The schematics for the target and the bullets were in my journal. Strictly speaking, I should’ve had a separate book for working notes, and I did. Only it wasn’t a book. It was a notebook. Eleven of them, to be precise. Full of calculations, errors, underlinings, comments, and endless corrections. But the right notebook is never within reach when you need it, and finding anything in them is like hunting a rabbit in a thorn bush. So I’d taken to copying the most important results, and the particularly stubborn problems, into my journal.

  The linked amulet diagrams were there because I considered them incomplete. The range was poor, and the energy cost was colossal. Not ideal in most circumstances, but for this? With the expected distances? It wouldn’t matter much.

  For the cartridge, I requested a brass casing inscribed with an airburst rune. As for the bullet, I used Wilhelm Brenneke’s design.

  Thirty grams, lead tip, conical nose. The sides were grooved with twelve angled ribs — thin, designed to crumple easily. The friction as they passed through the smooth barrel gave the bullet a mild spin.

  Two years ago, the design had been upgraded, doubling the number of ribs from six to twelve. Burke wrote from his travels that he’d used one, unenchanted, to bring down a buffalo in Africa and a brown bear in America. Just the thing I needed.

  Simple rune etching wouldn’t cut it here. For the target, yes, I’d drawn the sigils with special ink made from pulverised reservoir stone and stuck it to a one-metre ruler. But the bullets… the outer layers would smear against the barrel. So I went with a method I’d used before: embedding the spell in the bullet’s subtle body, using a tiny ether reservoir.

  Simple in theory.

  In practice, it took me half an hour to finish two bullets. Another fifteen minutes went into recharging my amulets and the spells stored in my notebook.

  I was selective: dropped Stone Skin (I had it in my ring), skipped Good Memory, I wouldn’t be needing that, but kept Steel Shield. Acceleration, precision, rear view — those were essential.

  Before rescuing Logan and his fiancée, I had one more battle to fight: with Uncle, over my place in the rescue team.

  He tried to dodge it, sent me off to prepare the bullets straight away. But I was certain he’d discussed my involvement with Boily. So I’d prepared my argument in advance: the bullet’s secret. Well — not quite a secret. More a necessary limitation. But it worked in my favour.

  The enchantment had to remain dormant until the moment of use. I hadn’t built in a trigger, like with proper amulets, so any attempt to activate it prematurely could shatter the spell entirely.

  The fight with Uncle was short and sharp. But then, unexpectedly, Nicholas took my side.

  “Bryce, we’ve only got one Bryan,” he said. “The lad’s going to be focused on staying hidden and setting up the target. And Logan won’t let anyone near him but Duncan. We’ve been over this, the shot is his.”

  Nicholas tapped one of the three wooden boxes stacked on the corner of the table. I hadn’t noticed them before, but with that gesture, I looked more closely. The top one seemed ordinary. The other two were steeped in a thick, dense aura of steel magic.

  Uncle let out a long sigh.

  “If either of them gets hurt, the women will have my head!” He made a frustrated gesture, turned to the window.

  Nicholas gestured for me to come over, opened the top box, and handed me a sawn-off shotgun, freshly inscribed with a fortification rune on the barrels.

  In the second box was a thick metal plate, about the size of a mid-sized book. In the centre, a spell-form of the Steel Shield was carved into the plate. Four holes at the corners, leather straps beside it. Nothing fancy.

  We Bremor folk were never masters of magic or artefact-making. Our strengths lay more in potions than in runes. But this thing, the steel saturation was higher than anything I’d ever seen, even in the Cave of Blades. Wouldn’t surprise me if the thickness was due to it being solid pyrite reservoir inside.

  Crude, and effective, like getting hit with a club. But there’s a reason most amulets are made small.

  “I’m already dealing with one magical poisoning,” I reminded them. “These things make even cotton wool bulletproof once activated.”

  “You’ll take a proper healing potion later,” Nicholas replied evenly. “Poison can be treated. Death — rarely.”

  “Speaking of death,” I added, “how about a couple of extra last-chance elixirs?”

