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“No!” I pull the sword free. The werewolf howls in pain. As I stumble toward it to help, something slams into my back, knocking me to the ground. The sword skitters away. I roll, but a hellhound pins my shoulders. I’m face-to-face with my doom.
It yelps, collapsing onto me. The sword sticks out of its back. I shove the hellhound off, then wrench the sword free. Cosmina’s on the other end of the pit. She must have thrown the blade. She’s got the uninjured werewolf pinned, her arm around its throat. She’s going to snap its neck the same way I snapped my first hellhound’s.
But that isn’t a hellhound. It’s a person.
“Stop!” I sprint to her, grab the werewolf, and throw it against the wire. It falls, unconscious.
“I had that one!” Cosmina snarls.
Slayers only kill demons. Not innocents. “They’re people!”
“Not tonight, they aren’t!”
The buzzer sounds once, twice, three times. They’re dumping the rest on us.
I drop the sword and get on one knee, making my hands into a cradle. Cosmina doesn’t hesitate. She puts her foot in my hands and I throw upward with all my might. She sails through the air, landing just past the edge of the pit. And then she runs. Away from me.
What. The. Hell.
I’m alone.
No, I’m definitely not alone. I have nine new monsters surrounding me.
15
I PICK UP THE SWORD. My limbs shake. My vision tunnels. It’s like the worst asthma attack ever, only I’m still breathing. But for how much longer?
One-on-one, I might have had a chance. But fighting nine monsters at once? I can’t protect myself and the werewolves. I doubt I can even protect myself.
The first zompire lunges. I swing on pure instinct, taking off its head. A hellhound jumps at me and I slice into its stomach. The blood spurts, coating my hands in liquid so hot it burns. I want to puke. But that part of me is pushed aside by the kill-kill-kill running through my brain and body like an electric current.
I give myself over to it entirely.
The hellhound is dead. I swing up and take the arm off one of the other zompires. That doesn’t even slow it. I spin, kicking high and catching it on the head. It stumbles into the wire, its clothes catching there.
The other two hellhounds tear at their dead packmate. I lower my head and run at one of the remaining werewolves, throwing it into the wire. The second werewolf grabs me, tossing me through the air. I land hard on my back but roll away from its pounce. The werewolf pins me. Then it yelps and goes limp, a deadweight on me. I shove it off. There’s a dart in its shoulder.
With a whining yelp, the third active werewolf goes down, a dart in its chest. I pick up the sword as the hellhounds lose interest in their meal. They both leap at me at once. I slash one, spin, kick the other. It falls shy of the wires and scrambles to its feet. I lift the sword and jab. It goes in the hellhound’s mouth, straight through the back of its skull. I try to pull the blade free.
It’s stuck.
The other hellhound jumps. I yank the sword up, swinging the dead hellhound’s body as a weapon. The impact sends both hellhounds—alive and dead—into the wire.
I stand in the center of the pit, panting. There are bodies all around me. Most are dead. The six werewolves are still alive. I’m so busy counting I don’t notice movement until something falls to the ground behind me. A singed hellhound with a crossbow bolt in its back is dead inches from me.
Leo is standing on the edge of the pit, holding a crossbow. He looks determined. He also looks terrified. “Are you okay?” he shouts.
I lift a shaking, blood-covered hand to give him a thumbs-up. One of the barriers from the viewing area sails over the side and lands at the bottom, leaning against the barbed wire.
Artemis appears, leveraging another one so they form a ladder.
“Wait until I cut the power!” she shouts.
Leo fires the crossbow at someone I can’t see, then reloads. There’s a crashing noise and the electric hum is gone. I can’t stay in this pit a second longer, surrounded by the carnage. Soaked in the knowledge that I was pure Slayer and it still wouldn’t have been enough without Leo and Artemis to help me. I run at the barrier ladder, climbing up as fast as I can. My clothes catch on the barbs. I tear free without pausing.
I rush out of the pit and into Leo. He catches me, his arms tightening around me.
“Thank God,” he says. In that moment, I finally know I’m okay. I’m going to be okay. I saved Cosmina. None of the werewolves died. That was me.
