I lunged at Ethan, but Connor’s arms wrapped around me from behind.

“Whoa, girl,” he said, trying to keep his voice even, but I could hear his anxiety. “Let’s not do anything hasty.”

“I will kill you,” I growled, struggling against Connor.

“Oh God.” Shay was beside me, staring at Ansel. He looked at me. “Can you help him?”

The red wave of rage had pushed all rational thought from my mind. I closed my eyes, trying to draw breath.

“If his heart is still beating,” I murmured. “Maybe.”

“Okay, then let’s do that. I’ll help you. You have to focus, Cal. Save Ansel.” Shay touched my arm. He looked at Connor. “Let her go.”

Connor glanced at Monroe, who had positioned himself between me and Ethan. Monroe gave a slight nod. Connor eased his grip on me, and Shay took both of my hands, pulling me to Ansel’s side. I knelt in the blood and put my hands on Ansel’s chest. I could hear his breath, wet and ragged. His pulse was there, but it was weak and slowing.

I choked on a sob. “Oh God, Ansel.”

“I’m sorry.” Ethan was staring at us, his face a mixture of grief and horror. “I didn’t know he was your brother.”

I glared at him, rage making every beat of my heart deafening.

“Stop talking, Ethan,” Monroe said, and moved to block my view of the Searcher.

“Calla.” Shay’s voice brought me back to the task at hand. “Ansel needs help now. What can I do?”

I shook my head, trying to focus. “He needs blood, and the arrows have to come out.”

Shay nodded.

“When I tell you, pull the shafts as quickly as you can.”

“All right.”

He moved to the other side of Ansel’s limp form and grasped a crossbow bolt. I raised my forearm to my lips and bit down. I slid my hand underneath Ansel’s head and tilted it up. I wedged my fingers between his lips, parting them. Then I leaned down and murmured in his ear as I pressed my bleeding arm against his mouth.

“Listen, baby brother. Please listen.” I was sobbing as I spoke. “I need you to hear me. You have to drink, Ansel. Please drink.”

My blood poured into his mouth. Down his throat. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against his temple. The Searchers stared at us, silent and frozen in place. A mixture of horror and curiosity played across their faces.

Ansel didn’t move. My blood was filling his mouth; it began to trickle out one corner of his lips.

“Calla?” Shay’s voice was edged with fear.

“Please, Ansel,” I whispered again. “Drink. I love you. Don’t do this. Drink.”

Ansel’s body jerked, a sharp shuddering movement. His jaw opened and he swallowed. His muscles convulsed and his headpulled away from my arm.

“Adne, Connor, get over here,” I shouted. “He’s going to fight. I need you to hold him still.”

They both came to my side and pinned his shoulders to the floor. He jerked again, and they had no trouble holding him still. Even through my fear I frowned. His struggling was weak. Something was wrong. I put my bleeding arm back against his mouth.

“Come on, An,” I said. “You need this. Keep drinking. Don’t fight it.”

He swallowed again and then began to drink steadily.

“Keep him down,” I said, glancing at Adne and Connor.

They grimaced and nodded.

“Shay, start pulling the arrows.”

“Okay.” Shay sucked in a quick breath. “Here goes nothing.” He jerked the first shaft out of Ansel’s chest.

Ansel’s eyes didn’t open, but he bucked up and snarled, spewing blood from his mouth. Adne grunted, but Connor just kept steady pressure against Ansel’s body.

“Hold him down!” I shouted, and pushed my arm back against his mouth.

My anxiety grew by the minute. Ansel was barely putting up a fight. What if my blood came too late to save him?

“Again, Shay,” I said, pushing back the sickening fear that crawled up my throat. “We have to get the arrows out as quickly as possible.”

Shay nodded and pulled out two more arrows. “That’s all of them,” he announced, tossing the crossbow bolts aside.

I kept my arm pressed to Ansel’s mouth. He stopped flailing and drank deeply, more steadily. I braced myself against the floor with my other hand. He was taking a lot of blood.

“Calla—” Shay moved to my side and put his arm around my waist.

“I’ll be okay,” I said.

Ansel stopped drinking. I hesitantly pulled my arm from his mouth and clamped my hand over the puncture wound. His eyes fluttered open.

“Calla?”

I sobbed, pulling him against me.

Monroe expelled a shuddering sigh. “Thank God.”

“No wonder Strikers have such a hard time killing them,” Silas quipped. “Did you see how fast that was? I’ll talk to the Academy about some new enchantments to counter that.”

“Not now, Silas,” Connor said through gritted teeth.

“It’s really you,” Ansel said, blinking at me, his voice still a bit unsteady. “I can’t believe I found you.”

“Ansel.” I buried my face in his matted hair. “Oh God, Ansel.”

His eyes remained slightly unfocused as they slid over the circled Searchers, finally resting on Ethan, who took a step back.

“He shot me.” Ansel sounded oddly amused. “That’s the one who shot me.”