Page 151 of Devoured

He dies with a scream.

Right as a dozen mortal police officers swarm into the field.

50

VANESSA

DAD?”

The word scrapes out of my throat, barely more than a gasp. He—he can’t be here. He can’t. But gunshots continue to tear through the air as screams shatter the field.

Bang. Officers pour through the crowd in a flood of black uniforms and silver rifles. Bang. In the center of them, framed by smoke and dirt, stands my father. Bang. I forget how to breathe.

His uniform looks exactly as I remember, slightly too big, with sleeves rolled haphazardly past his wrists as if he dressed in a hurry. A bulletproof vest conceals his chest, his badge, and his hands tighten around a thick rifle. He spots me instantly in the riotous crowd.

“Vanessa! Don’t move! I’m coming, honey!” Then, louder, “NO ONE SHOOT MY DAUGHTER!”

Silver flashes as bullets fly. Werewolves collapse—innocent soldiers on our side—preternatural blood splattering the sunlit grass. Bullets can’t discern between good and evil, and my father… He doesn’t know we were in the middle of an insurrection. He doesn’t know there are good werewolves here.

The bullets, at least, don’t seem to affect the faeries in the same way. One pierces the chest of that amber-haired soldier, and while he falls to the ground, he manages to pluck the bullet out. He does not die.

But the sight of it, of that faerie rising and grabbing the barrel of a rifle, hurling it over an officer’s head, only makes the other officers shoot faster.

No. God, no.

Calix seizes my arm to keep me from collapsing, his fingers nearly bruising my skin. “Stop the humans, Vanessa,” he commands, his breath hot against my ear. “I’ll protect the others.”

With a single nod, I shove away from him and sprint into the chaos. Grass slick with blood blurs beneath my feet. Werewolves smash into one another. Gunshots crack like lightning. Someone screams my name—maybe Evie, maybe Sin. I don’t know. I can’t breathe. I can’t stop running.

All I see is my father.

He fights toward me, shouldering aside other officers and ducking a leaping wolf. “I’m coming to get you!”

“No!” The word tears out of me. “Dad, stop! You have to stand down.” My legs burn as I race toward him. A gray wolf—one of Cora’s—launches at me, jaws wide, but I slide beneath it and come up running. It tackles Evander instead.

“Dad, don’t shoot!”

He drops to one knee, rifle aimed just past my shoulder. “GET DOWN!”

Before I can argue, he fires. A silver round whistles inches from my head and slams into that snarling gray beast behind me. It collapses on top of Evander, convulsing, fur melting and flesh oozing from the silver’s burn. Evander cries out, but the sound is muffled, and my ears are still ringing.

I skid to a halt in front of my father. My breath comes out ragged and fast. Too fast. “How—how are you here?”

“How do you think? The door was open.” He glances over his shoulder, eyes wild, still hoisting that rifle high. “I’m sorry, Vanessa. I’m sorry it took me so long to come. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“The door was open.”

The Realm of Superiority—it must have fully broken. In order to fight Cora, to win, the faeries must have stolen the rest of the castle’s magic.

“Dad, listen.” I grab his vest, forcing his attention back to me. “You have to call off your men. They don’t understand. There are good people here, but you brought silver bullets. They’re going to fight back. The werewolves and faeries are going to attack you, and you’re going to die. You can’t defeat them.”

He looks past me at the chaos, at massive wolves tackling human officers to the ground. At bullets soaring through the air. At the corpses on the ground.

I shake my head, trying to stay focused. On my father. Just my father. Right now he’s all that matters.

Slowly, Dad lowers his weapon. “I’m saving you,” he says plainly.

“I don’t need it. I was already saving myself.” With a frustrated growl, I add, “I told you to leave the city and protect yourself. Why can’t you listen to me?”