“Fight!” I begged her. “You’re a Drake. Drakes fight, damn it!”

“She’s a Drake too.” She had to spit out a mouthful of blood before she could speak again. “Viola.”

“Her name is Viola?” Isabeau asked silkily. “Ben. I will try to contain her as I show you how to get back home.” She dropped to sit cross-legged at the foot of the tree and clasped Solange’s limp hand, the one dripping blood. She wound a ribbon around them, tightening the knot with her teeth. She closed her eyes and began to chant.

“Do it,” Solange croaked. “Whatever it is, do it now!”

I jammed the collar around her neck, fumbling to hook it on tightly. She yelped in pain, eyelids flying open to reveal red irises. They burned and snapped like a line of gasoline catching fire. She strained against the arrow, pulling it with searing infinitesimal slowness through her ragged flesh. She tried to free her hand but it was lodged tightly against Isabeau’s, the ribbon slick with blood. Her fingers twitched as if they burned. Isabeau didn’t move, already deep in a trance.

“I said, kill the witch!” She seethed, clearly back to being Viola.

No one moved.

Isabeau was right there, bathed in pheromones, and she didn’t so much as blink. Quinn and Connor limped into range. Still no reaction. Solange slumped, confused and exhausted.

“No!” Constantine struggled, his odd eyes gleaming as if he was holding back tears. “What have you done?”

Solange didn’t need pheromones to punch me in the face.

So she clearly wasn’t that exhausted.

She backhanded me with her free hand and the force of it knocked me off my feet. I flew sideways, head snapping back, jaw screaming with pain. I bit through the inside of my cheek. My neck spasmed. I tensed as the ground raced up to meet me, despite Jenna’s lesson on how to fall and my parents’ advice on going limp if arrested at a protest. It happened too fast. I didn’t have time to shield myself with an arm to break my fall. The impact was going to shatter my teeth or my cheekbone; at the very least I was looking at a concussion.

I never landed.

Nicholas caught me.

My eyes were screwed up so tight it took me a moment to realize I wasn’t broken. I was so close to the ground that the snow was cold on the back of my legs but a hand cradled my head gently. My heart stuttered. Nicholas leaned over me, one knee on the ground as he supported my weight. His hair fell over his forehead, his expression as beautiful and solemn as ever.

“I hit my head, didn’t I?” I asked, wobbily. “You’re not real.”

His mouth quirked. “I’m real, Lucky.”

He stood up slowly, drawing me back to my feet. I was a little light-headed and a lot confused. “Where did you even come from?” I asked, awed despite myself. I didn’t give him a chance to answer, just stood on my tiptoes and pressed my mouth to his. I kissed him as if I wasn’t covered in blood, with water freezing into icicles at the bottom of my jeans and a bruise forming on my face. He drew me up against his chest, his kisses dark and deep and sweet. I wanted them to last forever. We didn’t have forever, though. We barely had right now.

“I followed Constantine,” he finally explained when I pulled away long enough to let him talk. “I would have been here sooner but I got cornered by a Huntsman. He’s now being chased by one of Isabeau’s dogs.”

His brothers converged on us with happy whoops, slapping his back and jostling me right out of the way so that I bumped into Kieran. He had to catch me so I wouldn’t topple.

“I’m sure this is all very touching,” Magda said acidly. “But we’re kind of in the middle of something.”

More Hel-Blar were closing in, drawn by the violence and the blood in the snow. It wouldn’t be long before other vampires joined them, and then hunters. We had to get out of here and we didn’t have time to fight them all individually. Not to mention that Isabeau was still deep in her magical trance.

“We need to buy some time,” Connor said, frowning at the Hel-Blar. “And we’re running out of stakes.”

“We could blow up the car,” I suggested. Kieran didn’t even look surprised, though it was his car.

“What is it with you and blowing up shit?” Quinn asked as Magda leaped off the hood, stabbing down with two daggers and catching two Hel-Blar at the same time. She was like a feral cat in a rainstorm, all claws and teeth.

“Hey, I didn’t blow up that ghost town. That was all Hunter.”

Nicholas stood behind me close enough that I could lean back slightly and touch him. I still wasn’t convinced he was real. “We could light the gasoline as well,” he suggested. “In a perimeter around us. It would keep them back for a little while.”

“Good idea,” Logan approved. “We’ll need rope or something for that. Too much snow otherwise.”

“I’ve got rope in the trunk,” Kieran said.

“I’ll get the gas tank out.” Nicholas took a step forward but Quinn stopped him. He just raised an eyebrow in reply.

“I’m older,” Quinn insisted. “And you’ve already had a bad week.”

Nicholas snorted. “Do you even known where the gas tank is?”

“Well, crap.”

“Cover me,” was all Nicholas said before leaping into the fray. Quinn and Connor fanned out behind him. Logan doubled back to protect Isabeau and Solange. Solange’s eyes were rolled back in her head as she fought her own inner battle.