The phantoms were gruesome contenders. They dragged the wolves from Mr. Hughes, and a few of them held shadowy weapons that they jabbed at the Weres. Her pack was quick and avoided the worst of the blows. She heard grunts and cries and howls, and she wanted more than anything to clear the area. She glanced at Rhonda and felt a wave of sympathy for the young girl. Jasmine clambered to her other foot and unsteadily stood upright. The worst of the magic was fading, though it was like she was walking through water.

  Despite the plea in Rhonda’s eyes, Jasmine stumbled to Eli. A phantom swiped at her, but she managed to stagger to the side, and the phantom was distracted by Delilah. Jasmine fell on top of Eli, her arms stretched over his flank. Their eyes met.

  “Eli…” Jasmine breathed. “You have to get Rhonda out of here. Please…Can you stand?”

  Eli’s breaths were pained and labored. She heard his voice in her mind, as she had the first night she met him. I…can try…

  He tensed his muscles, struggling to rise onto his knees. Jasmine worked to scoop her arms under him, helping him to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, then shook his head carefully. The skin was stretched and pink where Mr. Hughes’ hands had been.

  “Take her,” Jasmine instructed. “Promise me you’ll both get to safety.”

  Eli held her gaze for a moment.

  “Promise!” Jasmine urged.

  Eli gave a stern nod, then galloped toward Rhonda. The first few steps were treacherous, but as he cleared space between himself and the attackers, he grew more confident.

  A dark shape rose beside him, emerging from the ground like a gopher with no hole. A clawed, bloody hand slashed at the stag as he passed, and a large gouge appeared along his flank.

  Eli stumbled, but his momentum carried him forward. He steeled himself and reached Rhonda, then bowed his front legs while Rhonda climbed uncertainly onto his back. Jasmine had enough time to see Rhonda stretch out an arm toward her before Eli galloped into the forest. The last she saw of them was the rustling brush as they faded into the shadows.

  “Please…” she muttered. “Be safe…”

  Delilah appeared naked beside her. “Are you okay, Jasmine?”

  Jasmine tested her movement, shrugging her shoulders. “As okay as I can be. What took you guys so long?”

  “Forgive us,” Del replied. “We didn’t know that you’d be visiting us tonight. Had you given us advance notice, we could have formed a welcome party.”

  “Well, at least you’re here now,” Jasmine replied. She placed a hand over the small squishy lump in her pocket. “Let’s get this fucking thing over with.”

  Without reply, Delilah shifted back into her wolf pelt. Jasmine charged toward Mr. Hughes, who was finally shaking free of the wolves while many of them were engaged in scraps with the phantom spirits. He slapped at those nearby, sending them flying back, and as Jasmine sprinted at him, she waited for the right time to strike.

  Their eyes met.

  Mr. Hughes stared daggers. “You…”

  “Me,” Jasmine confirmed as her claws sprung from her fingers.

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Mr. Hughes bellowed. “What you’ve stolen from me.”

  Jasmine cricked her neck. “Allow me to give it back to you.”

  Steeled by the presence of the bereginya doll in her pocket, she dashed at Mr. Hughes. He ran at her, and she thought about shifting to hell-hide but decided not to. If her clothes were to rip, the bereginya could fall from her person.

  It was going to have to be mano a mano.

  Mr. Hughes struck Jasmine’s chin, and her teeth clapped together. All around them, she was aware of the wolves and the phantoms, but her pack did well to keep them at bay so she could focus on her task at hand. She collected herself and struck her claws into Mr. Hughes’ stomach. She struck again with the other hand, burying her hands deep into his vital organs.

  A wave of confusion crossed his face, and she saw real pain in his eyes. Jasmine held his gaze as she withdrew a bloodied hand and slashed his wrist. His mammoth hand fell to the ground with a wet thud, and he stared at his hand and his stump while Jasmine held him in her grip. She wasn’t certain this would work, but as the seconds passed, his bloodied stump showed no sign of healing and the hand on the ground showed no sign of drawing magnetically back to his body. Black blood dripped steadily from the wound, and fear and relief flooded Mr. Hughes’ eyes.

  “I told you,” Jasmine reminded him.