  “You’ll have them,” said Boily. “And one more thing.” He opened a drawer and placed a heavy potion satchel on the table. It clinked with a solid, metallic sound.

  “There’s about twelve thousand in here: gold, silver, notes. Try bribing a werewolf.”

  Once we’d gone over the last details, I strapped the plate under my shirt, stashed a spare one for Logan in my rucksack, along with the sawn-off. When I asked what would happen if the mutts didn’t take the bait, I was told it’d no longer be my concern. I could’ve argued, but time was up.

  I took Uncle’s old Cooper and drove to see Sean in Vogeltown. The neighbours would be in for a surprise.

  Logan’s pickup was parked directly across from Sean’s house. My brother was a mess, he’d torn the leather wrap on his steering wheel. He spotted me at once, I’d pulled in right behind him, but didn’t react. I didn’t get out straight away.

  Rear view was already active, but I added acceleration and precision before slinging the rucksack over my shoulder and calling out:

  “Out you come.”

  Logan jumped out of the vehicle nervously.

  “What’s the plan?”

  It had been decided not to share the plan with him.

  “Trust me,” I said, motioning for him to follow.

  I walked up to Sean’s door with a steady, confident stride, though my insides had turned to ice. The last time we met, that warlock toyed with me like a kitten, and after his most recent hunt, he’d be even stronger.

  As before, the door opened before I reached it.

  “Two Kinkaids, one of whom’s been loitering across the street for ages…” Sean trailed off, but made no effort to hide his lack of enthusiasm.

  “Let’s come in,” I said.

  Sean clearly had things to say, but held back, sighed, and stepped aside with a resentful, sweeping gesture.

  We were met in the sitting room by the first of the clan-assigned guards — shifter Ted Feron.

  “What’s the emergency, lads?” he asked.

  “Let’s get Fred down here,” I said. I didn’t feel like repeating myself, and truthfully, I was nervous.

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  Uncle had sketched out a draft of the conversation, but I couldn’t afford to play guessing games with these two. One guard was Feron, the other Boily. Uncle reckoned they’d cooperate for Sean’s sake, and that we could save the more loyal lads for later ops.

  If I tried to quietly remove Sean now, neither of them would leave the protected subject without a fight. At best, it’d mean a call to the Head, but he was two blocks away and not currently available.

  Sean called for Fred and Sharon. One of the guards always stayed close to the subject when possible. It must’ve been tiring for the girl, but rules were rules.

  Sharon came down a minute later.

  Not exactly a beauty: average height, modest figure, a plain face with an old scar on her pointed chin. But she had good posture, a pleasant smile, and long, wavy hair. There was something likeable about her. She could probably have married someone younger than Sean. Still, she’d made her choice, and the slight curve under her dress suggested it had already borne fruit.

  “There are werewolves holed up in number sixty,” I said plainly.

  Logan tensed behind me. I felt it with my skin. But he kept quiet, let me take the lead. Good.

  “What’s the plan?” Sean asked, businesslike.

  “They’ve got a hostage,” I said. “Jenny.”

  “McLilly? Logg? Kinkaid?” Sean asked. “Which one?”

  “Adams.”

  Sean stiffened a little, glanced at Logan, then at Sharon, and muttered, “Bloody hell. I’m in, mate. We’ll do what we can.”

  “Now for the hard part. Try not to kill me before I finish talking,” I asked. “You’ve seen what those beasts can do, you know the girl won’t survive if we storm in. And we’re not even sure she’s inside, so we’re going to try and draw her out.”

  “Out here?” Sean frowned, pointing to the floor.

  “There.” I pointed to the front door. “Why do you think they took Jenny? And, just to remind you, killing me is a bad idea!” I turned to my brother. “You too — don’t move!”

  “What’s going on, Kinkaid?! Out with it!”

  “I’m trying!” I snapped. “Logan’s being blackmailed. They told him to kill Sharon!”

  Everyone tensed. A witchblade appeared in Sean’s hand. Logan answered with a low growl. The two of them stepped sideways in perfect sync, moving to circle me, but I kept pace with them thanks to Acceleration, arms outstretched.

