In a blur of speed a dark shape leaped out of the shadows, soared over Apollo’s back, claws raking the attackers, jaws snapping. Doyle’s sword swept down behind her seconds before fangs sank into her back.
“Watch your six, Blondie.”
The words echoed in her head, along with gunshots, shrieks, howls, as she jabbed out to spear one of Nerezza’s creatures.
Suddenly, she knew.
“North. Bran needs us to push them north,” she shouted.
She didn’t wait; she ran. Cursing, Doyle charged after her. Apollo streaked by them, hard on the heel of the dark dog—not dog, she saw now; the wolf.
Gunfire cut a swath, tearing wings, shattering bodies, and still they came.
Through the haze of smoke, she saw Bran, standing, arms raised, as if calling the beasts to him. Fear struck like an arrow, vibrated in her cry of his name. But he stood even as the killing cloud swooped toward him.
“Brace yourself!” he called out.
He flung his arms wide.
The light flashed, red as blood, hot as tongues from hell. The force of it would have shot her back if Doyle hadn’t gripped her arm. Blinded by it, she had only instinct and dream-memory.
“East.” She choked it out, stumbled. “Clockwise. Drive them east.”
It all whirled into a mad blur, the insanity of death and battle, hot blood, the stink of smoke. The light flashed again, mushrooming up to fill the world with its power and doom. Talons caught in her hair. As she batted at them, the wolf sprang. The shriek of her attacker snapped off in its jaws, then she lost it in the haze.
Light exploded from the south, and this time the power of it lifted her off her feet. Breathless, ears throbbing, she gained her hands and knees. By the time she managed to stand again, she’d lost all sense of direction.
Howls, gunfire, screams, shouts, all muffled by the haze. She made out the shadows of tho
se who fought with her, the gnarled silhouettes of what attacked. She turned toward them, but a sudden flurry of wings cut her off, left her no route but retreat.
Then Bran’s arm swung around her, nearly lifted her off her feet a second time.
“You’re too close. Stay behind me. Behind me, Sasha, and cover your eyes.”
She felt it rock the ground under her feet, sing like raw nerves up her body. Even with an arm flung over her eyes, that red light filled her head.
The power he loosed seared along her skin, swam in her blood.
She went down to her knees when her legs buckled, fingers digging into the grass as the ground shook.
“Stand clear,” he called out. “Keep back, and let me finish it.
“In my light you burn. Through our wrath you churn. Let what made you see our power, and know that in this hour as our seer did foretell, we send her dogs back to hell. By the power given me, as I will, so mote it be.”
There was a terrible scream, like a thousand voices raised in fury.
Not a thousand, Sasha realized. Just one.
Nerezza.
“Are you hurt?” Bran pulled her to her feet.
“I don’t know. You’re bleeding.” His face, she saw. His arms, his hands.
“Likely we all are. But this is done for the night. Let me clear some of the bloody smoke,” he began, but Sawyer pushed through it, an arm clutched around Annika to support her.
“She’s hurt. Her leg’s the worst.”