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.

s.h.i.+t. I rolled back on my heels and started to stand, and I b.u.mped 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 G.o.d!" 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.

The paws became hands. The fur became skin. The snout became Sugar's face. The magic was still pouring out of him in iron-gray sparks and jets of black steam.

I lunged at him, grabbed him by the arm, and rushed him toward the window. Arlene and Miriam had to pull their legs back as we pa.s.sed. Sugar had difficulty keeping up with me, but he was dazed enough to try.

We reached the window, and I heaved him through it.

He was still changing as he vanished below the sill. I didn't hear him scream.

Mustache elbowed past me and looked out the window. "Sweet Jesus," he said, "please have mercy on this sinner, as you have mercy on all of us sinners."

I backed away from him. I didn't want to see Sugar's body, and I didn't want to pray for his salvation. I wasn't that good a person.

"Sugar!" Emmett yelled. "Sugar!"

"He's waiting for you outside," I said nastily. "In the parking lot."

I heard retreating steps. They were going. Thank G.o.d.

"We did it," I said.

"You did it, son." Mustache clapped me on the shoulder. "Good work."

I looked over at Frank. He was stretched out on his bed with the single bullet hole in his forehead. It didn't seem like good work to me. I felt like a screwup of the first order. If I'd skipped a visit to Peter Lemly's house, if I'd looked at the newspaper sooner, if I'd been more forceful when I'd told Lemly to hold off on the story, I might have saved Frank's life, and the lives of the others, too.

"What did I just see?" Miriam said. She struggled off the floor and helped Arlene up, too. "What was that? Was that Sugar Dubois?"

"I think we know what we saw," Arlene said. "I just have a hard time believing it."

I rushed to the window and looked out along the ledge. Cynthia and the doctor were not there. I looked down at the parking lot, but I saw only the bodies of Mr. Rake-Thin Arms and Sugar Dubois. Had Cynthia gotten away? I hoped so. I hoped I wouldn't see her again. I hoped she would go far away from here, and that I'd never have to cut the iron gate off of her, or use her to hunt and kill her brother.

Miriam approached me. She pulled the front of my s.h.i.+rttail, exposing two more bullet holes across my stomach. One was so low that it was almost below my tattoos-that bullet could have shattered my hip.

I also noticed that my right forearm was b.l.o.o.d.y. I glanced down and saw that wooden splinters from the door had jabbed through my skin on the inside of my arm. The cuts were few and shallow; I'd hurt myself worse shaving. Still, I was surprised that I hadn't even felt it. I began to pluck the splinters out.

"Are you one of them?" Miriam asked me. Her face was flushed and her eyes were wild. "Are you cursed?"

"I can't do what they did," I told her.

"But are you cursed? Have you sold your soul, the way they did?"

Mustache laid his hand on her arm. "Miriam, he just fought for us-"

"Be quiet, Walt! I have to know." She waited for my answer.

My adrenaline high was wearing off, and I felt shaky and exhausted. I was tempted to tell her what she could do with herself, but I'd promised to help her and I'd failed. If Walt could pray for the souls of the people who had just tried to tear him apart, I could at least comfort her with lies.

I'd spent enough time in a cell with a reformed preacher to know generally what to say. "I can't tell you very much," I told her. "I swore an oath not to. I was a sinner, like everyone, and I'm still a sinner, but an angel with a flaming sword and a crown of light appeared to me, and... I can't tell you more. I shouldn't even have said-"

She laid her hand on my arm. "Thank you."

"You should get out of town now."

Someone banged on the door. "What's going on in there? Open up!"

I spun toward the door, but it was only more hospital security guards peeping at us through the broken door. I moved toward it to unlock it, but Arlene grabbed my elbow.

"What about me?" she asked. "One of them bit me. Does that mean... am I going to become one of them?"

She looked at me as if I was an expert. I knew how it felt to want to know but not have answers.

But I didn't have any answers for her. Silver had hurt one, yes, but that didn't mean these were Hollywoodstyle werewolves. For all I knew, the Dubois brothers could change into ten different animals, not just wolves.

"I can't answer that," I told her. "I'm sorry. I honestly don't know."

Arlene turned to Miriam. "I can't go with you, dear. I can't go anywhere until I know."

Miriam clutched at Arlene's injured hand. Arlene winced, but Miriam was too rattled to notice.

I turned to Mustache. "Walt, is it?" He nodded. "I need you to drive Miriam out of town. You're going to take Arlene's car because it's already packed."

Miriam turned back to the hospital bed. "Frank..."

"I'm sorry," I said to her. "I'm sorry I didn't do better."

