The Walker smiled. “You really don’t think it will be that easy, do you?”
The air thickened behind them, white haze forming. Dense patches of mist formed all around them, and groups of fae materialized from the mist. Hundreds of them drew their swords in unison.
“Oh, shit,” Carl said. He raised the gun onto his hip. “Better hope your dad comes soon.”
“Don’t call him that,” Tara snarled, but her heart pounded as her gaze darted around her small group. Her hand slipped to the pistol at her waist, her fingers tightening on the grip to stop their trembling.
Panic clawed at her—she had led them into this. They were all likely to die, and it was her fault. A hand clasped hers. It was Jamie, her friend all her life, and she might just as well be murdering him. She squeezed his fingers. He pulled away. A moment later, he vanished, and the hellhound stood in his place.
She wished she could tell him to run, save himself, but knew he wouldn’t go.
“Looks like we’re on,” Piers muttered, stepping back and pushing her behind him. “Stay there, don’t—” He broke off as one of the fae leapt toward them. The roar of gunfire filled the night, and the fae collapsed to the ground. Tara stared in horror, but the body faded into mist and was gone.
The whole seething mass of bodies shifted toward them as one. The fae moved faster than she could follow, their blades gleaming in the dim light, only to be mown down by gunfire. But, however many crashed to the ground, more replaced the ones who vanished into the fog.
Everything slowed, until Tara could see the fierce expressions on their hauntingly beautiful faces as they lunged, the bullets as they cut through the bodies. The noise faded until she was cocooned at the center of a world gone to chaos. Legs braced, Piers and Carl stood in front of her, their guns spraying a continuous burst.
Tara crouched behind them, her pistol out, but couldn’t find a target. To her right, Jamie leapt for an incoming fae, knocking the sword from his hand and sending them both sprawling to the ground. He clamped the fae’s throat between his wicked jaws and shook his head, so the blood sprayed, hitting her in the face, warm and wet. On her other side, Graham stood with his eyes closed, gun held in his outstretched hand. One of the fae leapt toward him. Tara squeezed her trigger, and he went down.
Still more came.
They couldn’t win, and despair threatened to swamp her.
Christian wasn’t going to make it, and if he did, it would be too late. The fae kept coming, their swords drawn. She searched the sea of faces and found the Walker standing off to the side, watching through narrowed eyes.
And she knew what she had to do.
She straightened and took a step forward.
“Stop.” She spoke quietly, but Piers swung in her direction, his lips curled back, his expression savage.
The Walker’s gaze locked with hers and some unspoken agreement passed between them. He raised his hand…and everything stopped.
Piers swung to face her, his eyes accusing.
She swallowed. “I’m sorry. But I have to stop this. I never expected you all to die for me. I thought—”
What had she thought? That Christian would come along and save her? That her uncle would realize he didn’t want to murder her after all? That her father—well, what could she hope for from her father? Absolutely nothing.
She looked around at her friends. Carl bled from a wound in his arm; Jamie stood, head hanging down, his muzzle smeared with crimson. The others were untouched, but that wouldn’t last. She’d already lost Christian. She couldn’t lose more.
“It doesn’t matter what I thought, but it’s over.” She put a hand on Piers’s arm. “Stop this. I’ll go with him.” She heard a low growl from the hellhound. “Jamie, I can’t die knowing that I’ve caused your deaths as well.”
He whimpered, and Carl put a hand on the huge head. “I’ll look after him.”
“He’ll kill you,” Piers said.
Tara’s gaze took in the fae surrounding their small group. “Can you honestly say there’s any chance that I’ll live, anyway?”
Piers followed her gaze. “Maybe not, but it’s better to go down fighting.”
“Keep your fighting for when it can do some good. Tonight, save my friends instead.”
Fury raged across his face. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t agree, but then he nodded, once. “We’ll stay with you. Don’t worry, they’ll let us go once—”
“Once I’m dead,” she finished for him. “If Christian comes back, tell him… It doesn’t matter, he knows.”
She stepped past Piers and stood in front of the Walker. “So Uncle, how do we do this?”
He held out a long, slender hand. Tara took it and he drew her close, turning her so she faced her friends once more. She closed her eyes, as she couldn’t bear to see the pain in their faces. A fist grasped her hair and dragged her head back. She tried to think of Christian, tried to be brave, but she didn’t want to die and the tears spilled down her cheeks. She heard the rasp of a blade as it was drawn from its scabbard.