Then I heard Daddy’s cry of pure, deep pain, and my blood went cold.
He was on the ground, his shirt ripped open and his chest bleeding as he struggled to stand straight—to protect Trevor, who was pressed against the garden wall, his eyes wide with horror.
I knew in an instant what had happened—Trevor had taken Timmy inside, then returned to help, only to land in a demon’s crosshairs. Daddy had taken the hit for him, but he’d only bought a few minutes, and now a true demon loomed over them both. Not the kind of demon we usually encounter, all tucked nicely into a human shell.
No, this demon was showing its actual form, something they very rarely did because a demon killed in its true form was really dead and done. A demon inhabiting a dead human just zipped back to the ether to wait another turn.
This one was real all right. Claws and fangs and scales and everything that horror movies had gotten right over the years, plus a lot more. And that monster was bearing down on my dad with claws and teeth, already having drawn blood.
Too much blood.
“No!” The word ripped out of me, and I was running toward Daddy, but Zane got there first.
He slammed into the demon from the side, and they both went down, rolling and grappling on the packed ground until Zane’s blade found its mark. But not before the demon’s claws raked across his chest, leaving bloody furrows in their wake.
I rushed forward as Zane staggered to his feet, one hand pressed to his chest, blood seeping between his fingers.
And then it was over.
Eight demons. All dead. The garden was wrecked—tables overturned, fairy lights tangled and broken, the birthday banner hanging by one corner.
I ran to Daddy, breathing in the sulphur-scented musk left behind by our attackers.
“I’m okay,” he said, but his voice was strained, and his face was gray. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Mom got there on my heels, and she pressed her hand against the wounds.
That’s when. I saw it. Something I’d never seen in my mom’s eyes before. Fear. Real, bone-deep terror.
“Don’t move,” she said, and her voice cracked. “Marcus! I need you!”
Marcus appeared with a med kit. “Let me see,” he said, gently moving Mom’s hands. He examined the wound, then nodded. “It’s deep, but clean. Missed anything vital. He’ll need stitches, but he’ll be fine.”
Mom let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped in her chest for years.
Jared was at my side suddenly, his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. His shirt was torn, and there was blood on his hands—demon blood, not his.
I looked around the garden. Sophie was sitting on the ground, staring at her bloody hands. Zane was letting Eliza press a cloth to his chest wound, his jaw tight with pain. Trevor hadn’t moved from the wall—he was still shaking, tears streaming down his face.
Gramps limped over to stand next to me. “Eight demons,” he said, his voice grim. “A coordinated attack on our students. That’s not random.”
“No,” I agreed. “It’s not.”
“It’s all connected,” I said quietly. “Antonio. The prophecy. This attack. It’s all to do with the same thing.”
Gramps nodded grimly. “Can’t argue with that. Now tell me why.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
He grunted. “Well, that’s the name of the game, isn’t it, kiddo? We figure it out, or we die trying.”
“I’m not sure I like that game, I said.
Eddie snorted. “Then you signed up for the wrong gig.”
“Like I signed up.” Except I did. Even before knowing what I was, I’d wanted in. And even now, I didn’t want out. Instead, I wanted answers. And pay back.
