Gabriel lay with his neck on the chopping block. His hands were freshly shackled, the wrists joined by a chain between each manacle.

Restrained by guards nearby, Sevilla watched, weeping quietly.

“Don’t worry, my vampire queen,” Gabriel said. “We’ll meet again. I’ll find you in the afterlife.” He used to believe that dragons, shifters and vampires went to separate afterlives, specifically dragons to heaven, and all others hell. But he didn’t believe that anymore. All shifters and humans had a chance at the same glorious afterlife, depending on how they conducted themselves in life. It had nothing to do with what they were corporeally, but rather who.

He died free, knowing this.

From the corner of his eye, he watched the ax raise.

“I love you, Sevilla,” Gabriel said. Let those be his last words.

Sevilla whimpered.

Gabriel heard the hiss as the ax cut through the air.

And so my life ends...

He jumped when the heavy blade thudded into the platform in front of him. Splinters of wood splashed into the air.

The executioner had missed. How?

Glancing up, Gabriel saw the executioner’s arms were corded. The man was trying to remove the ax from where it was embedded in the wooden stage.

Someone must have used the Strength to deflect the blow. That was the only explanation. He had hidden helpers in the crowd.

Gabriel jumped to his feet and plowed into the executioner. He hit the gargantuan of a man and twisted around to the back of him. Gabriel opened his wrists, making the chain taut between the manacles, and slid it over the executioner’s throat. He dropped backward, putting all of his weight on the chain and choking the man.

The nearby guards rushed Gabriel, intending to attack.

But then all hell broke loose.

The vampires on the stage began falling under a hail of gunfire. The presumably undead dragons on the stage, meanwhile, froze as if bound up by air.

The crowd began yelling; some of them dispersed in fright.

Flame abruptly appeared on the stage, as did Cronus. They sliced up the frozen dragons with their Strength-enhanced swords, doing what gunfire wouldn’t have been able to do.

Muzzle flashes drew his attention upward, where other men were dashing inside from a tunnel that led to the Hooded Dale. Gabriel thought he recognized Jett at their head.

Sevilla had broken free of her captors. She retrieved a sword from one of the fallen vampires and hurried to Gabriel’s side just as the executioner finally dropped to his knees and collapsed. Gabriel released him and held his arms out to Sevilla. She struck down with her blade, cutting through the chain that joined his wrists. Shackles still hung from each arm, but at least he could move them freely.

He wrenched the executioner’s ax from where it was embedded in the wood of the platform. That black goo coating the tip would probably prove useful against any undead dragons he might face.

Flame and Cronus had leaped down to the area just in front of the stage, where they were fighting the other minions protecting Medeia. The vampire witch had called for reinforcements, and undead dragons and vampires were rushing the stage from the crowd.

“Down!” Gabriel told Sevilla. “You’re a sitting duck for any rifleman among the enemy.”

He and Sevilla leaped off the stage and into the fray. As they joined Flame and Cronus, Gabriel spotted Gwendoline on the far side of the platform, defending against two vampires. She was a swordsman in her own right. A young women stood with her, holding a severed arm adorned with dragon bone bracelets. She was covered in blood: her face and hair red with it. Obviously not her own.

He wasn’t sure because of all the blood, but he thought he recognized the woman as Jett’s lion shifter, Ariel. She was a witch. That explained who had saved him from the headman’s ax.

Gwendoline and Ariel joined him, and together with Sevilla, Flame and Cronus, they formed a united front six strong.

Dragons and vampires continued to rush them. Gabriel hewed them down easily with the black-tipped weapon, the corrosive substance sending them screaming to the ground with dark veins growing outward from the wounds. The effectiveness of the black liquid seemed to depend on the age and power of the target. The older and more powerful undead dragons needed more blows to take down with the weapon.

Though Cornelius Heftly lay dead on the ground—he was one of the first to have fallen—Medeia and her closest brethren had vanished. Gabriel spent a moment searching the crowd for her, to no avail. He suspected she had retreated to his estate.

Black-tipped arrows soon began to rain down, proving him right: the goo coating those arrows could only come from the vat in his mansion. Gabriel scooped up a ballistic shield from one of the fallen and held it over him and Sevilla. Innocent bystanders in the crowd began to scream as the arrows struck.

“Ariel!” Gabriel shouted. “Do what you can to deflect those arrows!”

“I’m trying!” Ariel said. “I’m exhausted.”

“Sevilla, help her!” Gabriel told her. He gave the shield to her.

Sevilla went to Ariel and protected the lion shifter and herself from the arrows with the shield. Sevilla gripped the severed arm, touching the dragon bone, then looked to the sky.

Gabriel followed her gaze, and watched as the next volley was deflected wide, sparing the crowd. And the next.

“Keep it up!” Gabriel shouted as he took down the next foe that rushed him.

Gabriel heard another commotion coming from the crowd.

“It’s King Jeddah!” someone shouted.

