She landed with a hard thwack and slumped, fighting for breath. Aden’s gaze remained glued to her. Love…obey…

“Aden,” Victoria said, shaking him. “Aden! Listen to me. Hear me. You have to fight this.”

Marie gained her bearings and stood on shaky legs. She raised her arms, eyes narrowed and still pinned on him. “You love me. You will obey me.”

Love, obey, Caleb said.

“She’s hurting him,” Victoria cried to the beast, and a second later, Marie was screaming, tossed into another wall, but again she stood, ready to finish her spell.

MARY ANN STUMBLED OUTSIDE, into the moonlight. There’d been a…a dragon in the cave. An honest to God dragon. She shouldn’t have run, she thought, but the urge to flee had been instinctive. She’d panicked. She’d obeyed Victoria without hesitation.

Perhaps, though, she wasn’t any safer out here. Another war was being waged.

Where minutes before there had been calm in this rocky canyon, now vampires and a few wolves battled more fairies than Mary Ann could count. And those fairies were vicious. They might not have had access to je la nune poison, but they fought with swords, hacking at fur and flesh, aiming for the vampires’ eyes, ears and mouths, blood spraying.

Riley was here. She knew he was. He would have followed Victoria. So where was he? If he was hurt, she would—

Behind her, there was a screech of fury, and then a heavy weight was pushing her down. She flipped midair and realized Brendal had trailed her out, then she hit the ground and lost her breath, her train of thought.

“You cannot leave,” the fairy snarled at her, grabbing her by the shirt and hefting her to her feet. “You must convince Aden to tell me about my brother.”

Midnight would arrive very soon, and the winner—and loser—of this battle would be decided. One way or another. If Mary Ann died, this woman would never learn the truth about her brother. Had the situation been reversed, had Mary Ann’s dad been the one missing, she would have been just as determined and desperate for answers as Brendal.

“Your brother…your brother is dead,” Mary Ann told her gently, still fighting for air. She tried not to cringe when someone screamed behind her.

Shock. Disbelief. Rage. All three passed over the fairy’s expression. Brendal shook her head, pale hair slapping her ashen cheeks. “No.”

“Yes. He is. I’m sorry.”

Eyes narrowed. “Then where is his body?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who does?”

“Please,” Mary Ann said. “Just tell your people to leave the wolves alone.”

“Who knows?” As she spoke, she shook Mary Ann so hard her brain rattled against her skull. “The boy? The wolf? The vampire?”

Again, Mary Ann ignored the question. She’d given the fairy an answer, but she wouldn’t condemn her friends.

“Would you tell me to save your own life?” Brendal reached behind her, and when her hand reappeared, she was gripping a blade. She held its gleaming tip to Mary Ann’s throat, slicing her skin, burning. Not enough to kill, just enough to hurt.

Fight. You know how. But as Mary Ann moved to smash the woman’s nose into her brain, the blade sank a little deeper. She froze, panting, a cold sweat breaking over her. She was stronger than she’d ever been, yes, and had some training now, but this, this she had no idea how to combat.

There was a howl, a blur of black in the corner of her eye, and then Brendal was soaring to the side, away from her. Riley, in full wolf form, landed on top of the fairy, doing his best to subdue her. Mary Ann’s relief didn’t last long. He wasn’t having much luck, his motions slowing, becoming sluggish.

Was he being drained? Was the fairy somehow weakening him?

I’m the Drainer, Mary Ann thought darkly. If anyone was going to be weakened, it was the fairy. Determined, she lumbered to her feet and stumbled her way to the still-straining bodies. Riley must have sensed her, because he snarled over his shoulder. When he realized it was Mary Ann approaching, he returned his attention to Brendal.

“Hold her as best you can.”

As Riley dropped all of his weight on his opponent, pinning her, Mary Ann crouched and placed her hand on the woman’s neck, where her pulse hammered. She hadn’t had to touch the witch to feed from her, but then she’d been starving and the draining had been involuntary. This time, she suspected she’d have to use force.

She closed her eyes, tried to blank her mind. An unwanted thought arose. If she did this, everyone would know what she was. Her secret would be out. She would be marked for death. Well, more than she already was. Not just by the fairies, but by the wolves and vampires.

Another thought formed. If she didn’t do this, Riley could be injured. And besides, she might not survive the night, anyway. So, really, what did she have to lose?

Finally, her mind blanked. I’m hungry, she told herself. So hungry.

She waited. The warmth remained at bay, out of reach.

I’m starving. I need the fairy’s energy.

Again, nothing.

Time to regroup. So far, the ability had worked only on the witches. Riley had said that Mary Ann would begin with the witches, but then her need would expand to fairies, then to all other types of creatures. Perhaps it was still too soon to feed from anyone else.

No. No. She could do this. She had to do this. Mary Ann concentrated, focusing completely on the fairy. Brendal’s skin was soft, her pulse strong, so strong, like a drum. A song. Mary Ann listened to that song, allowed it to play inside her mind, absorb in her blood.

Brendal jerked against her hold.

Mary Ann absorbed the motion, too. The warmth she’d craved soon followed, sinking inside her, and oh, it was nice, too. Like being inside a cabin, snow all around, yet a fire leaping to life in front of her, soothing her.

The song slowed, however, and she frowned. She wasn’t done listening, and now, the melody wasn’t quite as pretty. It was lacking somehow. And then, even the warmth faded. She wanted more warmth. Needed more warmth.

Enough. You have to pull away, Mary Ann, or you’ll kill her. I know you don’t want to kill her.

Riley’s voice shouted through her head, jolting her, and she ripped her hand away from the fairy. She blinked open her eyes. Brendal lay motionless, barely breathing, but thankfully alive.

She’d done it. She’d actually done it. She had drained the fairy.

Can you drain the others? Riley asked, urgent. Just enough to weaken them?

Trembling, she scanned the still-raging battle. Most of the wolves were as sluggish as Riley had been, the fairies seemingly stronger than ever. She was ashamed of the little spark of glee that flickered in her chest. Not because she wanted to help, but because she want to hear more of those songs, feel more of that warmth. “I’ll try.”