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Simon’s green magic fights harder against my silver magic. My head begins to ache, and my teeth chatter. It feels like something is pulling apart inside me, but I pray it’s nothing important. I need to be able to come back from this.
For my men. For our house. For our future.
A dark voice curls inside my mind. When you die, his death will be next. And it’ll be slow and painful.
“No!” I tell it, shouting over the roar of magic.
“I’ll shift. I’ll help.” Max’s voice has grown more intense.
I know he wants to join in the fight, but his wolf would only prove an obstacle for me. I need him out of the line of fire.
Shaking my head, I try to speak through gritted teeth. “Y-you’ll be in the way.”
“He’s going to kill you!” he shouts angrily, helplessly.
I don’t say anything. Partly because I can’t spare the breath, but also because this grim assessment seems likely. My energy is waning, moments from tipping the balance in Simon’s favor. He’ll overtake me, and then I’ll be consumed by the power of his sickly green magic.
Through the silver light, I watch his lips curl slowly into a wicked grin. Then I feel the pressure of his counterattack, green forcing back silver. Like vines, slender tendrils of his putrid magic slither into the silver beam, as though infecting it.
I try to think of my men again. Try to focus on the good. But I’m just too tired.
Muscle strain sours into weakness, like a pernicious bout of the flu riddling the body with aches. Cold sweat breaks out across my brow. Teeth clench and throb. Bones rattle, threaten to splinter. I feel like I’m about to burst apart in a cloud of blood and guts and all I can think about is how traumatizing it will be for Max when his lover explodes in his arms. I want to tell him I love him, to give my final breath to love, but I can’t even turn my head to look at him.
I’m doomed.
My silver light flickers and dies. Simon fires a single blast that throws both Max and me to the floor.
“Max!” I shout, my voice ragged.
Sprawled beside the table, I struggle to lift myself, but it seems my body’s given up. Drained of its last reserves. I can hardly lift my head to watch Simon deliver the final blow, but I beg myself to find a way to protect Max still.
I need to use my dark magic. There’s no other choice.
A door bursts open. In my periphery, two furry beasts bound into the dining room, leaping onto the monster. Braxton! Orson! Even above the background effluvia of fear sweat, I whiff their scents. It’s a welcome aroma that feeds relief to my system.
The monster swats them away, but they bounce back, siphoning Simon’s attention away from me.
Hope.
I feel its cool tingle like a winter breath. I glare into the glowing, viridescent eyes of my enemy. We’re not through, you and me. Max helps me back onto my feet. “Can you keep going?” he asks me, sounding doubtful.
I nod, as much in answer to him as to convince myself. As I plant one leg behind me and prepare to renew my attack, Max shifts and joins the others in their assault.
But they aren’t the only ones fighting Simon. Suddenly, shapes are all around me, rushing toward Simon. A dozen others join my three mates in a counteroffensive, pairing magic with the claws and teeth of my men. I spare a moment’s glance at them and recognize them immediately.
My pack!
A collage of faces I haven’t laid eyes on in what feels like a lifetime. They stand in a line like a row of archers on the battlefield, hurling volleys of magic. Dark magic. Globes of twinkling darkness, star-spangled night sky curved around the surface of a basketball, fly from their palms. They arch over guests, who duck and cover their heads or otherwise lay injured on the floor. The impulse to run for safety grabs hold of a spry few who take their chances running for exits. Simon occasionally sweeps them with his tentacles, but enough slip past him that the room thins to a more manageable occupancy. I’m less afraid of collateral damage.
An older woman, dressed in a white gown and practically dripping pearls, stumbles towards the door. One of Simon’s needle-thin arms spies her, a faceless snake zeroing in on its prey. A voice in the back of my head thinks, Why save her? She’s probably awful. But I attribute this to the dark magic prodding my consciousness.
I twirl and fire a beam of silver magic at the tentacle, severing it just before Simon manages to stick the old woman. She flees safely into the hall.
That better get me karma points.
I look back and discover my brief lapse has given Simon an open shot. An oily black arm, thick as a tree trunk, barrels towards me. I don’t have time to fire on it. I barely have time for the shock to register on my face.
But just as it closes the distance, a powerful black wolf collapses it. Braxton sinks his teeth into the appendage, ripping out the tarry innards. It bucks him violently and he crashes against the wall.
