the game warden truck, bloody as hell and ink reduced to a glimmer while Gideon stands in front of him, his own ink bright and sharp while they argue. A warning growl from Odalis pulls me back. I try to concentrate, still groping for that fucking heart.

Then Valentine speaks again, words low and rasping. "You'll still know what I feel like inside you."

Teeth grinding against my lip, I keep fumbling, hearing growls go up from the rest of the pack at those last words. Desmond is the closest one to me, and I can feel the muscles in his neck bulge as his jaws work, gnawing through flesh until I hear the dull snap of bone.

Valentine shrieks and flails, nearly throwing me off, but when he speaks again, there's as much glee as desperation in his words. "And if you kill me now, you'll never find Melanie Burnett."

I jerk at that, wavering, but Maya snarls and bites down harder on his neck, sending him arching up with a snarl. Everything in his chest cavity shifts at the motion, and that's when I feel it slide against the tips of my claws. His heart. I recognize it instinctively, even though I can't see anything in the mess of black blood and slime. My fingers clutch it convulsively, and then I'm ripping it out into the open, some part of me amazed at how easy it is.

Sinking my claws in, I squeeze that fucker as hard as possible.

Valentine howls, body twisting savagely enough to send Nohemi and Desmond flying. For one moment, my own heart stutters, sure that he'll break free, but then they rush back, biting down again and holding on. All he can do is scream things I'm no longer listening to.

It's hard keeping this up, even though the heart feels flabby with disuse. It smells like sickness, like rot, and blood comes out in uneven drips and splatters, running down my arms in bright red trails that look nothing like the black slime he usually bleeds. Pretty soon my hand starts shaking, and I switch to my other one. I don't know how much time passes; all I'm aware of is the growling and scuffling from the pack, and Valentine, growing weaker with each breath but still making noise.

I'm not sure how I pick out the yell from everything else filling my senses, but something about it makes my skin prickle. For the first time since I felt it in my claws, I look up from the heart. Rhys is gone. So are the streams of light from Gideon's ink.

My lungs lock up as I stagger to my feet, ignoring Nohemi's yelp and turning to where I last saw Gideon and Slake.

Slake is still there, struggling to stand up despite his torn-up neck. Panic spikes through me when I see his ink gleaming brightly again. Did he win out over Gideon? But then I take in the haggard shock on his face, and follow his gaze to see...

Gideon struggles with Rhys, pinned under the wolf's weight as he fights to free his arm from Rhys' jaws. A scream shreds my throat when I see Rhys has ripped through the patterns of ink, reducing the living tattoo to light sparking across mangled flesh. Gideon's free hand claws at Rhys' face, but he doesn't flinch, doesn't let go, even when Gideon sinks a thumb into one of his eyes. He won't stop until Gideon is dead.

Or until he is.

The heart drops from my hand as I run for them, my body burning with rage, throbbing with that familiar sickness of an oncoming change. They're yards away, and I leap, knowing I'll never make it in time otherwise, bones twisting and grinding in mid-air. I land awkwardly, fur and muscle still surging together, but in the next moment my claws find Rhys' neck and dig in deep, making him yelp and let go. I haul him up into the air and roar in his face as his ears flatten in panic, baring teeth red with Gideon's blood. I'll crush him. I'll rip him open and leave his guts hanging. The sound of Gideon shouting hardly penetrates my red haze.

But the popping noise does. It sounds like someone snapping their fingers, so incongruous that it startles me out of my rage. Rhys screams, his blood suddenly splattered on my fur. That's when I see Slake weaving on his feet, something gleaming in one hand. Another popping noise, and I stagger, feeling a wave of weakness hit me in the stomach and spread outward. As sudden pain flares, I look down to see blood running from the fur on my belly. Rhys squirms free, falling to the ground and tearing at his bleeding shoulder with his teeth. Only then do I stupidly realize Slake's holding a gun, and that he just shot us both.

My entire body cramps around the bullet. Fuck, it must be silver. The change blisters through me, and I end up on my knees with one hand over my belly, too disoriented to care that I'm naked in front of Slake. He steps closer. His neck looks like fucking hamburger, but his hand remains steady as he aims at me again. It feels impossible to breathe through the pain, let alone dodge a bullet, so I just stare back into those dull, pale eyes, waiting for him to pull the trigger.

A blur of metal attacks his hand. It's Fuel, buzzing and biting him to distraction, absorbing pieces of metal from the gun to dismantle it bit by bit with each swoop. Slake's ink flares, but he's too weak to send anything more than sparks after Fuel, who dodges them easily and keeps biting.

