For days he hovered between life and death, even with the care of a healer. His hair, gone gray, fell around a face honed by sickness and starvation to prophet’s point.

But he survived.

In the weeks that followed, he regained his strength and his mind cleared. He explained kindly, gently, to the healer who’d saved him with her gifts that her powers were ungodly, urged her to repent, felt sorrow when she refused to reject her demon.

He preached in that same gentle way to all who would listen, and to many who wouldn’t. When he was strong enough, he walked among them, a thin man with kind, compelling eyes who spoke of a world without weapons, without death, a world of peace and prayer.

Of a valley blessed and a holy mountaintop where those who followed him would live forever.

When he walked away from the settlement, two went with him.

By the time he reached Tennessee, he had twelve apostles, and created the commandments told to him by angels in his dreams.

Only those infected by demons who repented would be allowed to enter onto the blessed land.

No member of the faithful would own or use a weapon of any kind. A knife used for harvesting roots or in preparation of food would be sanctified.

No animal flesh would be consumed, nor any part of a living creature used by the faithful.

What belonged to one, belonged to all.

Women, from the age of twelve, would fulfill their divine duty and seek to conceive and so propagate the earth with the faithful.

None would lift a hand in anger or strike a blow.

Any who used the power of the demon would be banished from the holy land.

As he walked east (his angels forbade the use of any motorized vehicle) his flock ebbed and flowed. Of the thirty faithful who rested for two weeks near Shelbyville for a birthing, only eighteen escaped an attack by a scouting party of Raiders.

Those left behind, living or dead, had gone to glory, Javier explained. The sacrifice demanded by the divine was for the others to walk on.

Some died of illness or in birthing. Some fled in the night. Others joined simply for the safety in numbers, and most of them fell away.

On a day green with spring, three years after his redemption, he led his flock of twenty-three—to the mountaintop.

And there, his gray-streaked hair flowing, his sunbaked face luminous, his eyes kind and crazed, he opened his arms to the valley below.

In this sacred valley, we will live, he told them. In this cup of holy ground we will worship. And with our prayers and with our faith, the world will be cleansed as we are cleansed, and made worthy for the coming of the divine.

It took days to reach the valley, and there the river flowing through it swelled with the beat of spring rain. They built their fires, pitched their tents.

Women, as their hands and hearts were more pure, prepared the meal of berries and oats. Men, as their backs were stronger, their minds keener, gathered stones and twigs and mud to build stronger shelters.

There in that quiet valley, a devout madman created his image of peace.

Eight years later, Duncan crouched on the snow-covered ground. Dusk sighed down, thin and gray. Through it he studied the commune.

“No defenses. Nada,” he said in amazement to Will. “No guards, no checkpoints. Jeez, Suzanne tried to warn them, and they ignored her, preached at her. They didn’t listen, so now the enemy could settle down on one of those ridges, pick them off like flies.”

Will nodded, shifted slightly while his eyes, dark blue, scanned the ridge. “I figure they’ll put some up there, pick off runners. They’re going to want to capture plenty. Executions are their big show.”

Beside them, Eddie grunted. His straw-colored hair straggled out from under the black ski cap Fred had knitted for him.

“They got themselves a freaking carnival ride here, man. Not only no defenses, but who the hell camps where you’ve got no way out? You make it to the river, then what the fuck? Can’t swim across this time of year for sure. Cold’ll kill you sure as a bullet. You got the mountain blocking that way. Head for the woods, okay, how far you gonna get? Not a one of them wearing decent boots. And, dude, what’s up with those weird-ass robes?”

Flynn, half in, half out of a tree, laid a hand on the head of his wolf. “We can ask them about their wardrobe after we save their pious asses. Starr and I can get closer from this point.”

Starr, quiet as smoke, eased out of a tree, simply nodded. If she could say something in two words, she wouldn’t use three.

“Steve and Connor move in from that point.” Flynn gestured toward a band of trees where others waited, including the two elves.

“Okay then.” Will shifted. “Let them know.”

Easily done, as elves could communicate mind to mind.

“And let’s have Maggie take her group up to that ridge. Any PWs who move up there need to be taken out, quietly. Eddie?”

“My man.”

“Take your team to the south end with Jonah’s. The PWs will be coming soon.”

“They’re coming now.” Flynn, tall, lean as a whippet, angled his head. His eyes, sharp green, narrowed. “I hear engines.”

“Elf ears,” Eddie noted.

“Direction?”

“Southeast. Maybe a quarter of a mile.” Flynn glanced toward Starr for confirmation, then held up a hand. “They stopped.”

“Coming on foot, bigger surprise. Take positions,” Will ordered. “Let’s ambush the ambushers.”

As they moved into positions, Duncan watched the targets gather together. They came—in those weird-ass robes and strange shoes—out of tents and what looked like huts of mud and freaking twigs to stand in a circle around a central fire.

Kids, too, he noted. Babies carried in slings.

No one spoke. When one of the babies squalled, the woman carrying it bared her breast, offered it.

Then there was silence, just the wind sloughing through the trees, as the circle, even the children, drew hoods over their heads, and bowed them.

Sitting ducks, he thought. Every last one of them. The wind kicked up the robes some, exposing bare legs that had to be freezing.

A man came out of one of the huts, long, unbound gray-streaked hair blowing. He moved into the middle of the circle. He lifted his arms high.

“We are the Chosen.”

“Let us be worthy,” the circle responded.

“We have been sinners, all.”

“We do repent.”

“Do you reject the demon inside you?”

“We do reject him and all his evils.”

“Do you embrace the divine?”

“We do embrace him. And we pray for his embrace.”

During the call and response, Duncan edged over until he was shoulder to shoulder with Tonia. “If the faeries can’t manage to pluck up all the kids,” he whispered, “we need to block them or herd them toward the woods, where we can pick them up after.”

“There are three women with babies. If we can’t get the women clear, we get the babies clear.”

Two infants, he counted, and one maybe a year or so. “Agreed.”

“Dunc? They’re a bunch of lunatics.”

“Oh, yeah, but that doesn’t mean they deserve to be slaughtered.”

“No, but we save their butts tonight, even get them out of here to safety? They’re just going to come back. Because they’re lunatics.”

Though he didn’t disagree, he shrugged. Tonight was tonight. Tomorrow was whatever it was. Plus, the chance to take on and defeat a squad of PWs couldn’t be overstated.

He wanted the battle.

Will held up a hand, then seven fingers before pointing to the ridge.

Comm from the elves, Duncan thought. Seven PWs moving up to the ridge. Then he pointed toward Eddie’s position, flashed ten fingers twice. Twenty moving toward the south of the camp. Fifteen, Duncan confirmed, reading the next signal, heading west—their position. And another eight moving east.

With a team of six spreading out through the woods—a cleanup crew, Duncan concluded.

Elves were damn handy, and a lot quieter than walkies.

He heard the movement, the snap of a twig, while the group around the fire continued to call and respond about angels and demons. He touched a hand to his sister’s knee.