“It’ll be stragglers,” she said. “In need of food and shelter.”

“And if not?”

“Then they’ve ridden a long way to die.”

W hen she stood at the post on top of the wall she could see the riders, or the shape of them. Two as Cian had said, with the first leading the second horse. They wore no cloaks though there was a chill in the air, and a hint of the first frost.

She glanced at Niall who’d been awakened when the guards had spotted the riders. “I’ll want a bow.”

Niall gestured to one of the men, took a bow and quiver from him. “Seems fruitless for the enemy to ride straight at us. Two of them against us? And unable to pass through the gates unless we welcome them.”

“Likely they aren’t the enemy. But the gates aren’t to be raised until we know. Two men,” she murmured as they rode close enough for her to be sure. “The one being led looks to be injured.”

“No,” Cian said after a moment. “Dead.”

“How can you—” Niall cut himself off.

“You’re certain?” Moira murmured.

“He’s tied to the horse, and he’s dead. So’s the lead rider, but he’s been changed.”

“All right then.” Moira let out a sigh. “Niall, tell the men to keep a sharp eye for others. They’re to do nothing without a command. We’ll see what this one wants. A deserter?” she said to Cian, then dismissed the idea before he answered. “No, a deserter would have gone as far east or north as possible, and kept hidden.”

“Could be he thinks he has something to trade,” Niall suggested. “Make us think the one he’s bringing is still alive, so we’d let them in. Or he’s got information he feels we’d value.”

“No harm in listening,” Moira began, then gripped Cian’s hand. “The rider. It’s Sean. It’s Sean, the smithy’s son. Oh God. Are you sure he’s—”

“I know my own kind.” And with eyes keener than Moira’s he recognized the dead. “Lilith sent him—she can afford to lose one so newly changed. She sent him because you’d know him, and feel for him. Don’t.”

“He was little more than a boy.”

“Now he’s a demon. The other was spared that. Look at me, Moira.” He took her shoulders, turned her to face him. “I’m sorry. It’s Tynan.”

“No. No. Tynan’s at the base. We had word he reached it safely. Injured, but alive, and safe. It can’t be Tynan.”

She pushed away from Cian, leaning on the wall, straining her eyes. She could hear the murmurs now, then the shouts as the men began to recognize Sean. There was hope in the shouts, and welcome.

“It’s no longer Sean.” She lifted her voice, cut through the calls of the men. “They killed the one you knew and sent a demon with his face. The gates stay locked, and not a man here will pass what rides here through them. I command it.”

She turned back. Every bone in her body went brittle as she saw Cian had been right. It was Tynan, or Tynan’s mauled body, tied to the second horse.

She wanted to weep, wanted to burrow herself into Cian and scream and sob. She wanted to sink to the stones and cry out her grief and her rage.

She stood straight, no longer feeling the wind that blew at her cloak, at her hair. She notched the arrow, and she waited for the vampire to bring its vile gift.

“No one is to speak to it,” she said coldly.

What had been Sean lifted its face, raised a hand to wave to those gathered on the wall.

“Open the gates!” it shouted. “Open the gates! It’s Sean, the blacksmith’s son. They may be after me still. I’ve Tynan here. He’s badly hurt.”

“You will not pass,” Moira called out. “She killed you only to send you here to die again.”

“Majesty.” It managed an awkward bow as it pulled the horses to a halt. “You know me.”

“Aye, I do. How did Tynan die?”

“He’s hurt. He’s lost blood. I escaped the demons and made my way to the farm, to the base. But I was weak and hurt myself, and Tynan, bless him, came out to help me. They set upon us. We barely escaped with our lives.”

“You lie. Did you kill him? Did what she made you turn you so you’d kill a friend?”

“My lady.” It broke off when she lifted the bow and aimed the arrow at its heart. “I didn’t kill him.” It held up its hands to show them empty of weapons. “It was the prince. The boy.” It giggled, then pressed a hand to its mouth to muffle it in a gesture so like Sean’s it ripped her heart. “The prince lured him outside and had the kill. I’ve only brought him back to you, as the true queen commanded. She sends a message.”

“And what would it be?”

“If you surrender, and accept her as ruler of this world and all others, if you place the sword of Geall in her hand, and set the crown on her head, you’ll be spared. You may live out your lives here as you like, for Geall is a small world and of little interest to her.”

“And if we don’t?”

He took out a dagger, and leaning over, cut the ropes securing Tynan to the horse. A careless kick sent the body tumbling to the ground. “Then your fate is as his, as will be the fate of every man, every woman, every child who stands against her. You’ll be tortured.”

It ripped off its tunic, and the moonlight fell on the burns and gashes yet to heal on its torso. “Any who survive Samhain will be hunted down. We’ll rape your women, we’ll mutilate your children. When it’s done, not a single human heart will beat on Geall. We are forever. You’ll never stop the flood of us. Give your answer, and I’ll take it to the queen.”

“This is the answer of the true queen of Geall. When the sun rises after Samhain, you and all like you will be dust that blows out to sea on the wind. Nothing will be left of you in Geall.”

She passed her bow back to Niall. “You have your answer.”

“She’ll come for you!” it shouted. “And for the traitor to his kind who stands beside you.”

It wheeled the horse, kicked it to a gallop.

On the wall, Moira lifted her sword, and flinging it out, shot a stream of fire. The vampire screamed once as the flames struck, then the ball of fire that was left of it fell to the ground, and went to ash.