Child of Fire

and snapped at me, throwing itself against the splintering wood, forcing itself into the room.

I dropped a piece of chain down the barrel of the rifle. I held the shoulder stock low and the muzzle up, so the chain wouldn’t slide out.

The black wolf lunged at me. Saliva splashed against my face. The creature’s jaws gaped.

I jammed the rifle barrel down the wolf’s throat, as deep as it would go. Then I tilted it up. I heard the chain slide down the barrel.

The wolf yelped. It froze in place for just a moment, its eyes widening, then started to pull back.

Before I could even think about it, the ghost knife flew into my hand. I slashed it across the wolf’s throat. The gun fell backward and so did I.

The wolf tried to scream, but a solid inch of gun barrel was stuck in the back of its throat. It tried to retch. It wrenched itself back through the broken door and fell to the floor, shuddering.

“What do you know?” I said quietly. “It worked.” The gun barrel was cut at a slant now. I felt a twinge of guilt at ruining what looked to be a family heirloom.

I tried to slide a second piece of chain into the barrel, but my hands were shaking too badly. Mustache reached over my shoulder and held the weapon steady.

My thanks were drowned out by howls from the hallway. Luke called Wiley’s name. I glanced through the hole in the door and caught a glimpse of pale, blubbery flesh. Wiley had turned back into a human. Damn, it was like the movies.

I slid another length of chain down the barrel. “I’m sorry about the gun,” I said.

“Forget the gun, boy,” Mustache answered. “Just don’t let those bastards in here.”

“Fair enough.” I slashed the ghost knife through the barrel, cutting it at a sharp angle. Then I shaved the leading edge until it came to a rough point. It wasn’t as sharp as a spear, but it might do the job if I put my back into it.

Mustache gaped at me, the end of his rifle, and the ghost knife in turn. “What-“

“Don’t ask,” I said. “National security.”

His mouth snapped shut. I glanced over at Arlene and Miriam, who were still crouching on the floor. Arlene’s face was blank with terror, but Miriam, holding her dead husband’s hand, looked at me with deep suspicion.

The Dubois brothers were still making a racket in the hall. I heard a slapping sound as Luke tried to revive his brother.

“I guess you have reason to be afraid again, huh, Luke?” I felt dizzy and manic. It felt good to have a weapon, even a hack one. A swatch of gray-flecked fur moved past the hole. I knelt and leaned toward it. A chance to kill Emmett was too good to miss.

A section of door burst open, and Luke’s arm smashed through the damaged wood. Before I could react, he ripped the rifle out of my hands.

Shit. I rolled back on my heels and started to stand, and I bumped into Mustache’s big soft belly. I reached for the rifle stock, but Luke ripped it through the broken door.

The ruined door splintered apart, and a flash of red and black burst into the room. I threw myself at it, feeling a chunk of wood strike my ear as I lunged. The wolf stumbled coming through the door, giving me the split second I needed.

Someone from the other side of the door shouted: “Sugar! Don’t!” It wasn’t Luke’s voice. It was Emmett.

I landed on its back, plunging the ghost knife into the back of its head.

The wolf faltered but didn’t go down, even with my full weight on it. I caught the ghost knife in my teeth, freeing my hands. I wrapped my arms around the wolf’s neck.

It tried to turn itself around to snap at me, but I held on, refusing to let it turn. It tried to wriggle backward out of my grip, but I swung my legs against its hind legs, knocking it to the floor. It took every ounce of strength I had, and I knew I couldn’t hold it for long.

I dipped my head, jabbing the ghost knife into the wolf’s back. It weakened, but only a little. Its feet scrabbled against the floor, twisting its body away from me and threatening to steal my only leverage. I started to lose my hold on him.

“My God!” Mustache shouted from behind me. “They’re cutting him wide open!” I had no idea what he was talking about.

The ghost knife wasn’t working. The Dubois brothers had a greater resistance to my spell than anyone I’d ever met. I knew I couldn’t stay in this position for long-the wolf would eventually scramble out from under me and I’d have no way to hold those teeth at bay any longer. I needed a plan.

The only idea that came to me was the open window. The fall wouldn’t kill Sugar, I figured, but it would put some distance between us. Maybe I could get Miriam, Arlene, and Mustache to a safe place in the time it took the wolf to come at me again.

But I had no way of gaining my feet without losing my hold.

Then I felt something. It was a sensation of power, somewhat like Annalise’s iron-gate spell when I first stole it from her so many months ago. I felt it just under my chest, in the wolf’s back. I lowered my head and slashed the ghost knife toward it.

The fur on the wolf’s back suddenly erupted in a jet of black steam and sparks. The wolf howled, and I felt the steam scald my left shoulder and neck. I tried to hold on, but the pain was too much. I shoved the wolf away from me.

It staggered back. It had blurred and become indistinct, as though some parts of it were appearing out of or receding into a fog. It was as if I was looking at two superimposed versions of the same being. The wolf was fading, and the man was reappearing.