I cursed like a sailor as I kicked down the front door of Colm’s estate, clumsily reloading my pistol as Griffenwald shouted rude words into the night. Henrietta and Alfonse rushed past me as I looked out the window, just in time to see the grizzly sight of my vampiric opponent plucking lead shot out of his eye socket.

  His stooges still marched by his side, and I saw him grab one of them by the hair and drink deep from his neck. The gory mess of his face regrew in waves, muscle and skin regenerating at a superhuman rate, before his baleful eye finally re-emerged in its socket. The man he drank from fainted the moment Griffenwald let go, having lost too much blood to stay upright.

  His other goons, armed with pikes and sabers, advanced as if nothing had happened. “I’ll skin you alive, Messer! And that she-wolf of yours too!”

  I responded to this threat by firing my pistol out the window. I failed to hit Griffenwald, but I came damn close, and that seemed to have enraged the man to no end. He let out a furious roar, before charging straight for us, barreling past his men.

  “Think you have him, Sig?” Henrietta asked, eyes wide in desperation.

  I was about to reply that I wasn’t sure, when Griffenwald dove straight through the window and tackled me.

  We went sprawling into the house, a mess of struggling limbs, the taller vampire’s eyes bloodshot as he wrapped his talons around my neck.

  “You miserable little interloper! Come to our colony, try to rile up our slaves, take what we rightfully earned! Through blood and iron!”

  I gave myself the strength to punch him in the chest, hearing one of his ribs break against my knuckles. He responded by plunging his fingers through the flesh of my neck. I heard Henrietta and Alfonse yelp as Griffenwald’s thugs kicked down the door, the sounds of a struggle, of three versus two. But I could focus on nothing but Griffenwald’s horrid, hateful face, spitting blood in my eyes.

  “You are going to beg for death by the time I’m done with you, you wretched fucking—”

  At first I didn’t know what was happening, as the both of us were sent sprawling again. It was only when my vision re-focused that I saw a towering figure, hairy from head to toe, with two massive tusks embedded in Griffenwald’s chest.

  It was the girl from earlier, the young Boar clan were-beast. She turned to face me. Her voice was even deeper than Ana’s. “Go help your friends.”

  Then she ripped Griffenwald’s head clean off.

  I turned, and saw Henrietta fending off that trio of goons with a wooden chair. She hadn’t been able to arm herself since Griffenwald captured her, had she? I drew my dagger and charged, the adrenaline of my brief but violent encounter with another vampire carrying me forward.

  The thugs were certainly large, but they were slow, and Henrietta made for a wonderful distraction. I sliced the first man’s back, carried the momentum through to open the second’s neck, then lunged at the third with all the supernatural strength I could muster, plunging my blade up into his skull.

  As I drank of his blood, I heard Henrietta bludgeoning the first man into unconsciousness with her chair, before spitting on his face. “Rotten little prick.”

  I turned to survey the carnage; three men dead, while Griffenwald’s severed head twitched in the were-beast’s hand, alive but unconscious. Henrietta wiped some blood off her cheek, and flashed me a grin.

  “Those bastards roughed me up something fierce. I’d say we more than paid them back!”

  I nodded. “Isn’t there something we’re forgetting?”

  We all turned, and saw the man Griffenwald had drank from earlier, regaining consciousness and rising to his feet. He saw what had become of his master and comrades, and he clearly didn’t like his odds. He turned to run.

  “You going after him?” Asked the were-beast girl.

  I looked down at my dagger. “No need.”

  I threw it with a vampire’s strength and precision. It found its mark with ease.

  “So I take it your little uprising isn’t going according to plan?”

  I turned to see the source of this new voice. It was the old woman from the meeting, the one who’d addressed Ana as Tuath. She wore the simple, drab clothes of a farmer, and had her long silver hair braided down her back.

  I nodded to her in deference, wiping some blood from my cheek. “My friend here was apprehended by Sir Griffenwald. Which obviously means they’ve uncovered our plans to interrupt the auction tonight.”

  “Then you will need to move quickly, to save Ana and the others.”

  I gestured out the door. “Our carriage is right outside, we can take the horses”

  She waved her hand dismissively at this notion. “No need. Niamh here will take you.”

  The boar girl grinned wickedly at this, getting down on all fours. “I can charge faster than any horse. Hop on my back, and we’ll be at Grayson’s estate in no time.”

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  I nodded at this, taking a few moments to reload my pistol again, then pluck a saber from one of Griffenwald’s fallen thugs to replace my thrown dagger. As I worked, the old woman kneeled at Henrietta’s side, the towering pilot having collapsed from her wounds.

  “They did a number on you, didn’t they? Rotten bastards.”

  Henrietta looked up at her and grunted. It was only then that I saw the blood dripping from her left hand; she was missing two fingernails. “I’ll be fine.”

  The old woman looked up at me. “The others and I will tend to your friend, and keep the boy safe. Go now, and may our ancestors be with you.”

  I turned to all of them, Alfonse, Henrietta, and the matriatch of Colm’s serfs. They would be counting on me.

  I bid them farewell, hoping not to disappoint them. Then I clambered onto Niamh’s back, and held onto her fur for dear life.

  Needless to say, riding on a three-hundred-pound were-beast’s back galloping at a mile a minute was far from a pleasant experience. Throughout the whole journey I felt like I’d been thrown off a very steep cliff, constantly afraid that I would lose my grip, my weapons, or my lunch.

