THE CROWD ERUPTED AROUND Gideon. 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 outnumbered and outgunned.
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. It was Nicolas 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.
Laila’s grip tightened on her pistol.
Nicolas’s gaze held Gideon’s. “Do not obey her. Do not stand down.”
Cressida pressed the barrel harder into his temple. Her dark eyes flashed. “Bring me the weapons, Gideon.”
“Remember what it was like when we lived at their mercy.”
Cressida looked sharply down, staring at her quarry. “Nicolas,” she crooned softly. Deceptively. Gideon knew that voice. His senses heightened, morphing into fear. “Stop talking.”
“Commander,” he warned. “Respectfully, I think you should do as she says.”
Nicolas glanced from Gideon to Laila and back. They may have beaten his body, but his spirit was fully intact. He looked not resigned, but resolved. “Think of what she will do to the ones you love. Think of what she will do to you. Do you want to live like that again? Or do you—”
A shot rang out.
Gideon flinched.
Laila sucked in a breath.
Silence bled through the square as the Commander’s body tipped slowly forward, collapsing in a heap. His eyes were blank as they stared at Gideon.
A cold numbness spread through Gideon’s chest. He stared at his mentor—a man who’d been like a father to him—now dead on the stones.
“That’s enough of that,” said Cressida. “Papa …”
Laila moved, forcing Gideon to move, too. Sheathing his pistol, he grabbed her hard around the middle, stopping her from going anywhere near the witch.
“I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you!” Laila bucked against him. “Let me go, Gideon!!”
Gideon wrestled the gun out of her hand and threw it on the ground in front of Cressida. His arms pinned Laila against his chest, immobilizing her.
“Let me go let me go let me go …”
She was weeping now. Begging. Gideon held on tighter. This wasn’t the Laila he knew. Laila was tough. Resilient. Indestructible.
He couldn’t let Cressida break her, too.
“Keep your head,” he said again, fury bunching his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was speaking the words to Laila, or himself. “It’s what your father would want you to do.”
This was why the revolution had needed to happen. It was why Gideon became a witch hunter. To never again be at their mercy. To ensure none of them returned to power.
“Gideon?”
Gideon looked to find Alex standing next to him. His brother’s wrists were free of shackles, and his hands held out the coat of a Blood Guard officer, swooped like a basket. Inside were the guns of Gideon’s soldiers. Alex was collecting them for the witch queen.
Rune and Seraphine stood beside him.
There was an unspoken apology in Alex’s eyes as he held out the coat, waiting for Gideon to add his pistol to the pile. Gideon wanted to spit on his apology. Alex had clearly lied about killing the youngest Roseblood sister on the night of the revolution. It made him wonder how far back his brother’s involvement in this conspiracy went.
Alex was as complicit as Rune.
Gideon released Laila, who fell to her knees weeping, then dropped his gun in with the rest.
“You don’t know what you’ve done.”
Alex said nothing. Only turned to deliver the guns, followed by Rune and Seraphine. Gideon watched his brother lay the weapons at Cressida’s
feet. Watched the smile spread across her lips. It was the smile from his nightmares. The smile of someone who knew the power they wielded over you, and wanted you to know it, too.
The smile of a monster back from the dead.
Cressida lifted her pistol, this time pointing it directly at him. “One more thing,” she said. “You’re coming with us, Gideon.” He almost laughed. “No, thank you. I’d rather be dead.”
That smile slid away.
“Would you rather her be dead?” She pointed the gun at Laila, who was still on her knees.
Gideon stepped in front of Laila, shielding her from the bullet. “You’ll find there are a lot of us who’d choose death over cowering before you again, Cress.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Fair enough,” she said, aiming her pistol at his chest.
Gideon waited for the bullet. Welcoming it. He hoped death would come swiftly.
Except the bullet never came.
When the gun went off, his brother stepped in front of it.
