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Mid-sentence, Tanner is cut off by a loud clattering sound. Sarah has dropped her wand. She fumbles to pick it up.

When I look back at Nico, he is no longer on his chair; he is cowering beneath the table. Tears stream down his cheeks and he rocks back and forth, hugging his knees. Gently, Rev crouches in front of him. She reaches out her injured hand and shows it to him. “I got hurt, too,” she says. “Tanner helped me. Now, you need to let me help you.” She meets his eyes. Nico nods, and crawls toward her.

When he’s on his feet again, Rev guides him in the direction of the bathroom. “Give us some space for a moment,” she says.

“Rev? Are you sure that’s a good idea? We don’t know what he’s capable of.” Mack moves in her direction, but she puts up a hand to stop him.

“He’s scared. Like the rest of us. He won’t hurt me.” And then she disappears into the bathroom and closes the door.

Tanner breathes out hard and shakes his arms at his sides. “Well,” he says, “looks like the gang is back together.” He smiles at Mack, but the professor simply stalks back to the couch and sits down. There’s a clinking sound and, instinctively, he pulls one of Luther’s hidden whiskey bottles from the floor beneath him. He holds it up, unscrews the cap, and takes a long swig.

“There is no gang anymore, Tanner,” he says, cradling the bottle. “Nova was the glue that held us together. She’s gone. Come morning, I will be too.”

22

LUTHER

I feel like I got run over by a freight train. Thinking of trains reminds me of Nova, and then the sensation doubles. I sit up and look at the empty space in the bed next to me. Last night, when I passed out, Kole’s Viking-sized body filled it. Now, he is gone.

I toss the sheet to the floor—it’s freezing cold no matter how many sheets or blankets we use—and stumble to the window.

No new signs of carnage down below. The bar is in view. Its sign—The Solar Cross—now hangs lopsided, and the windows are boarded up. But Rev is pretty sure she’s seen demons going in there.

Wouldn’t surprise me if Pete had decided alcohol was his ticket to a demon-friendly existence.

I need to shower. I think the last time I bothered was three or four days ago; getting near the bathroom when you’re sharing it with five other people is a rarity. I also need a drink. I’m aware it’s getting out of control, but—honestly—I don’t care enough to stop.

Why not drink myself into oblivion? That’s where we’re all headed anyway; might as well feel not quite so crappy while we’re travelling there.

In the living room, I find Tanner in his customary spot on the couch. Rev and Sarah are, presumably, in her room and… “Mack?” In the armchair, the professor is staring out of the window. He looks over when he hears my voice and rises slowly. “Thank the stars.” I pace over and pull him into a firm hug. I slap his back, but he stands stiffly in my arms until I let go.

“Luther,” he says.

“You’re back? When did this happen?”

“You were sleeping,” he says. “Must have passed out pretty hard to have missed all the commotion.”

“Commotion?”

Before Mack can answer me, the bathroom door opens. Sam steps out, but he’s looking behind him. “Feel better?” he asks.

Who’s he talking to? Kole?

I step sideways so I can see, then breathe, “Holy shit,” because Nico Fucking Varlac is standing in Rev’s bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and looking confused as all heck.

“Turns out, Nico returned from hell just like Sam,” Mack says.

“Except, unlike Sam,” Tanner has opened his eyes and is slowly sitting up on the couch, “Nico came back as a were-hound.”

“A were-what?”

“He doesn’t shift into a wolf anymore,” Sam says, guiding Nico to the kitchen table like he’s a lost child. He glances at me, then adds quietly, “He shifts into a Hellhound.”

I lean on the doorframe. The bathroom door is open, and steam billows softly out into the room. It smells of Tanner’s over-scented shower gel. I open my mouth, then close it; just when I thought things couldn’t get any more screwed up, the one person I had absolutely no desire to see again pops up like a bad penny. A bad penny who can now turn into a frigging hell beast in his spare time.

Abandoning the bathroom idea, I stalk to the kitchen, giving Nico as wide a berth as I can, and slam the kettle onto the stove. “Well, great,” I mutter. “No, seriously, this is great.”

Sam pats Nico’s shoulder and walks over to me. His eyes flash like Mack’s do when he’s pissed, and he stands with his chest close to mine. “He’s my brother, Luther. When it counted, he came through for us. He sacrificed himself for me.”