  Fred and Ted both threw out an arm in front of Sharon, and the girl instinctively laid a hand over her belly.

  “Calm down! Everyone just — stop! I told you, I have a plan! Bryce, Nicholas Boily, and Bryan McLilly are already in position.”

  “And what’s supposed to make the werewolves bring the girl here?” Sean asked.

  “You. The three of you. If you leave, it’ll be just me and Logan. I’ll call and tell them we won’t hurt Sharon until they bring Jenny.”

  “I don’t like where this is going, Kinkaid! Get the hell out!”

  This time, Logan growled first. The guards shifted halfway into their animal forms. Sean summoned a flickering flame in his hand.

  I had to calm them down again.

  “Stop! Everyone, just stop! Logan, put your bloody teeth away! Feron, do you want to know why they picked Sharon?”

  Sean took a step back, and the flame disappeared. Good. He was thinking now. But still not trusting.

  “Fred, take Sharon upstairs.”

  “This concerns me too,” she said calmly.

  “Not now, love.”

  “Why not? Mister Kinkaid,” she pointed at me, “clearly isn’t here to kill me. And I’d quite like to know why the werewolves are so interested in me.”

  “To divide the clan,” I said quickly. If she had any thoughts of her child’s future, of her standing in Bremor, I had to persuade her, not Feron.

  “If Logan kills you, though he won’t!, then Sean will kill him, and me, and a dozen more Kinkaids. And then the Kinkaids will kill him. And we might never know if that ends it. It’s all part of a plan to destroy Bremor.”

  “You can’t risk!” Sean barked at the girl. “You’ve no right!”

  Sharon absentmindedly stroked her belly, paused in thought, then nodded.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen. I hope…”

  “She’s pregnant too!” I shouted. “But you’re under protection, and she’s out there, with beasts who’ll rip her to shreds! If you say no to this, Logan and I will march in there and die, because we’ll have nothing left to live for! And may that haunt you for the rest of your lives!”

  I acted shamefully, disgracefully, inhumanly.

  How low I’d sunk…

  God, I was blackmailing a pregnant woman!

  Sean grabbed me by the collar.

  All I managed was a quick shout to Logan:

  “Easy!”

  Feron started dragging me toward the door.

  Logan bristled, baring his teeth...

  “Stop!” Sharon shouted.

  Sean ignored her.

  She slipped past the stunned guards and grabbed Logan by the arm.

  “I said stop!”

  My brother looked stunned, barely holding himself together in his half-shifted state. He kept casting wary glances at Sharon, like a guard dog uncertain whether the kitten before him was playing, or taunting him. But the result was there: Feron halted.

  He didn’t let go of me. But he stopped.

  “Step away from him, love,” Sean said carefully.

  “Does he look like he’s about to kill me?” Sharon asked.

  “Step away,” Sean repeated, more firmly.

  “Don’t you see? He,” she jabbed a finger at Logan’s chest, “feels the same as you. Only you’re a man — and he’s still a boy.”

  A boy a few years younger than you. Maybe it wasn’t just practicality, maybe she liked older men. Or maybe she’d already written herself off as an old maid.

  “I can’t risk you!” Sean said, and shook me for emphasis, hard enough to spark lights behind my eyes.

  “We’ll hear the full plan,” Sharon insisted. “I take it it doesn’t end with them bringing your girl here?”

  “Of course not. I’ve crafted bullets bound to a target — twelve-gauge. McLilly will place targets behind the werewolf. I’ll pull both triggers. That should stun him long enough for Bryan to extract Jenny. Logan and I will hold the werewolf off until the rest of you join in. Bryce and Nicholas are involved. He won’t stand a chance.”

  “That’s assuming it’s just one werewolf,” Sean said, but at least he let me go. “What if he agrees to come, and then orders him,” he pointed the witchblade at Logan, “to kill you, love?”

  “I’ll be the one speaking to them on the phone,” I said. “And, hold on,” I rolled up my sleeve and slowly pulled out a dagger. “I’ll make a death-oath. If anything happens to Sharon, I’m dead.”

