I turned to Ciro. “Okay, we’re going to get you out of here. We’ll—”

“No,” he said, looking toward the baying hounds. He drew himself up straight and waved toward the unseen Hunt. “Isn’t that what I deserve?”

“Just—”

“Lucy’s gone. She’s not coming back.” He looked at the hound. “And you can take me to her, can’t you?”

Ciro flew at Ricky. The hound crouched for attack, but Ricky said, “No!” and dodged Ciro’s clumsy charge, grabbing him by the jacket as the hound stood there, hackles raised, snarling.

“Yeah, sorry,” Ricky said. “That’s not going to work.”

Ciro threw himself in the other direction, breaking Ricky’s hold. He ran. And the hound went after him.

Ricky shouted, “No!” and lunged, but they were already out of his reach. Out of his reach and running my way.

Ciro veered at the last moment, and I caught one glimpse of his face, horror mixed with resolve. He tore past, and I went after him, and I could hear the hound on my heels and the pound of Ricky’s boots as he shouted, “No! Damn it, no!” and then “Liv! Get out of the—”

The hound leapt. I felt it knock me aside, and heard the click of its fangs and I thought for one second those fangs were for me, that it was too consumed with its mission to realize it had the wrong person and I was going to—

Ciro screamed. My arms went up to ward off the hound, but it was already past me, taking down Ciro, who screamed again just as I heard another shout, a deep boom from the forest.

“Olivia!”

I threw myself on the beast, saying, “No!” even as Ricky shouted for the hound to stop, get the fuck off Ciro, don’t you dare—

The hound’s head slashed down. That’s all I saw. That massive head go down. And then blood. Blood arcing everywhere. Blood spurting, the smell of it, the taste of it as it hit my open mouth. Someone hit my side. Tackled me, pushing me off the hound, arms pulling me up, fingers going to my face, swiping away the blood, a panicked voice saying my name. I looked up into pale blue eyes, clouded with worry.

“Is she hurt?” Ricky skidded up beside us, and Gabriel shot him a look.

“Not mine,” I managed to say, the shock still thick. “Blood. Not mine. It’s—Ciro!”

I scrambled up, pushing Gabriel aside. Or trying to, because he grabbed me back and let Ricky race past to the hound.

“Goddamn it!” Ricky said. “God-fucking-damn it!” and I knew Ciro was dead. Of course he was dead. That was the hound’s job, and when Ciro bolted, nothing could hold it back. Ricky still cursed, and I knew he was cursing himself, his failure, but the hound whined and backed off Ciro’s body, head lowered.

Ricky reached for the hound, and it tried to duck again, to avoid a blow, but Ricky only rubbed it behind the ears, murmuring, “It’s okay. Just … damn it.”

“Sit,” Gabriel said to me.

I lowered myself to the ground, and he surveyed my blood-covered face. Then he pulled out his shirttail and started to rip the cloth and Ricky said, “No, here,” and tugged at his shirt, but Gabriel said, “I’ve got this,” and gave him another of those hard looks. Ricky ducked it, not unlike the hound, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” I said. “Whatever happened out here, it was both of us.”

Gabriel said, “I know,” and the look he turned on me was softer, but I still saw the reproach there, that edge that said we’d done something reckless and foolhardy. Worse, we’d done it without him there to help.

Gabriel tore a strip from his shirt and used it to clean my face. I glanced over at Ciro, lying on the ground, his throat torn out, and I felt … I didn’t know what I felt. Well, yes, I did. I just didn’t like it.

“He killed them,” I said as Gabriel cleaned my face. “The lamiae. He was told they murdered Lucy and that killing them would bring her back.” Another glance Ciro’s way. “Whatever the excuse, he still murdered them.”

“I know,” he murmured. “He had a choice.”

I nodded. When he worked at a spot on my temple, I leaned against his hand, just briefly, and he rubbed his thumb across my cheek instead, the touch equally brief, but equally meaningful.

“Like Pamela,” Ricky said, his voice low, as if not wanting to interrupt.

I glanced to see him crouched beside the hound, one hand on it, his gaze on me, and I nodded, because that’s exactly what had been swirling through my brain since Ciro first told us of the deal he’d made with the Huntsman. Ricky understood that. I’ve had people in my life whom I felt a deep bond with, but it was never like this. I look at these men, and I feel that connection, the sense that they get me in a way I’d always presumed no one could.

“Like Pamela,” I murmured, as Gabriel’s critical eye declared my face clean of blood spray and I started to rise. “Which raises a hundred questions, all of which Ciro’s not going to be able to answer.”

“I don’t think he ever could,” Ricky said. “He was just another human pawn in a fae game.”

“We need to figure out this rogue Huntsman’s particular game. I’m guessing he killed Lucy and set it all in motion. The question is why. But first: we have a dead body.”

“I believe they can take care of that,” Gabriel said, and before I could ask, I caught the thunder of horses. The hound heard it too and leapt up, quivering in anticipation. Then it went still and gave a convulsing shudder and turned sharply, ready to flee.