Despite the growing shock of pain, I twist around, looking for Gideon. Instead, I see Rhys stalking up to me, teeth ready to rip. Every part of me seethes at the sight of Gideon's blood staining his fur, but the bullet wound holds me down each time I try to get up.

"Did you kill him?" I say hoarsely, unable to do more than bare my teeth. "You sack of shit, did you kill him?"

But Rhys suddenly backs away, whining, and when Odalis rushes past me, I realize why. She bowls into Rhys with a snarl, and a second later Desmond is there, too, going after Rhys' throat even when he starts screaming.

As they keep fighting, I hear a yelp, and manage to pull myself around in time to see Maya and Nohemi struggling to keep Valentine down as he tries to get to his heart, both on his arms now that the other three wolves are gone. I don't even know if Gideon's still alive, but if I don't crush that heart, we're all dead.

I crawl toward it. The wound in my belly is a stab of agony that takes away most of my breath, and with each second that passes, I'm sure that Slake will find the power to burn me down to ash or do something as equally awful. Light flares just as I reach for the heart, and I flinch. But then warmth shoots up my arm, giving me hope that, despite everything, it's Gideon. No time to look, though, because Valentine and I are both inches from his heart. When I grab that disgusting blob of muscle again, my hands can't even grow out claws. But something in me refuses to give up, and I scrape together every last ounce of energy to squeeze more blood from it.

Valentine jerks, somehow ripping his arm free of Nohemi's grip. With all my strength focused on the heart in my hand, I can't resist as he grabs the back of my neck, pulling me close to whisper against my ear.

"It's not over," he rasps, black slime bubbling from his lips to slide down the side of my face. "Every night, I'll still be with you. Waiting in your dreams."

I snarl and rake his head with my free hand, but he holds on tight and gives me a light kiss on the temple, like it's a promise.

Every muscle in my arm burns, but somehow I squeeze his heart even harder. "Fucker, you're going straight to hell."

Fresh blood runs down my arm. Then, a thick clot emerges from one of the torn arteries, falling to the ground with a heavy plop. The areas of muscle against my claws suck inward just as Valentine screams, somehow arching up despite Maya and Nohemi throwing their weight against him. I hold onto the heart even as his nails scrape against my neck, even as his shrieks turn into choking and his face sinks into his skull. I hold on as his body flakes away, the wind catching each fleck of ash and carrying it into the night. I hold on until there's nothing left except a dark smear of burnt ground and two small, white objects that gleam pearly white. Only when I feel the stringy muscle collapse into cold, gritty ash do I dare to open my hand.

By that time, Maya is beside me, back in human form and breathing raggedly. She tries catching me as my legs give out, but I still end up limp on my back while blood trickles from my belly in cold trails. "Goddamn it, girl. You better have kept enough energy to stay alive."

Her voice sounds angry, but under those gruff words, I hear panic, too. Maya, scared? I must really look like shit. Small claws prickle against my arm. Fuel chirps anxiously, playing with my hair just like it always did back at the kitchen table in Mercywing. I must fuzz out, then, because even though I hear voices after that, I can't make out exact words. Flashes of light sear the air, but there's nothing left to get me up and fighting. All I can do is breathe against the pain while stars swim in the sky. I've seen them like this before, somewhere. That night in the desert. When Gideon... "Gideon!"

I don't realize I'm jerking up until hands push me back down. Not just Maya's; Nohemi is now on my other side, watching worriedly as Maya says, "For fuck's sake, girl. You have a gut wound, and the bullet was silver."

But I won't stop until they give me an answer. "Where is he?"

"Over with Slake, keeping him locked down." That's Odalis, voice sounding rougher than usual. As her face swims into view, she adds, "Your boy's fine. Never seen a human heal like he can. I'm not sure he can even die."

I swallow. "And Rhys?"

"Chased away." Something flickers in her eyes, and then she suddenly snarls. "I told him. I fucking told him what I'd do if he tried something."

"Forget that bobo for now," says Nohemi, suddenly looking up. "Here comes a car."

Headlights slice over us, blinding me for several breaths. I grimace, willing my eyes to clear so I can find out what the fuck is going on. But when they do, there's only one person bent over me. Marrow.

The salve witch smiles despite the concern in her eyes. "Looks like we were too late to help with the vampire, but you did fine on your own. I tucked the teeth away for you, but we'll talk about that another time."

"Thought you were good as dead," I mumble, trying to pick out the background noise. I think I hear voices, some quiet, others sharp and angry, and maybe the sound of a truck engine rumbling.

Marrow raises her eyebrows. "Nearly. Lucky that I'm dating a bone witch. She came here with me, in case others needed her magic."

"Do I?" Because I really feel like shit, dizzy and shivering, and heavy in my torso.