  “I’ll swear it,” Logan growled, making Sharon flinch and withdraw her hand.

  “Shut it,” I said.

  “It’s my responsibility,” he shot back.

  “You’ll both swear,” Sean cut in.

  “So you agree?” I asked.

  “I don’t know!” Sean snapped. “Go over the plan again. In detail!”

  I exhaled in relief. I’d done it. Sean’s resistance was cracking. Just a bit more pressure, and he’d give in.

  I went over everything again, twice in ten minutes. What I knew, what I didn’t. Details McLilly had uncovered, the surveillance placed on the werewolves, the return routes for Sean’s team.

  He broke.

  Mostly thanks to Sharon.

  Before Sean left, I unpacked my rucksack, handed the steel plate to Logan, and gave Sharon a pile of minor amulet jewellery. No one was going to let the werewolves near her. She was to stay in the reinforced basement for the whole fight, but she’d been handed to me before we left, and I wasn’t shy about sharing. I owed that girl.

  When preparations were complete, Sean left. We agreed to wait ten minutes — enough time for him to reach the place I’d named, then return in case I’d been lying and there were no Bryce or fighters there at all.

  Sean didn’t come back. The city in that direction didn’t burst into flames. So the guards left, too.

  Their car had barely turned the corner before I started dialling.

  Sharon sat in the basement. Logan paced the sitting room like a storm cloud. The line rang.

  A low male voice answered my call.

  “Speaking.”

  “Sharon’s with us,” I said.

  “You’ve got the wrong number,” the voice replied.

  “She’s alive, flea-face!” I snapped, pouring hatred and doubt into every syllable. “Don’t feed me that crap, I’m not Logan. I won’t fall for it.”

  “I repeat,” came the mocking tone. “You’ve got the wrong number.”

  “Shame. Because in half an hour, maybe less, the guards will realise I tricked them and come back. I’ll have to explain everything.

  Oh, and don’t count on the compulsion. I took the card off Logan myself and altered the instruction. It now says you’ll kill Jenny the moment he fulfils your part of the deal. So you’ve got half an hour. Maybe less, I said that already. Bring Jenny to Sean’s house, and we’ll make the exchange. The effect will be exactly what you wanted, maybe even better. I suggest you hurry. Before the guards return.”

  That should’ve been the end, I’d said my piece and should’ve hung up. But doubt gnawed at me. I couldn’t stop myself from asking:

  “You heard me, didn’t you, flea-face?”

  After a short delay, the line came to life.

  “I repeat, you’ve got the wrong number.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said. There was so much venom in the werewolf’s voice that any lingering doubts vanished.

  I hung up.

  “What if they don’t come?” Logan asked, sounding on edge.

  “Our only chance is that they do. Pray. The back door’s yours.”

  We took up positions at opposite ends of the house, each watching an entrance. Somewhere nearby, McLilly should have been prowling. A bit further out, Uncle, Sean, and Nicholas lying in wait. Maybe a few others, but not many. And I was genuinely worried. Logan and I couldn’t cover all the doors and windows. Not even close.

  Time passed like treacle over taut nerves. Every couple of minutes, I called out to Logan, just to make sure he hadn’t done anything stupid. Ten minutes in, a man stepped out of number sixty.

  He wore a long canvas coat over a thick knitted jumper. The flat cap was pulled so far down over his face, it shadowed his eyes entirely. His head was bowed, but the predator’s prowl was unmistakable in his stride.

  In the subtle layers, he might have passed for a sickly human, if I hadn’t seen that masking amulet change one of his kind at the station.

  Not this time.

  The werewolf slowed slightly as he passed the house, but didn’t seem inclined to stop. I had no idea what was going on in his head. Maybe just scanning for an ambush…

  God, there had to be one.

  And I really, really didn’t want him to spot it.

  “Logan,” I called softly. “One out front. No Jenny. I’m going out.”

  I opened the door, stepped onto the porch, and raised the barrels of the sawn-off, aimed straight at the stranger across the road.

  “I’ve seen that kind of disguise before, flea-face. Where’s Jenny?”