  But that was nothing compared to the fear I felt for Ana’s safety, as we came upon Grayson’s estate.

  There was a fire. Not at his manor-house, but the barracks of his Ostlander slaves.

  As we grew closer we saw the source of it; Firman thugs, some armored, all armed, had attempted to storm the Ostlander quarters. Several dead farmers lay at their feet, while others struggled against them. I saw Ana in the middle of the fray, bleeding from fresh wounds. Her fur-clad comrades from the Wolf clan were at her side, along with the farmers from Colm’s estate, armed with naught but hoes and pitchforks.

  They were surrounded. They were losing.

  But Grayson’s thugs didn’t notice Niamh and I barreling towards them until it was too late.

  As the boar crashed straight through their line, impaling a man on her tusks, I leapt from her back and hacked my way to Ana’s side. There was no time for words; just a simple nod of acknowledgement, then back to the bloody work of hacking away at the men surrounding us.

  There had to be at least two dozen of them, versus only ten of us. But we had two were-beasts and a vampire at our side. I lost myself in a bloody frenzy, hacking away at Grayson’s men, dancing inside their guard with my superior reflexes, burying my blade in one man’s neck, then moving on to the next with nary a second thought. I heard Ana biting limbs off, saw Niamh bury her fist in a man’s chest.

  And then it was done. Two of the farmers hacked the last thug to death as he tried to flee, muttering curses in their native tongue. I was covered in blood, my breath ragged, my adrenaline at an all-time high.

  Until Ana put her hand on my shoulder. “Sig, what happened?”

  I turned to face her, eyes wide. “Griffenwald apprehended Henrietta on her way to her mission. They’re on to us.”

  Ana swore. “These men came here to massacre Grayson’s farmers. Not a word, they just started burning and killing. Now we know why.”

  “Why?” Said a voice I found all too familiar.

  I turned, and saw Grayson’s surviving farmers standing before us, having re-emerged from the tall grass they were cowering behind. At their front stood the old were-beast, collar hugging her neck.

  “Why have you done this? Our sons and daughters are dead! Because of you and your damn trouble-making!”

  A younger man tried to get between her and us. “Aunt Natasha, please.”

  She shoved past him, moving closer. “Why did you come here?”

  My voice caught in my throat. I did not know what to say to this poor woman. I saw the bodies of her neighbors at my feet.

  Then Ana held her hand out. “Sig. The letter.”

  It took a moment for me to process what Ana was saying. Then it clicked. I reached into the bloody tatters of my jacket, and produced the forged letter she had written and given to me for safekeeping.

  She took it, and held it aloft. “I’ll tell you why! Colm of the Boar Clan bought you your freedom!”

  The crowd looked around at one another, astonished at this news.

  “And your master would not have it! He would rather see you slaughtered than see you free! He sent his men to butcher your children, while he pawns off the land of your ancestors to his coterie of sycophants! He treats the land itself like a thing to be bought and sold, and puts you, his nominal subjects, to the sword if you dare to disagree!”

  She was animated by this, furious, and I felt my blood rush at the sight and sound of her. “That is why this happened. That is why we fight! Kin of Clan Boar, do you have the courage to live free?”

  There was a brief pause after Ana begged that question, where the crowd seemed to size each other up. The fire and ash of their meager homes still surrounded them, while the lantern-light of Grayson’s horrible manor glowed in the background. Natasha stood completely still, her expression unreadable.

  But her nephew soon stepped forward, and plucked a pike from off of one of Grayson’s thugs. He held it aloft. “I fight for Ana, Tuath of Clan Wolf!”

  Another farmer, a woman, stepped forward to join him. “I fight for the land of my ancestors!”

  A third, an older man with a soul anchor around his throat, joined them. “I fight for freedom!”

  “For vengeance!”

  “To drive the Firman back across the sea!”

  The farmers armed themselves, with the weapons of Grayson’s fallen men, with farming tools and clubs, or just their fists. They were less an army and more of a mob, but they at least fell in line with Ana’s warriors as they led them toward the manor house.

  “This was the majority of Grayson’s house guard.” Ana observed. “We should make swift work of the rest inside.”

  “Yes, and we may hold all of New Charsburgh… for a time. But the minute that army barracks sounds the alarm, we’re fucked.”

  Ana put her hand on my shoulder again. “It matters little. These people are free now. We will flee into the woods, have them join my warbands. And perhaps more will follow suit, based on their example.”

  I wanted to believe her. She had done a damn fine job of winning me to the side of her cause. But it didn’t seem realistic, at least to me.

  And there was one other matter nagging me. “Hell of a speech you gave there. Shame it was based on a lie.”

  She grunted. “You mean Colm buying their freedom? It wasn’t a lie. He gave me his estate, he didn’t leave any instruction on what I was and was not to do with it.”

  “A half-truth then. You wrote that letter in his name.”

  “Yes, and I doubt anyone shall bother to actually read it.”

  I frowned at this. I was one to talk, lying was practically my life’s work. Perhaps I was simply projecting. Or perhaps I found it odd seeing myself in Ana, a woman I thought of as the exact opposite of me.

  Nonetheless, my lucine companion soon silenced my doubts. “Enough talking. We have a vampire to kill.”

  She of course meant Grayson, sitting pretty in his ugly manor house. We rushed forth to join our mob.