  “I…” Mr. Hughes gasped. “It’s not possible…”

  “If you want death, let me grant it to you,” Jasmine replied. “All you have to do is ask.”

  Mr. Hughes struggled for a long moment while he decided what to do. He glanced at Jasmine, then his hand on the ground, and back to her. He took a deep, pained breath as he returned his gaze to her. She felt his body pulsing around her buried hand as a decision settled in his eyes.

  “Jasmine…I…” He was never able to finish.

  A sudden explosion of water sounded from the surface of the lake, and every head on the bluff turned to the latest distraction.

  Jasmine tore her hands from Mr. Hughes’ body and sprinted to the edge. What little color she had drained from her face. She stared down in horror as ripples ran in concentric circles from the lake’s surface. Water spray darkened the muddied edges of the pool. Two shadowy figures rose from the center, the water parting before them as though great, invisible hands were keeping the waters at bay.

  The battle paused, and silence descended on the bluff as Tylindale stepped from the pool toward a flat rock at its edge. Deshawne hung limply in his arms. Both of their bodies were dripping wet but otherwise unblemished by attack or wound.

  Jasmine’s heart sank. She glanced over at Delilah and saw a reflection of her same stare as they both asked two silent questions of each other. How is this possible? And what the hell were they supposed to do now?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The night held its breath, and silence pressed on them like a weighted blanket as Tylindale left the lake carrying Deshawne, two monsters who both should have died in that lake.

  Jasmine’s father placed Deshawne down, cradling him as delicately as he might a lover. Deshawne showed no sign of life.

  Delilah shifted closer to Jasmine, fascination holding them captive as Tylindale knelt beside Deshawne and placed his hands on his lap. He closed his eyes, falling into a meditative state as his hands glowed with a dull blue flame.

  “What’s happening, Jasmine?” Delilah asked.

  Jasmine didn’t know how to reply.

  Deshawne’s body jerked. It was difficult to see from here, but Jasmine thought she could make out a ribbon of shadow energy making its way from Deshawne’s chest into her father.

  “Shit,” Jasmine muttered. She looked around and saw Qadir finally stepping into the clearing. She’d needed him earlier, but at least he was here now. He followed her gaze, and when they looked back at each other, he nodded and sprinted toward the downslope of the bluff.

  His sudden burst kicked the enemy back into action. The phantoms swamped him, blocking his way, circling Qadir with darkness. He fought to keep them at bay with his flaming blue hands. Jasmine was dismayed to see Tylindale’s men had joined the fight in full force, now that their work with the chains was complete. The chains evaporated into amorphous smoke that trailed back to the top of the bluff. The phantoms who had formed the chains coalesced into their native forms, and Jasmine’s pack was outnumbered.

  Some of the wolves were already back at it, darting at the enemy in an attempt to distract and destroy them. Beside her, she saw Gloria dragging down a phantom with her powerful bite. Travis was across the way, avoiding the attacks from a zombified goon, darting between their legs and dizzying his foe.

  Jasmine glanced back to her father, distressed to see Deshawne’s body jerking violently on the rock as though electrical currents were passing through his body. Pieces of his skin appeared to flake away as his body shriveled under the extraction. Her father raised his face to the sky, eyes closed as he absorbed the power he’d been hunting for.

  Qadir cried out as a phantom broke his defenses and sent him back. The spirits Qadir had raised glowed blue and fought the good fight, holding back the worst of the phantoms, but it was clear the fight was not going his way.

  A phantom loomed over Qadir, staring down with vapid eyes. In his hand, he held a spear made of shadow.

  She broke away from Delilah to help Qadir. Before she got far, a large gray mountain stepped in her way.

  Mr. Hughes stared down at her with hungry delight. “Master’s back,” he crowed. “Seems your way of killing wasn’t quite so effective. And there was me hoping…”

  Jasmine made to run past Mr. Hughes, but he blocked her with a meaty fist. “Uh-uh. Not so fast. I’m sure your father will want to speak to you when this is all said and done.”

  “Go fuck yourself.” Jasmine stabbed her claws into Mr. Hughes’ chest. His eyes widened with pain as Jasmine called for Delilah to help.

