One of the Akhs let out a great shriek, and fifty or so demons ran straight for the house.

Brent swore as he saw them coming.

“Hold your ground,” I said. “Not yet.”

I could hear Ryan cursing up a storm.

“Almost,” I said.

The demon army jumped onto the back porch of the farmhouse. They crashed through the door and the windows and flooded the house.

“Not yet,” I said.

“They’re coming up the stairs!” Brent shrieked. He, Ryan, and Brent stood in the frames of the windows, ready to jump.

When almost all of the demons had crashed into the house, I shouted, “Now!”

The boys sprang from the windows, clearing the porch below, just as I saw the first wave of demons enter the master bedroom. The boys hit the ground and started running faster than I’d ever seen them move—fueled by adrenaline and the eclipse. Zach had lost his gun in the jump, but Ryan clutched onto his with dear life.

The archers escaped the roof off the other side that led to the front yard of the farmhouse.

“Blow it!” I shouted as my boys neared the center of the ring.

Brent held out his hand and slammed his thumb down on the detonator he clenched in his fist. The boys braced for the impact of the explosion.

Nothing happened.

Brent looked down at the detonator. He mashed it again. Still nothing.

Demons started to claw their way through the second-story window, still intent on their prey.

“It’s been disconnected!” Brent shouted. “I have to set if off manually.”

“Brent! No!”

But Brent had already turned and rocketed back toward the house. He threw open a metal box that was attached to the outside railing of the porch. I knew from the design he’d showed me that there was a lead from that box to the explosives we’d planted under the house. “Don’t worry, I’ll have time!” His fingers moved quickly inside the box.

Ahks and Gelals dropped from the window onto the porch.

Ryan and Zach had made it to me on the field. “Hurry!” We all shouted at him.

“Got it!” He closed the metal box and turned to run from the impending explosion, pumping his fists up in the air like Rocky Balboa. But before he could finish the gesture, a Gelal grabbed him from behind, yanking him up over the porch railing by the neck.

“No!” I shouted.

I ran for Brent, but before I could get halfway there, the farmhouse exploded right in front of me.

It happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. Brent and the house and the demons were there when my eyes closed against the brightness of the blast. When my eyelids fluttered open, it was all gone.

Brent was gone.

Nothing left of him but the flames he’d created.

Chapter Thirty-seven

THE WARRIOR AND THE HEALER

THIRTY SECONDS LATER

I couldn’t hear anything but a terrible, nauseating ringing in my ears from the explosion. I couldn’t stand, either, the dizziness making my knees slam into the ground.

“No!” Ryan screamed as he ran past me, but I couldn’t actually hear his shout over the ringing. I just saw his mouth shape the word. Felt the pain he radiated as he scrambled toward the flaming remains of the house. I reached out and tried to stop him from getting too close, but I couldn’t. He slaughtered two Ahks who had escaped the blast with his rifle, and then he fell to all fours in front of the fire.

I rocked backward and lay on the ground, my head in the straw. I clawed the earpiece out and then clamped my hands over my ears. I concentrated my healing powers on my eardrums, willing the throbbing, pulsating pain to stop. The ringing eased slightly, and the pain lessened to a stinging ache, and I could hear well enough to make out someone shouting my name.

More than one someone, actually, I realized as I arched my head back, trying to get a look at the battlefield from where I lay. The action reminded me of when I’d been taken down by the wolves in Caleb’s warehouse, and that made my head swim more. The challenging ring seemed eerily empty. Most of the Ahks and Gelals had been destroyed in Brent’s explosion. A small bunch of them, shielding Caleb at the far north side of the ring, remained, and a few others scattered about the field. I could make out only five remaining werewolves in the smoke that rolled into the ring from the burning house. I wondered how many of the wolves had been defeated in combat, and how many had run for the hills after the explosion.

Daniel was one of the people who shouted my name. I could see his mouth moving as he fought two giant wolves that seemed to be trying their best to stop him from making it to my side. Their battle was bloody as they clashed in the air, and Daniel swung his sword at their flailing limbs. It all seemed to happen in surreal slow motion.

It probably didn’t help that I was seeing the whole thing upside down from the way my head was positioned on the ground.

Talbot also shouted my name, and I rocked my head so I could see him. He and Lisa were taking on two more of the terrible wolves. And even Slade and Zach, who were fighting off a few of the remaining demons, shouted at me. They all seemed to be waving their arms at me, as if trying to signal something. I was so disoriented from the blast that my brain took too long to process this information.

I rolled over onto my stomach so I’d be able to see normally, and looked up just in time to notice someone running at me, a spear raised in one hand, while the other hand waved me away. It was Jude. Why had he entered the ring?

His words finally made purchase in my brain. “Grace, run!”

I scrambled up onto my knees just as Jude sent his spear sailing over my shoulder. It hit something just behind me, and I heard the growl of a wolf. I turned my head just enough to see the open jaws clamp down on the collar of my robe. The wolf yanked me off the ground, and with four great bounding leaps crossed the entire challenging ring, with me as its prisoner. It didn’t even seem to be fazed by the spear that protruded from one of its front legs.

ONE LONG PIERCING SCREAM LATER

The brown wolf flung me to the ground, my hip slamming against the hardened dirt. I looked up and found myself staring into the yellow, murderous eyes of Caleb Kalbi.

His wicked smile cracked across his face, reminding me of a garish jack-o’-lantern when combined with his glowing eyes. We were at the north end of the ring, just in front of the boundary line of torches. They sent garish shadows dancing around him.

“I am glad you listened to my message,” he said.