"We'll see." The reply doesn't come from Marrow, but a woman with a thin, angular face surrounded by thick, wild hair. Her eyes are black and calm as she adds, "I'm Eskarne. It's a pleasure to meet Bero's daughter."

"You're no wolf," I mutter, as she leans over me.

"Crow. But I work with plenty of wolves, your dad included. We'll talk about that later, yes? Time to look at the damage and remove the bullet. Marrow can numb some of the pain, but not all of it. Be brave."

Then she carefully places my arms over my head, her touch cool and impersonal, so she and Marrow can move closer to my torso. One of them peels back a blanket that I wasn't aware was placed on me, and then Marrow goes to work on extracting the bullet. It mostly feels like a lot of poking and pressing on my belly, and my wound doesn't like it at all. I try to focus on breathing and keeping quiet, but suddenly Marrow's hand hits a spot that makes me feel like my guts are tearing apart, and I yelp.

The sound hushes the voices in the background. I hear quick footsteps, and Eskarne looks up from me, her movements suddenly sharp and feral. Then she relaxes a little. "Ah. Marrow told me about you. No worries, she's not that close to death. Hold her hand if you want, but stay by her head to keep out of our way."

In the next moment, ink prickles against my palm as a hand folds against mine. I blink up at Gideon, my fingers convulsively clutching his. He's bloody and disheveled, but when I crane my neck to look at his arm, all I see is ink rippling smoothly along unbroken skin. "You're okay."

He nods, hand tightening against mine. "Are you?"

Before I can answer, Eskarne raises her eyebrows at him. "Of course not; she's been shot."

My mind finally hits on the most obvious question. "What happened to Slake?"

"We're watching the fuck," comes Desmond's seething reply. I shift my head a little, enough to look through the small space between all the bodies surrounding me. Even from this angle, I can see Desmond, wearing nothing but jeans as he glares at Slake, who now has a motherfucker of a scar on his neck. His ink has dimmed to faint lines.

Maya and Nohemi wait nearby, fully-dressed and brimming with tension, but it's Odalis who snaps, "Why don't you just go? You think it's safe, waiting with us?"

"I'm afraid I must stay," says Slake, his voice hoarse but calm.

Nohemi snarls like I've never heard her. "Kingsman, you better get out of here before I find out whether you've killed my niece."

"Believe me, I want to. I shall certainly leave the girl alone for now, as I fully believe her overall role in this situation needs to be re-evaluated before any further action is taken," he says, touching the side of his neck gingerly. Then he gestures at Gideon. "Yet, I won't go without my agent."

My fingers tighten against Gideon's as panic spikes through me. But he doesn't move an inch, or even glance toward Slake. And when he speaks, his voice sounds cold and even. "We both know I'm no longer under INKtech's control. I won't leave."

"Agent, I realize she's put some sort of spell over you, but surely—"

"It's not a spell," he snaps, finally twisting toward Slake. "I love her."

If my stomach wasn't a fucking mess, I think I'd feel a flutter at hearing that. In Slake's direction, there's only a silence brimming with bafflement. Then, the other agent sighs. "Glass, please. It's time to go home."

I'm breathing funny again, and Marrow notices, because she looks toward Slake and growls, "He is home. I trained with his aunt barely a hundred miles from here, and saw him plenty of times when we were both kids. Your agent is a Montero through his mother. Now will you leave? You're aggravating my patient."

After a short pause, Slake says, "You can't be sure of that, as seeing a child is—"

But Maya interrupts him. "Stop acting like a fool. He's able to tap into the raw leyline under this mountain. Desmond can't. Rhys couldn't. Glass can. It takes someone with witch blood from this area to do that."

Goddamn, I wish I could better see the look on Slake's face. But when I try to twitch up, Marrow growls in frustration again. "Hold still. The bullet is nearly out, and then we can move you back to the house."

Slake makes another attempt. "I have orders."

Maya just shrugs. "We know that. I called a good friend of mine earlier, a big columnist in your land and others. We traded information. He's a cat witch, curious even though I told him everything I knew. He'll dig for more. Your secrets are spilling out, Kingsman, and your orders will be changing real soon."

I want to listen to more, want to imagine Slake squirming under the realization that the scummy wolf witches pulled one over him, but I'm feeling dizzy again, the voices blurring inside my head as jolts of pain go through me from Marrow's prodding.

"Marrow," says Eskarne, blandly. "I'll have to take over if we don't stop the bleeding soon. She's moved within my reach."

I think that means I'm suddenly closer to dying. Marrow says something to me, voice sharp, but I'm past listening. The only clear thing at this point is Gideon's ink, bright and hot against my hand. Even as the rest of my surroundings fade to black, I cling to it, hoping it's enough to keep me steady through the swelling darkness.