  Quick to see Jasmine’s plight, Delilah summoned half a dozen nearby Weres to swarm with her. They rushed Mr. Hughes, once again creating the perfect moment of distraction for Jasmine to peel herself away and rush to Qadir.

  Her heart dropped at what she saw. Qadir was in trouble. The native fought to drive the spear down into Qadir’s chest, only to be blocked by a small shield of blue energy. Qadir’s face was screwed in concentration as the phantom stoically continued its efforts. With each passing second, the spear inched closer to Qadir’s sternum.

  Jasmine sprinted toward them, her head lowered as her feet pounded the ground. She lunged at the phantom, surprised at how solid the shadow felt as her claws entered his midriff. Her momentum sent them crashing to the ground together.

  The phantom collected itself quickly. It was terrifying to behold, over six feet tall with muscles built for Muscle Beach. The emptiness of its dark eyes was alarming, but it confirmed Jasmine’s belief that nothing human remained in these creatures. Destroying the phantoms would right history and let the dead settle again.

  She cried out as the phantom sped toward her, jerking its spear at her hip. The solid shadow broke her skin, and she returned the blow with swift slashes at the phantom’s throat.

  The phantom stiffened.

  “Get clear,” Qadir instructed her. His hands blazed a fiery blue. “Allow me…”

  Jasmine jumped free of the phantom and stood beside Qadir. Qadir spoke ancient words with his gaze fixed on the native until the shadow dissipated and sank back into the ground.

  Jasmine looked at Qadir, impressed. “You couldn’t do that with the lot of them?”

  “How powerful do you think I am?” Qadir returned as the cries and grunts of battle continued behind them. “I’m not your father.”

  “Speaking of…” Jasmine hurried to the edge of the rock, desperation growing as her father progressed at an alarming rate. Deshawne shrank in his body, reminding Jasmine of a moment from an Indiana Jones film in which an explorer rotted into dust where he stood. Tylindale remained calm, frozen like a statue, while Deshawne jittered and quivered on the rock, his essence draining into the necromancer.

  “Go!” Jasmine bellowed at Qadir. “Now!”

  “I need to get closer,” Qadir exclaimed.

  Jasmine pointed to the slope. “Then run! I’ll cover you.”

  Qadir took off, and the phantoms rose alongside him, marching to prevent his arrival at the lake. Jasmine caught up swiftly and slashed at the dark sentinels, working to avoid tripping over roots and debris as they inched their way toward the lake. As they drew nearer, they felt the power exuded from her father’s magic, and each step became more cumbersome. Qadir zeroed in on her father, and his hands blazed with blue fire as he began his incantation. Jasmine darted around him, fighting back the shadows until they were finally free and on the home stretch.

  Above them, the silhouettes of wolves and zombies and phantoms decorated the bluff, lit by the peeking moon beyond dark clouds. The sound was haunting, and Jasmine knew she could never understand how dire the circumstances were. She knew necromancy was dangerous and powerful, but she couldn’t begin to guess at the power her father would have if this process were to succeed.

  The closer they drew, the more horrified Jasmine was at what was happening. They skirted the lake, dashing toward the pair.

  Deshawne’s skin was stretched taut across his face, and his eyes only showed white. He shuddered, and his body twisted into shapes and positions it shouldn’t be capable of. Tylindale knelt nearby as though nothing untoward was happening, as though this were an everyday experience.

  Qadir pulled to a stop ten feet away from his former master. Jasmine stood behind him with her claws drawn and the bereginya resting in her pocket. She could do nothing but watch. She didn’t know what the consequences would be if she killed her father. Perhaps the black magic would fly away and corrupt the world around her. Perhaps it would sink into the ground and be gone forever. It was all down to Qadir now.

  Delilah howled somewhere far away. Qadir concentrated his attention on Tylindale, his hands glowing brighter than Jasmine had seen before. The steady stream of shadow that had been running from Deshawne to Tylindale broke momentarily, and Deshawne’s body calmed. Qadir pushed his hands forward, and a steady stream of blue energy joined the stream, twisting around what remained of Tylindale’s efforts until the shadow fighting with the light formed a writhing orb that hovered above Deshawne’s body.

