The hunters and enemy werecreatures turned to face the new threat, but their weapons and silver bullets couldn’t hurt the ghostly dead, nor the god who led them. The Night Marchers, however, could harm the living, and they seemed to know who was the enemy and who was not. They glided through the fray, choosing their targets with brutal precision. Several werecreatures were speared through the heart, the flash of negative light proof enough the demons saw the fight as a losing one.
The odds got even worse for the other side as the Davenport pack finally arrived, Amelia in the lead, her people coming from both directions. Their wolf forms ranged in size and color, but they all shared a similar rage. The hunters took aim at them rather than the ghosts, but the shooting didn’t last for long, not when they had to protect themselves against ghosts who couldn’t die but could kill.
Since the god and his ghosts weren’t trying to kill the packs under Jono’s protection, he focused all his attention on Nicholas. The arsehole was trying to retreat into the fray, looking for a way out, and Jono refused to let him. He lunged after Nicholas, ignoring the pain throbbing in his hind leg and lower gut. The silver poisoning was spreading, but right now the more pressing need was sinking his fangs into the enemy.
Nicholas or his demon sensed Jono coming, twisting on four legs to meet Jono’s attack. Nicholas snarled, a hint of amber flickering across black eyes. Jono wondered if the demon was prepared to flee, or if Nicholas was panicking and pushing through the control. Either option was acceptable as he aimed for Nicholas’ throat again, because it meant he was afraid.
Jono had put the other man on his knees once before and forced him to show throat. Tonight he was willing to rip it out.
Fenrir let him have control, blocking the pain so Jono could focus on the threat. The demon riding Nicholas’ soul might be in the driver’s seat, but Jono refused to let it win this fight. He slammed into the other werewolf, driving them both to the ground. Nicholas’ claws raked his side again, the pain vicious heat against his ribs before Fenrir pushed it aside. Jono kicked out with his good leg, catching Nicholas in the stomach, ripping through skin.
The wet sound of tearing flesh was drowned out by Nicholas’ howl, the sound louder than the ghostly drums beating around them from the Night Marchers. Teeth scraped over Jono’s muzzle, and he bit back, tasting bitter blood on his tongue. They rolled over the asphalt, crashing against a parked car and rocking it back on two wheels. Jono got pinned in against metal, but he braced himself against the car to kick himself free. He rolled fast and hard to get back to his feet and turned to find Nicholas trying to runagain, and fuck it all, but the bastard’s cowardice was annoying.
Nicholas didn’t get far, skidding to a halt when the Hawaiian god stepped into his path and pointed the shark-teeth-encrusted spear at him. The god said nothing, but his intent was clear—Nicholas was going nowhere.
At the end of either block, police cars turned the corner with tire-squealing speed, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Some of the werecreatures started to peel off from the melee, seeking to escape. Jono launched himself at Nicholas before he could attempt to do the same, landing on his back and sinking his claws into the other man’s body. He clamped his jaws around the back of Nicholas’ neck, biting down until he tasted blood and his teeth scraped against bone.
Nicholas sank to the ground, shuddering as Jono increased the pressure over his spine. For a moment, Jono thought he’d have to snap Nicholas’ neck to get him to stop fighting. But then an explosion of negative light nearly blinded him, the taste of sulfur overwhelming in his mouth and lungs. It abruptly faded as the demon escaped to a safety its host would never find. Nicholas let out a raspy whine before his body moved against Jono’s in the way that spoke of a shift.
Jono didn’t let up his hold on the other man, even when Nicholas finally lay beneath him as human, naked and covered in blood. Jono’s claws still scraped over rib bones as his teeth cut skin on either side of Nicholas’ skull in a pointed warning. Fear was a sickly scent Jono usually hated to smell, but in this instance, it pleased him.
“I yield,” Nicholas pleaded.
“Hold fire!” Casale suddenly shouted over the snarling sounds of the fight still happening around them. “Hold fire!”
Razor-sharp shark teeth lining wood that smelled like the sea passed across Jono’s vision as the Hawaiian god made his presence known. “Do you want the kill, or shall I take him with us?”
Jono removed his teeth from Nicholas’ head, lifting his own to meet the god’s powerful gaze. He needed a voice to answer, and so started to shift despite the agony involved. He rolled off Nicholas, knowing the god wouldn’t let the other man run.
Shifting was difficult this time around, the silver poisoning in his system hindering the transformation. Fenrir pushed him through it, and Jono let out a gasp once his mouth was human, left leg buckling beneath him, stomach a shredded mess. He went to one knee, gritting his teeth against the blood flowing down his body from the gut and bullet wound. He could feel the bullet still in his body, a heat deep in his flesh that wouldn’t come out.
“Ta for your help, but who the bloody fuck are you?” Jono ground out.
That wide, expressive mouth curved into a hard smile. “I am war’s blessing. You may call me Ku.”
“Jono!” Wade shouted from behind him. “Jono, are you all right?”
He craned his head around, watching as Wade raced toward him. “What happened to the demon upstairs?”
“Still contained, but you sounded like you needed help.”
“Had it covered, mate.”
Wade snorted as he made it over, casually placing his foot on Nicholas’ back and leaning his considerable, if hidden, weight on the other man to keep him in place. The sound Nicholas let out was definitely pained. Wade appeared lean in human form, but looks could be deceiving. His ability to shift mass meant Nicholas wasn’t going anywhere except to jail if Jono had anything to say about it.
“Sure you did,” Wade said.
Around them, the police were advancing, weapons drawn, as the Night Marchers disappeared with the first rays of dawn breaking free of the eastern horizon. Ku looked at Jono, tapping his spear against the asphalt.
“Persephone asked for my aid to bridge the hours between night and day. Where I go, the echo of the past follows. The Night Marchers escorted me across the Pacific and a continent because I do so love a good war,” Ku said with a smile that promised nothing good.
Jono jerked his head toward Nicholas. “Thiswar isn’t yours. It’s mine.”
Because he knew, after this morning—after all the other vicious, underhanded fighting Estelle had instigated—there was no winning this unless one of them was dead. There was no denying his spot in the challenge ring, not after this.
“Until twilight, then.”
Ku disappeared, stepping through the veil and taking the fog with him. Jono ignored the surprised shouts that lingered in his sudden absence.
