"What’s going on?" I shout as the stranger shoves me into the room used to store all of our stuff and shuts the door behind him. I expect someone to come to my rescue, but it's like no one can hear me yell. Stumbling back against the bed, I turn around and find myself face to face with another man already in the room. They tower over me, flanking me on both sides, wearing an expression of hatred that I don't understand. I've never seen them before.

"Look, I don't know who you think I am, but you've got the wrong girl. I have no idea who you are or why I'm here,” I say, my words sounding a lot calmer than I feel. Staring at the large men, I keep backing away until I’m on the other side of the bed.

“Volshebnitsya Skazki, sechasze otdavai Znaniye, ili mi ybiyom vseh.”

“Umm, what?” My brain pushes to comprehend the strange words as the man in front of me growls with every syllable. His eyes narrow and he exhales, almost like a dog, before trying again.

"You are Calista Faulkner," he says, his voice thick with an accent I can’t quite place. "You will tell where Znaniye hides or we kill everyone in this house."

It takes a second for the broken English to register before I find the courage to reply. "Kill? Did you not hear a word I just said? You've got the wrong girl!" I'm shouting now, but I don't care if I sound like a lunatic. Someone has got to hear me.

"Do not bother yelling, Protector,” the goon who dragged me in here speaks again, as if reading my mind. "Walls now sealed with majyk of land. No one hear you now."

I’ve always thought of myself as a logical person. I’ve always thought that presented with a situation where my life is in danger I will do the right thing. Those corners of my mind are trying to piece together what's happening, but the rest of my body is shaking in fear. It's as if I'm two people all of a sudden. One fully focused on getting out of here with a calm mind. Another shaking like a leaf with no coherent thought. Thankfully, the logical me wins out.

"Listen," I try again, my voice coming out soothing, but I do take a step back to put some distance between us. "I have no idea what you're talking about. If you'll just let me go, I can find someone who lives in this house. I'm sure they'll be happy to show you where whatever you’re looking for is."

"Do not lie, Protector!” the stranger booms, shaking the floor I’m standing on with just his voice. “This house has no wards, no majyk. You would not be so careless to leave the relic here." I move a bit farther back, putting the bed between us.

"You guys have had a little too much to drink,” I say, because I can’t even fathom this being my reality right now. With every word, my mind shouts at me that this is not a joke. These … things … are here to hurt me. I can’t constitute them as men any longer, as their faces continue to ripple in an otherworldly way each time they breathe.

"Enough!" the man who was already in the room bellows, speaking up for the first time. "Do not play games, Protector. Tell us where it is and we kill you fast. Lie to us, and we kill you slow. Then, we kill all humans in this house."

The man takes a step toward me and, suddenly, there is a sword in front of my face. I jump as it manifests itself in his hand, my own hands flying over my mouth. I don't think I drank anything but soda, so my mind must be playing tricks on me. I swear the man grows in size right before my eyes. He's almost seven feet tall now, towering over my small frame, his face twisting and turning, becoming something other than human. His eyes bulge out, taking over his face, and from what I can see, there seems to be scars all over his skin. As if someone stitched pieces of flesh together. I watch, frozen, as the giant stalks up to me, pinning me against the wall in one breath. I try to struggle, but the hand on my throat is cutting off any circulation.

"Tell me where it is," he growls, the words almost unintelligible with the noise coming from deep within his throat. I try to shake my head, give him some indication that I have no idea what he's talking about, but he growls again and then there is pain.

Excruciating pain.

I feel my blood drip down my arm where his sword tip cuts me and that's when I realize this is no joke. These men—monsters—are here for me, and they will kill me if I don't tell them what they want to know. If only I knew what they were asking, but none of this makes sense. I'm gasping for breath, my thoughts a jumbled mess as the pain spreads through my body. He cuts deeper, and any moment he'll scrape the bone, leaving a permanent mark.

I push against the burning sensation spreading up my arm, struggling to breathe as he crushes my windpipe with his gigantic claw. My vision swims before me as I try to focus on his face and there is more distortion than before. It’s as if layers of a mask keep coming off the longer he's around me. I don't understand how my mind manages to register anything through the pain, but I fight it. I fight with my whole being.

An instinct I didn’t know I possessed kicks in, overshadowing the pain. It’s as if a switch has been turned on inside of me and just like that, the pain stops. It becomes manageable. As if, all of a sudden, I can push it back. Get it under control.

There is no time to dwell on the new discovery as the monster drops me to my feet. I land hard, my bones rattling with the impact and I don't see the blow coming. His hand connects with my cheek and I'm on my knees. Tears sting my eyes, but I push them back, just like I'm pushing the pain back. The response is automatic, almost like a reflex. I watch my attacker stalk across the room and I'm on my feet.

Acting on pure instinct, I kick out as the stranger comes barreling toward me, sending him reeling into the bedpost. Surprised my action has the desired effect, I scramble to my feet, but I don't make it far. The door on the other side of the room opens, and a blur of movement catches my attention as the other man comes flying across the room.

I don't wait to see who or what did that as I turn to the window, push it open, and run.

I hear them coming before they're even in the building. I don't understand how I can tell they're moving closer, but the next second the door bangs open below us and the footsteps echo through the staircase. Brendan is pulling me up the stairs now, rushing to get to the top, and I know I should be afraid, but for some reason I'm not.