  The light clearly showed Deshawne’s dried, shriveled face. It was a shell of what he had been. Once, his cheeks had been rosy and plump. His lips had been pink and full. His eyes had been sparkling jewels that captured Jasmine’s interest, and they were gone, too. Yellow-tinged white orbs rested in his sockets, and it was all Jasmine could do to turn her attention back to the battle between her father and Qadir.

  The glowing orb was small to begin with, the size of a pool ball. Despite the effort and the interruption, Tylindale showed no sign that anything untoward was happening. The ball grew to the size of a football, then a beach ball. Waves of pulsing energy disturbed the air. Jasmine’s hair rose and fell behind her, and Qadir’s clothes billowed in rhythm with each pulse. Up on the bluff, the fighting was slowing as, one by one, figures stood at the edge to watch what was happening below.

  “Qadir?” Jasmine asked softly.

  Qadir growled, his teeth clenched as he used what energy he had to fight. The ball grew larger until it seemed to be the only light source around—a large, full moon wreathed in shadow and blue flame.

  It disappeared. One minute the orb was there, and the next, it was gone. The darkness resumed for a microsecond, and Jasmine took a single breath.

  The orb detonated.

  The pulse of energy was cataclysmic, sending Jasmine and Qadir flying several feet back. Those on the edge of the bluff disappeared from sight. The surrounding trees bowed back with force. The water rippled in the wake of the pulse, dampening the shore on the far side of the lake. Birds in hiding shot off into the sky, many of them struggling to maintain equilibrium under the power of the unseen force.

  Jasmine smacked her ass on the ground. Qadir rolled beside her.

  “Qadir? Are you okay?” Jasmine asked, pushing herself to her stomach.

  Qadir grumbled. He sat up, a hand pressed to his head which displayed a deep gash. He glanced at the bluff and pointed. “Look.”

  For a moment, Jasmine couldn’t see what he was pointing to. Then, it hit her. The phantoms were gone. In the wake of the pulse, they must have faded back to where they had come from. All that remained now were the wolves and the zombie goons.

  Qadir rose beside her and drew her attention back to the rock on the side of the lake.

  No… That’s impossible, she thought.

  Jasmine and Qadir turned their gaze to Tylindale. Though the whole world around them had shifted in the wake of the pulse, Tylindale remained where he had been, with not a hair out of place. The husk of Deshawne remained on the ground, a haunting vision of death.

  Jasmine took a single step toward her father. At her movement, his eyes snapped open. Rather than the cool, calculating eyes she had looked into before, they blazed with a dark fire. He flexed his fingers and examined the feel of the energy he had received.

  Tylindale turned his attention to Qadir and Jasmine. His smile grew as he rose to his feet. Power exuded from him in waves. “Witness it, Jasmine. Witness the limits of the world and the magic of immortality.” He laughed coolly and stared at his hands in wonder. “The power…the possibility…”

  Qadir’s lip curled as his hands reignited with flame. Before he could hurl any magic at Tylindale, Tylindale threw his hands out to Qadir. Jasmine expected dark shadows to writhe toward him, but to her horror, Deshawne was the projectile.

  The husk of her former lover leaped to his feet and dashed at Qadir. There seemed to be nothing left to him. His skin was wet paper stretched over sticks. Still, he rushed at Qadir with unbound energy and knocked him to the ground. Deshawne attached like a feral creature, slashing sharp fingers at him.

  Jasmine peeled her attention from her father to help Qadir. She lunged at the pitiful creature, driving her claws into what remained of his body. Qadir pushed at Deshawne as Jasmine ripped him to pieces, though with each grunt of pain that came from Qadir’s lips, Jasmine grew more feverish.

  She kicked Deshawne’s body and sent him sprawling beside Qadir. Before he could scramble to his feet and resume his attack, Jasmine slashed at his neck, her claws splitting what remained of the skin and severing his head clean from his body.

  Qadir pushed himself away from the corpse.

  Jasmine watched carefully to see if the head would pull itself back to Deshawne’s torso by necrotic magnetism. The pieces didn’t move, though, which gave Jasmine only a little comfort as lumbering footsteps sounded from behind.