A pentagram was carved into the metal and inside the protective bubble of the spell being spun, a witch was on her knees, bound and gagged, a collar on her neck with a large ruby in it visible even at this distance. The collar was like the one Milly had been caught by, and it would force the witch to do what the black coven wanted. That must have been how they had so many members pulled together in such a small area. There was another figure inside the pentagram, but I couldn’t get a good look at that one.

My gut twisted as I looked over the coven. There, to the left was my mom’s friend, Leanne, a smile on her face. Suddenly the answer to ‘how did the coven know I was here and that taking my parents would draw me in’ was answered. Fuck, fuck, fuckers. I would have come for the kids either way, but my parents—the witches must have wanted insurance that I would show.

But why? Why want me there if they knew I was going to try and stop them?

Around them were most of the black coven, if I was reading things right. They stared up at me, some with malice, others with apparent glee. Leanne waved, the stupid cow.

Well fuck them, too, and the brooms they rode in on.

“Frank and Pamela, you stick together, fight from here, run if you have to. Erik, you go after the demons. Alex, with me.” I didn’t wait for them, hated that I had to ask so much of them, but it was the way of things.

I ran for the guard rail, grabbed it, and swung over and down, snapping my legs at the last instant so I landed on the level below. I didn’t feel like trying my luck at flying through the air all the way to the bottom. Something zipped by my head as Alex landed beside me. It looked like a large bullet, about a foot long and pointy, making holes in walls and bodies. Maybe something left from the ship’s fighting days. Didn’t matter, it could still take me out, and the coven obviously knew it. The joy of everyone knowing I was an Immune was that they knew magic could hurt me only through indirect means.

“Fun stuff, Rylee.” Alex danced in place beside me, his golden eyes sparkling.

“Always fun with me, buddy.”

He snickered and we repeated the process of using the momentum of our fall to flick our bodies onto the level below us. Again, things flew our way, but then the coven was somewhat distracted by a shuffling, groaning, stinking mob.

The zombies had arrived. They fell over the railings and onto the floor below, not even bothered by the four-story drop. I caught a glimpse of the zombies as they moved en masse toward the black coven, surrounding the one woman in the center of the pentagram.

If the withes stopped their spelling now, there was a good chance the demon couldn’t be brought through and, from what I understood, it was a hell of a lot of work. Not to mention the backlash, which could be ugly if the spell suddenly went wild and out of control.

The witches held their ground while the zombies bit and grabbed at them. Alex and I hit the floor at the same time, my feet stinging with the impact. There was no hesitation though, there couldn’t be.

There were at least two dozen black coven members and I could see four witches with collars. The black coven had taken the few good witches left and forced them to help by the looks of things. Bad, bad juju.

The first coven member had his back to me and I didn’t wait for him to notice me, I just drove my sword through his heart. Normally I’d take his head, but with Frank up top, I was hoping he could make use of a few more bodies. Sure enough, the second the witch died, Frank brought him back and he lunged for the coven member closest to him.

Alex dove into the fray, biting legs and taking people out at the knees before grabbing them around the neck. He hit hard and fast, and they barely had time to lift their hands to lay a spell on him.

“Alex, with me!”

He listened, ranging behind me as I cut into the coven members. Though they may have been expecting us, they sure as hell weren’t prepared.

Or so I thought.

The woman in the center arched her back and I dove through the bubble into the center of the pentagram with her. While it would keep me safe for the moment from the witches outside the circle, it brought me face to face with—

“Oh fuck,” I whispered, for the first time really seeing the woman at my feet. Her long blonde hair and tattered blue dress.

I bent and grabbed her arm as the demon started to pull itself through the pentagram.

“Amelia, get up!” I yanked her hard, unable to be kind in that moment.

“Rylee, this is a dream. What’s happening? Don’t touch me!” Her blue eyes were confused, but I didn’t have time to explain anything, certainly not that her world was about to be flipped upside-down.

“Stay back.” I didn’t recognize the demon, but it was ugly, like a hound with three sets of wings sprouting from its back and the jaws of an alligator. Fucking hell.

I stayed between Amelia and the demon, and from the corner of my eye I saw Alex get to those witches with collars. He knocked one down, ripping the collar off. He was thinking about the long term, which was good. If we could get the captive witches un-collared, then they might be able to help. Or at least, they wouldn’t be forced to attack us. Alex was thinking, unlike my idiotic self.

The demon hound lunged at me and I spun to one side, coming down hard with my sword at the base of its neck. The blade dug deep, but the hound just laughed as the sword stuck and ripped from my hand.

“Stupid, stupid, little Tracker. Your hate is sweet on my tongue.” To emphasize, he flicked his tongue out and curled it up and around his nose, dipping it into the oversized nostril.

I didn’t hate my mom. But my mom sure as shit hated me, and that hatred was feeding the demon.

“That’s not me you’re tasting, you fucker.” I pulled a short blade from my lower back and held it out in front of me. “That’s her hatred, and that’s why I can do this.”

I dropped the knife and put my hand out like Erik had done, laying it on the demon’s face. Every good memory I had of my mom, the sweet moments in the past, I relived: baking with her, the feel of her hands on my hair as she braided it, the joy of seeing her smile at something I’d done well.

The demon hound howled and curled back from me, scrambling to get away, but it was too late, the damage was done. He lit up from within, like a lightning bug, going still as a statue and then exploding into nothing more than dust. Red and bone-colored dust, but still just dust.

The bubble around us dissolved and the sounds of fighting beat down on my ears—blood-curdling screams and the groans of the ship as it took stray hits.