Passion slams into the back of two of theSoakers, their bones audibly cracking as they fall beneath us. Twoothers fall by my sword. With Passion and I added to the mix, andwith the element of surprise on our side, we gain the upper hand,cutting each and every one of them down.

On the ground, Dazz groans, alive but insignificant pain. “Where’s Skye?” he asks when I look down athim.

“On the beach,” I say.

“Help her,” he pleads.

“Are you—”

“I’m fine. Just go.”

I hesitate, but then Remy says, “We’llprotect him.”

I nod and turn Passion toward where I lastsaw the Heaters.

The four of them are in a line, directly inthe path of a group of running Soakers, a blue-clad officer attheir front. Even as I gallop toward them, Gard and Thunder come infrom the side, leading a group of at least a dozen Riders who havemanaged, like me, to remain atop their steeds.

They collide with the Soakers, bodies andswords flying everywhere.

The Soaker officer, a big man with a longsword, steps away from the pack of bodies. His hat is differentthan the other officers, longer and arched at the top. I know whohe is: the admiral. Admiral Jones, the leader of the Soakers. Hegestures at Gard, who stabs a Soaker and then dismounts, pattingThunder on the rear. Obediently, Thunder runs up the beach, towardand then past me, making for the safety of the plains.

Another Soaker officer attacks Gard, but hetosses him aside like a child and steps forward, sword in hand.

That’s when I see him slinking away from thecrowd.

A boy.

A boy wearing a blue officer’s uniform.

The Evil hisses in my ear.

Huck

Lightning crashes,splitting the sky in half. Thunder booms, crashing through my ears.Men die, as insignificant as fleas compared to the power of thestorm.

My father’s forgotten about me in the midstof the battle, and now he faces off against the war leader of theStormers. I’ve only ever seen him from far away, from safe on theships. He’s so much bigger this close. They call him Gard. Fightinghim is what my father has always wanted. It’s also my chance.

Slightly back from the fray, I feel numb.None of this matters to me—not when she could be dying in the rain.Dying by my very hand. Not when a reunion with her sisters ispossible.

I turn and run back for the boats, grab theside and push as hard as I can.

I’m going back to her.

“Stop right there,” a voice says frombehind.

Sadie

He doesn’t turn right away, so I say itagain. “Stop.” My voice is calm, when in my head I hear onlykillkillkillkill.

This time he turns, white-faced andrain-slick. He raises his empty hands.

I raise my sword.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Lieutenant Jones,” he says.

Jones! It can’t be. This boy can’t bethe admiral’s son, can he? But even as I raise my sword I know thathe is.

killkillkillkill

“Please,” he says. “My father’s a badman.”

“Yes,” I say. “You all are.”

Passion takes two steps forward; I’m closeenough to slash him.

Yesss, ssslasssh him, the Evilsays.

“No…no,” he says, but there’s not muchstrength in his voice. Only…sadness. For what? For who? “I didn’twant any of this to happen. I never knew…”

There’s a roar behind us and I glance back.Gard’s unleashing a barrage of heavy blows on the admiral, forcinghim back. Soon, Gard will finish him. So if I finish off LieutenantJones, the Soakers—or what’s left of them—will be leaderless.

I turn back to the boy, who hasn’t moved.“You’re saying you’ve done nothing wrong?” I ask, angling my swordbeneath his chin.

No more quessstionsss!

Am I controlling the Evil, or is itcontrolling me? I still can’t figure it out. I grip the swordtighter and fight off the urge to shove it through the boy’sneck.

“I—I…” He can’t get the words out. I expectedhim to flat out lie, but instead he seems to be taking the questionrather seriously. Swords ring out. Men grunt and groan and yell. “Ihurt her. The Heater girl, Jade. I hurt her because he said hewould kill her if I didn’t. And I killed a man for her. And I savedthat Heater boy from Hobbs. I killed him too. I had to. And I—”

“Stop,” I say, cutting him off. I have noidea what he’s rambling on about, but it sounds honest, like he’sashamed of some things and proud of others, but all in all itdoesn’t sound too good. Killing people, hurting people, savingpeople. A lot of stuff about Heaters. “Do you deserve to die?” Whyam I asking him? Why am I delaying what I know I have to do?

The boy stares at me with huge eyes. “I—I…”The stutter is back. Him thinking, taking the question seriously.“I…maybe. I don’t know. Maybe.”

His answer surprises me. He sssaysss killhim, ssso kill him. Do it. Do it. DO IT!

I see Paw’s face, so innocent, so muchpotential. He beckons to me to save him. But the admiral’s sonwould’ve been only a small child, or maybe not even born, when Pawwas killed.

And Mother. It was the Icer guards thatkilled her, although she never would’ve ridden to ice country ifnot for the sins of the Soakers. But was this boy really involvedin all that? Doubtful. Is he really the one to blame? The one tokill to bring me peace?

Yesss.

“You can kill me,” the Soaker boy says,surprising me once more. “But please, let me see her one more time,let me touch her, let me tell her how sorry I am. For everything.”Suddenly, as young as Lieutenant Jones looks, he’s no longer ascared boy to me, but a man, his words filled with fire and truth.And goodness. I don’t want them to be—want to hate every last thingabout him, but I can’t.

Nooo! He tricksss you! The Sssoaker tricksssyou!

killkillkillkill

I grip my sword tighter, heat rolling throughmy knuckles.

killkillkill

Strength roars through me. Enough strength tocut clean through him, to end him.

killkillkill

But it’s not me, it’s not me,it’s…notmenotmenotmenotmenotme…is it? Paw’s face. Mother’s face.Father’s face….Father! His face, his calm demeanor, his words—yes,his words.

Our existence is not all about killingSoakers…the more important choice is not when to take a life, butwhen to spare one…your choice and your choice alone…it will changeeverything.

But no, it’s not my choice. The Evil,whatever it is, has taken over, is controlling me. Its lust forblood must be satisfied.

Yesss!

No! It is my choice. You are not mymaster. You are not me.

That’s when I realize.

I realize.

The. Evil. Is. Me.

It has been all along, my lust for revenge, ahot desire to bring someone—anyone—to justice for the death of myfamily. My choice and mine alone. Not the forest, not some mythicalEvil forcing me to perform horrible acts. An excuse to make baddecisions. A scapegoat for my own anger.

Me.

KILL!

“No!” I scream, startling the boy, making himjump back, his hands shooting to his neck as if he expects to haveto hold it together because I’ve stabbed him. But I haven’t.

You will never find peace, the Evilsays.

“I already have,” I say.

The Evil spits and screams andfades…fades…fades…away, until it’s gone. And I know it’sgone forever.

I turn Passion and ride back toward thebattle, determined to help end it.

Huck

What was that?

Jade’s face was flashing over and over andover in my mind, and I knew it was because I was going to die, andall I wanted was to see her before I did. But then…

Then the Stormer Rider turned away. Shespared me.

My hands return to the boat, and all I wantto do is push off, to paddle back to the Mayhem and make sure she’sokay.