They were wolves, but not wolves.

They were beasts. And they were enormous—twice as wide as a human, and nearly as tall as the fire itself. Their bodies were generally wolflike, if wolves stood on two legs, had claws as long and sharp as icepicks, and narrow, gaping muzzles with fangs nearly as long as their claws.

The wicked hour had come, I thought ruefully. But these were no cryptids, no myths. They were as real as I was.

There were four of them. Going by fur: silver, brown, red, and black. But their fur was matted and bare in spots, showing what appeared to be human skin beneath. For all their bulk, they were skinny enough that bone and tendon were visible beneath that thin skin.

Stringy strength, Beth had said, and I understood now what she meant.

And since blood and human and smoke and clan were the only scents in the air, they were undeniably clan, even if their magic was fractured. How had this happened?

They stood together, swatting at the wolves as if they were nothing more than irritating pests, but they didn’t seem entirely certain what to do next. At least until the brown beast stepped forward, raised his muzzle to the sky, and let out a howl that lifted every hair on the back of my neck . . . and had the monster paying attention.

He threw out his hand and sent a black wolf flying through the air, until it landed with a horrible whimper on the dirt twenty feet away. It rolled to its belly, whimpered again. Then rose on shaky legs, shook off the fall, and prepared to lunge again.

That had been first blood, at least between beasts and wolves, and the battle began.

The remaining wolves jumped forward, Connor in the lead. I had to work to tamp down my fear and let him fight his battle. And being an immortal, I pulled the dagger from my boot.

My fangs descended, my eyes silvered. Moonlight dripping down the blade, I ran forward to a human who lay facedown in the dirt, blood streaming from her arm. Her hair was long and brown, her body petite, and I had a horrible jolt at first, thinking I’d found Carlie dead.

I steeled myself, turned her gently, checked her pulse.

The woman wasn’t dead, and she wasn’t Carlie. There was a knot on her forehead, already purpling, and a gash across her cheek. I checked for obviously broken bones, decided she wasn’t wounded enough that she couldn’t be moved. I could carry her to the house, but I’d have to go through the fighting; that was too risky. I looked around, saw the remains of a small wooden structure—three sides sheltered from the wind—in a hilly patch of green. Probably a place used to feed grazing animals, and they’d plowed around it to set seeds in the ground.

I put away the dagger, picked her up, watched the fight for my chance to cross the battleground, and when the chance came, I ran. The ground was dry and hard, the furrows trip hazards that made every step dangerous. I dodged a piece of flaming wood thrown clear of the fire as the debris pile moved, settled.

I placed her beneath the shelter. She moaned when I put her down, eyes fluttering open. “What happened?”

“Just a little mishap at the party,” I said with a light tone, since the Supernaturals were supposed to be a secret. “A very hairy mishap.”

“What—,” she began, then sat up, her eyes growing wide as she saw a beast screaming in front of the fire, the flames reflected in her eyes.

Then her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.

“Probably for the best,” I said, then rose and turned to face the battle again.

The wolves had managed to separate the beasts, were taking them on individually. Connor had Brown, and they were lunging at each other, muzzles and claws already dripping with the other’s blood.

As always, the monster was jealous—of the blood, of the power, of the fight. But there were monsters enough here, and the broken magic of whatever had made the beasts. I couldn’t risk it. Not now.

No, I said, and tried to ignore the urgency of its pleas.

It was stronger, it assured me. It would fight better, and I had made a deal.

That I was actually having a conversation with the monster was a nightmare for another time. And yes, I could have used its strength. Probably could have used its amorality. But humans here had an odd relationship with the supernatural, and we had enough to deal with. I wasn’t going to make that worse with red eyes and violence that I couldn’t control.

I can’t deal now. It’s too dangerous.

I felt its anger then, the internal burn of fury that I was denying what it wanted. I doubled over with the sharp shock of pain.

I am dangerous, it said.

The silver beast roared, drawing my attention back to the fight. Two wolves lay on the ground, chests heaving. Red was in the same shape. Only Connor and another were still fighting, their attention focused on Brown and Black.

Silver saw me and began to move forward, the earth seeming to shudder with every step. Its paws were bigger than my head, and given those claws, it wouldn’t need an aspen stake to do plenty of damage.

If it kills me while we’re arguing, I told the monster, we both die. Step back.

I put my own magic behind the demand, and all the glamour I could muster. After a moment, the pain receded, and my mind became gloriously clear. But I knew the reprieve was temporary. I’d angered it, and while I won the battle, I had a sinking feeling that I wouldn’t win the next one. And possibly not the war.