"My father hated him," she said. "Said he was a weakling. He even said it to Frank's face once. But he was such a sweet man, and so funny. He always knew how to make me laugh. Lord, how can I leave him like this?"

She moved toward Frank's body, but I caught hold of her and steered her toward Walt. "Take her now. Right away."

Arlene pressed the keys into Walt's hand. "Don't worry," Walt said. "This sort of trouble can be cleared up pretty quickly. Then we'll get you back to see about your Frank."

Someone had finally brought keys for the door. Security guards unlocked it and swung it open, peering carefully around the doorjamb as if afraid we might start shooting at them.

The hall was full of blood and bodies. Wiley Dubois was gone. Had they taken his body away, or had he survived the silver I had jammed down his throat?

"They cut him open," Walt said to me. "Emmett and Luke cut Wiley open like he was a fish and dug that bit of silver out of him. I guess the fat son of a somethin' must have survived."

"Guess so." I gently shoved the others toward the door, and we all walked into the hall. "Don't look at them," I said. "Just keep going." Something heavy banged against my hip. I still had Cabot's gun in my pocket. I'd forgotten all about it.

"Hold it right there," a man said. He stepped through the bodies to bar our way. He was wearing a cheap suit and a name tag that identified him as head of security. "You're all going to have to wait for the police."

Miriam started laughing. It was a frightening sound.

Arlene stepped up to the man in the suit. "It was the police who did all this."

A young woman in a doctor's jacket came around the edge of the hallway and moved toward the bodies. She knelt down and began checking Rev. Wilson for life signs. She didn't look like she expected to find any.

"What are you saying?"

Arlene stepped up close to the head of security and read his name carefully. "Listen to me, Mr. Arnold Reyes. Luke Dubois just killed the mayor, and several of the people who tried to stop him. We're going to take the mayor's wife out of town until the FBI, state police, or an angry mob does something about the Dubois brothers. Hopefully, it will be something brutal that leaves them in lots of tiny pieces. And if you try to contact Emmett, or if you get in our way, you're going to be very glad that you're already in a hospital."

Mr. Arnold Reyes let Walt and Miriam pa.s.s. "Who's going to explain this?"

The young doctor stood. "They're all dead," she said. I gestured toward Arlene's hand. The doctor bent over the injury and studied it carefully with gloved hands. "This will need to be bandaged, but no st.i.tches, I should think."

I looked up. Cynthia was standing beside me. The cardiologist was right beside her. He looked rattled. Cynthia was pale. I let out a deep, relieved sigh. They'd found a safe way inside after all.

"This dude is going to explain it all," I said to Arnold Reyes and waved to the cardiologist. "Come here, hero. You get to tell everyone what happened."

"But I don't know what happened." The tall doctor looked like he wanted to flee down the stairs and never come back.

"Did you recognize the cop that was here?"

"Um, yes."

"Did you hear him say what he came for?"

"The mayor."

"You're the spokesman. I'm going to see that these other people get to a safe place." I took Cynthia's arm and started to lead them away.

"Where's Frank?" Cynthia asked.

I shook my head at her, and she stepped back. "I'm going to stay here. That doctor isn't going to be able to explain it all."

"All right," I said. "Don't say anything that will sound crazy."

She smiled at me. She looked terribly fragile. "Give me some credit. I'm going to want to see you again later. My place?"

I nodded to her, then started to push Walt and Miriam through the doors. Arlene trailed behind, with the doctor holding her hand. No one spoke.

At the doors to the parking lot, the doctor made Arlene go to the ER. I led Walt and Miriam outside.

"I'm sorry," I said as Miriam was about to get in the car.

She threw her arms around my neck. I could feel her tears smearing on my face. "Lord bless you," she said.

They got into the car and drove away.

I walked back to the ER and watched Arlene get bandaged up. She filled out some paperwork, and then it was time to go. As we walked toward the parking lot, I looked through the gla.s.s doors and saw Annalise's van parked out there. Annalise stood beside it, waiting for me.

"Now what?" Arlene asked me.

"Call a friend and ask for a ride home."

I walked through the doors into the gray afternoon. Arlene followed closely behind. "No," she said. "I can't go home and wait. It would kill me. I have to know."

I didn't respond. We approached Annalise.

She stared at me as we approached. "You've been raising quite a ruckus, I hear."

"You could have joined in if I had a way to contact you. A cell phone number or something."

She shrugged. "You seem to have come through okay without me."

"People died." She didn't respond. She didn't even blink. "And the bad guys got away."

"How many bad guys?" she asked. "What kind?"

"Three, maybe four. Remember when I said I wasn't sure if Emmett was a werewolf or if he was alone? I'm sure now, and I'm sure about all three of his brothers. I may even have killed one or two of them."