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THE CROWD ERUPTED AROUNDGideon. Everywhere he looked, people screamed and pushed, trying to get out of the square and away from the witches descending on them. Gideon leaned into the jostle and crush, drawing his pistol.
Witches outnumbered his soldiers. The spellfire had killed the Blood Guard soldiers on the platform, leaving only those on the ground. There were enough left to handle a purging, but not a full-on attack. And the furious sound of gunfire cracking across the square meant the witches were armed.
His soldiers were outnumberedandoutgunned.
Gideon had known Cressida was planning something. He should have prepared for this. He should have been ready for anything.
The crowd scattered and thinned, leaving only the witches—dozens of them, cloaked in gray. They advanced, moving like a synchronized unit. Those in front fired and fell back to reload, while those behind stepped forward to cover them.
Crack crack crack!
Bullets whizzed past Gideon. He returned their fire, calling for the Blood Guard to fall back to the purging platform, whose wooden frame—now going up in flames—could be used to take cover.
Gideon kept firing as they followed his commands. All except Laila, who stood shooting alongside him.
“Go,” he told her.
She ignored him, her pistol smoking. “Some of those girls are the witches we captured.”
Gideon nodded. The very ones Rune set free, with the help of his brother.
“And the witch leading them …”
Gideon shuddered.Cressida. The girl from his nightmares was here, in the flesh. He didn’t want to think about what that would mean. If they lost this fight …
Suddenly, the witches halted. Their firing stopped and silence rang out through the square.
“Gideon Sharpe!” Cressida shouted. “Tell your dogs to stand down!”
Her voice sent a lightning-like jolt down Gideon’s legs, unbalancing him.
He and Laila both stopped firing. But they kept their guns raised. When the Blood Guard behind them did the same, Cressida stepped forward, out of the formation, with another witch at her side.
The second witch dragged someone along by the collar. Her captive stumbled. His face was so bloodied and bruised that Gideon didn’t recognize him at first.
“Papa!” Laila cried out.
Gideon looked closer. ItwasNicolas Creed. The man who’d picked him up from the alley stones behind the boxing ring; the man who’d taught Gideon how to fight back.
How did she capture him?
The Good Commander was heavily guarded at all times.
But if Cress could disguise herself as Verity, she could disguise herself as anyone. One of Nicolas’s most devoted soldiers,perhaps. His wife, or one of his children. He wouldn’t have stood a chance.
The witch threw the Good Commander to the ground at Cressida’s feet.
Laila lowered her gun and stepped forward. Gideon’s arm shot out to stop her.
“Keep your head,” he said. “It’s the only way to help him now.”
Laila swallowed, nodding, and fell back beside Gideon, her eyes trained on her father.
Cressida sheathed her cutting knife—a crescent-shaped blade Gideon knew too well—and drew out a pistol. Stepping forward, she pressed the barrel to Nicolas’s temple. Bright red blood stained her fingers, and all down one scarred arm were faded spellmarks.
Her sharp gaze focused on Gideon. “Tell your soldiers to disarm themselves and pile their weapons here.” She nodded to a spot several feet in front of her. “Then bring me Rune Winters and Seraphine Oakes. Do it now, or I’ll kill him.”
Nicolas knelt on the ground, his hands bound behind his back. The Commander raised his eyes to them, one of which was swollen shut.