Georgia was right. It was fighting me for control. And I was losing ground. But there wasn’t time to dwell on that now. The other war still raged, and I was one of the soldiers.

I pulled my dagger out again, worked to clear my mind of all but the blade and the enemy. I was vampire. I was predator. I had skills and power of my own. And I would use them.

Twenty feet away, Silver roared again, blood and saliva dripping from its fangs. There were cuts along its torso, tufts of hair and skin hanging from its legs where the wolves had gotten purchase with fang and claw.

And it looked pissed.

“Oh good,” I said merrily, and thought of the lessons I’d learned in France, in the humid basement where I’d learn to fall and rise a thousand times. And where I’d learned to make the dance mine, not to let my attacker lead.

I had one skill I’d bet it couldn’t master.

I sucked in a breath, moved my weight to the balls of my feet, and pushed off. I ran toward it, arms and legs pumping, then pushed up, soaring into the air, dagger extended. I landed on the animal’s torso, thrust the blade into its shoulder. Its fur was crusted, and the smell was astoundingly bad—animal and dirt and a sourness that seemed to come from the magic as much as the body.

But it felt pain. It screamed, reared back. I grabbed handfuls of fur, but it twisted, and I flew, hitting the ground with a thud I could feel in every bone—and slamming my head against a furrow of brick-hard dirt.

There was a yip I recognized as Connor’s, and I glanced up, found him staring at me in concern. “I’m fine,” I called out, blinking until my vision cleared.

I looked up again, watched the beast pull out the dagger, the blade sliding wetly through muscle and flesh, and howl at the pain. It dropped the blade and turned, met my gaze.

And then it started running.

The movement was awkward—a wolf balancing on two legs attempting to imitate a human’s running form. It was trying to move like a human, I realized. Or more accurately, like a shifter in human form.

“That is some very bad magic,” I said, crawling to my feet, trying to keep the world from spinning around me.

It reached me, stretched out its awkward limbs, and swiped out. I crawled beneath its legs, kept moving toward the dagger. I heard it loping behind me, the impact of its footfalls giving me a good indication of its location. I spotted the dagger three feet away. Then two.

It swiped again, the tips of its claws burning hot across my back, and sending me across the ground. I rolled to a stop, climbed to my feet, saw it look down at the dagger as if puzzling out what to do.

It had known enough—was human enough—to pull the dagger from its shoulder. But it couldn’t quite remember how to wield it. Which was fine by me.

I scrambled to my feet, lunged for the beast again, sweeping the dagger up as I raked my nails across the dirt. I kept running, putting distance between us so I could turn and face it.

And did, brushing dirt and sweat and blood from my eyes.

I bared my fangs, hissed out an oath as the gashes in my back pulsed with pain. The beast turned again, blood seeping from its shoulder and leaving a dark stain down its torso. Baring its fangs in a kind of dare, it loped toward me again, the fury evident in its eyes.

This wasn’t just an animal fighting for territory. It was angry. Furiously angry. Because we’d interrupted it? Because we’d hurt it? Or because it just wanted to hurt, to kill?

I adjusted my fingers around the dagger’s handle, crouched just enough to keep my center of gravity low, and moved the weight on the balls of my feet. The beast reached me, swiped, and I spun to avoid the claws, slashed down across its calf as I turned. I’d hoped to sever a tendon, to put it on the ground, but its skin was tougher than I’d thought, and this time I hadn’t used my bodyweight.

I still sliced, and it still screamed, the sound high-pitched and frantic, and turned around, snatching the air to get me, to stop me. I dropped and rolled, then popped up again, slashed across the front of its other thigh. I ducked to avoid its claw, but it grazed my shoulder, sending me off-balance. I hit the dirt again, but managed to keep the dagger, rolled onto my back.

It loomed over me—firelight flickering across its face—and screamed again, its breath emitting a stench as bad as the rest of it. I changed my grip on the blade to prepare for an upward strike . . . when a human voice filled the air.

“Stop, you bastard!”

There was a mighty thud, and the beast fell to its side, revealing Carlie behind it, scratches across her face and collarbone, and a stick as thick as a baseball bat in her hands.

“Good shot,” I said, and began to climb to my feet.

Carlie smiled, dropped the stick. “Thank you! I was afraid it was about to—”

That was all she managed to say, because the beast was up again and, in the space of a heartbeat, caught her in its jaws and ran toward the woods.