There's a familiarity to what’s happening around me, as if I've been here before. As if I've orchestrated it. I shake my head, dispersing the random thoughts, and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

In the next moment, we've reached the top. We stumble out onto the roof gleaming in the moonlight from the recent rain. That's when I realize something.

"There's nowhere to go," I hiss, pulling on Brendan's arm. "What are you doing?"

"Providing us with an advantage,” he replies, and just like with the other men, suddenly a sword materializes in Brendan's hand.

"What the—?”

I don't get to finish as Brendan pulls another sword out of thin air and thrusts it into my hands. There's a click at the back of my mind at the contact, but I can't wrap my mind around anything long enough to figure out what it means. I take a step back, my body shaking at the sight of the weapon. Brendan positions himself in front of me, the tilt of the blade shining in the moonlight.

"Keep your feet shoulder-width apart, grip the bottom with both hands, and keep it close to your body from the bottom of your torso to the top of your head,” he rattles off the instructions, his eyes firmly on the door.

"You're not serious!" I exclaim, surprised I'm still holding onto the weapon instead of chucking it across the roof like I feel like doing. "You don't seriously expect me to fight? I've never even held a sword before."

"Yes, you have."

"No, I haven't."

At the panic clearly in my voice, Brendan finally pulls his attention from the door and focuses on me. Just like a dozen times before, there is instant recognition when his gaze lands on me, but I don't dwell on it. If there was ever a time for a brain to overload with the amount of information it’s receiving, now would be the time. I’m honestly surprised I’m still standing.

"Calista, I know none of this makes sense and you're scared, but you've been trained to push those emotions away. I need you to try and remember who you are."

"What does that even mean?" I can't help but exclaim. "Trained? Who I am? I'm a seventeen-year-old girl who just got attacked at a college party and now I'm holding a freaking sword!” By the end of my little exclamation, my voice has risen to a higher octave than ever before, but Brendan isn't fazed. He takes a step toward me, reaching for me with his free hand. When his skin touches mine there is an intense spark of recognition, even stronger than I've felt before.

"You are so much more than you think,” he says quietly, and I can hear our pursuers on the stairs, getting closer with every second. "I need you to trust me and fight. Don't push yourself toward your opponent, let them come to you. Your body will remember the rest. But I can't do this alone. I need you to help me protect you."

I stare up at him, trying to find some malice, some kind of dishonesty in his expression, but there's none. I want this to be a cruel joke. I want it to be a crazy dream. But it’s not. He believes every word he's saying and that click I felt at the contact flares up again, shining brighter.

I believe him.

I believe every single word he's saying as the truth.

"If we die, I am so haunting you till eternity past,” I grumble, bringing the sword up in front of me like he instructed. The smile that lights up his face at that small gesture is blinding.

"I would expect nothing less."

I don't understand what's going on, but I think I'm about to fight a herd of disfigured dog-people and I hope I survive.

"Cali, just believe—“

Whatever else he may have said is drowned out as the men who attacked me burst through the door. Although, I can’t call them men any longer. My eyes zero in on their deformed features, patches of hair growing out of their sewn-together skin, and my blood runs cold at the sight. I don’t have a second to wonder what created these monsters as they advance on us. Metal clangs against metal, Brendan's body a fluid dance of motion as he blocks not one but two of the strangers. The sound of sword on sword beats to the drum of my heart, keeping time with the motions. I watch, almost mesmerized, the beauty of the movement paralyzing me.

"Cali!"

Brendan's scream snaps me out of my haze just as one of the attackers moves past him and comes toward me. I stare at the figure, unable to move as he bears down on me, but at the last moment I sidestep him with almost practiced ease.

Having no time to marvel at the fact that I dodged an attack, I swing my sword just as the other swings his. Left, then right, my feet firmly on the ground, I move as if in a trance. He jabs, but I block, my own arm reaching out and the next moment the stranger is on the ground in front of me, his stomach sliced open by my sword.

Yet, I don't stop to think that I've just killed a man. I don't stop to think at all. I shift toward Brendan, my arms moving on their own accord. Left, then right, then left and another one goes down. Before I can get my bearings, I'm grabbed from behind, the sword falling from my grasp. Strong hands wrap around my middle, pinning my arms to the side. The stench of rotting flesh hits me from every direction, and I try not to gag. By instinct, I let myself drop into the monster’s grip, and he stumbles under my weight.

Using my attacker’s chest for leverage, I kick out at the one coming at me from the front. The movement drives us to the ground, and I'm in motion as soon as we land. I'm on my hands, kicking out behind me and I feel the instant I connect. Blood rains over me as I flip over, nearly escaping being stomped on. The action drives me to my sword, my arm acting in some rehearsed fashion, and the next thing I know, his guts are spilling out in front of me.

I glance down at myself as the last giant falls, my eyes fast on where my hand grips the bottom of the sword. Sometime in the last five minutes, rain has started to fall again and it's getting in my eyes, but I don't push it away. Blood is running down my hands, mixing in with the water, and I watch it make its way down to the rooftop until I can't see it at all. Panic and shock set in as I realize what I've done. I'm about to collapse when strong arms lift me upright.

"Come on, Calista. We have to move. More are coming and you're in no shape to fight any longer. I need to get you out of here."

"But I—“

"I'll explain everything but, right now, we have to move."

He grabs my hand, taking the sword from my other one and then it's gone. I turn to glance behind me at where the bodies of the monsters I've killed lie, but they are gone too. Just like the sword.

"None of this makes sense," I mumble as the world grows dark.