“My king, my sword is yours!” a second voice shouted from the throng.

“As is mine!” A third.

“My brothers!” Jett’s voice rang loud above the fighting. “We are besieged by vampires who would turn us into undead! Any dragons who rush the stage to attack Gabriel and my White Swords are already lost! Those of you who are capable, rally on me, brothers! We must defend them! The rest of you, return to your homes!”

Jett and his pride of lion shifters soon emerged from the crowd and joined Gabriel in the defense. They were accompanied by at least a score of dragons, and they bolstered the ranks against the onslaught.

“Under the platform!” Gabriel shouted. “Sevilla and Ariel can’t keep deflecting these arrows forever!”

Gabriel and the defenders sheltered under the wooden stage as the arrows continued to come in.

Swinging a sword, Jett fought his way to Gabriel’s side.

“The vampire witch told me you died!” Gabriel said.

“I thought I did, too,” Jett said, driving off a vampire. “I hit the mountain, lost consciousness. I awoke in the foothills, tended to by the White Swords. Apparently they fought off the undead dragons that came for me long enough to spirit me away. The enemy didn’t pursue far. They assumed I was done for, I suppose.”

“Glad to see you made it back in one piece,” Gabriel said.

“Yes,” Jett said. “One piece. Though I’m still healing from all the trees that harpooned me. Look.”

Gabriel finished his current foe and then glanced at his brother. Jett was holding out an arm. It was covered in ugly reddish scars—the types of scars one might expect to find on a human being who had suffered multiple gunshot wounds.

“Nice,” Gabriel said. “Now you finally look like the warrior you’ve always been.”

“As do you, brother,” Jett said. “That battle-ax suits you. But look at my lioness.”

“She’s covered in blood,” Gabriel said.

“I know,” Jett said. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

* * *

Jett was struck by a black-tipped arrow earlier during the course of the fighting, when wading through the crowd. He had broken the arrow away, and when the injury hadn’t begun to heal immediately, he had lifted his shirt to have a look at it, and realized a dark, gooey substance tainted the wound. The pain had been immense, but during his long years at war he had learned how to compartmentalize agony such as that. And so he fought on, ignoring it, confident that the wound would be fully healed by the time the battle was done.

But it didn’t heal. In fact, it got worse.

So by the time they had slain the last of the undead dragons and the vampires with them, he could barely stand.

Cliff rushed to his side. “Razor and Connor tell me they spotted a small party of vampires fleeing into one of the tunnels leading outside Midnight. They recognized her as the same vampire who attacked our pride four months ago. You know, the one whose head I blew off?”

“Medeia,” Gabriel said. “We can’t let her get away.”

“Go get her,” Jett told his brother, breathing hard. “Cliff, take the White Swords, and half of the pride. Go with Gabriel.”

“Are you all right, brother?” Gabriel asked, turning to face him full on. “You look extremely pale.”

“Never better,” Jett said. “Well come on then, the vampire witch is getting away. If we don’t stop her now, she’ll return to harass us another day.”

“All right,” Gabriel said. “Make sure you see Ephephany for some healing, though. You really look like you’re in bad shape.”

The beautiful vampire witch who had been fighting by Gabriel’s side came forward.

“I’m coming with you,” she told Gabriel.

“I’m probably going to transform when I get out there you know, Sevilla,” Gabriel said.

She smiled playfully. “I hope so. I’m looking forward to seeing you in dragon form. And I’ll expect you to give me a ride.”

Gabriel shook his head and glanced at Jett. “See what I’ve had to put up with in your absence, brother?”

“Well I’ll be,” Jett said. “I’d almost think you’ve fallen in love, Gabriel. But that can’t be possible now, can it? Gabriel Vespasianus, seducer of dragon women extraordinaire, has gone and tasted the forbidden fruit of a vampire. What happened to the First Rule, little brother?”

“Shut it,” Gabriel said. He glanced at Sevilla and Cliff. “Come on, let’s go.”

Jett watched his brother run off with Cliff and the vampire woman. The White Swords and half the pride went with him. Gwendoline and Ariel remained behind with the remaining members of the defenders.

As Ariel approached, Jett leaned heavily on the longsword he held, using it as a cane. His lioness was still covered in blood, and she wielded that severed arm like a club. She had given up some of the bracelets on the arm to the woman Gabriel had named Sevilla.

“Well that was entertaining, huh, Dragon?” Ariel said. “Hanging out with you is always a barrel of fun.”

Jett forced a smile.

“We should probably make a sweep of the city,” Ariel said. “Confirm there aren’t any more undead dragons hanging out here. We can let Ephephany know we were right all along. She might still have members of the Black Guard watching her. Undead we’ll need to dispose of.” She looked him up and down. “Assuming you’re up for it. What’s the matter, a little fighting got you winded?”

“I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Jett said.

“Are you all right?” she asked. Concern painted her face.

He waved a dismissive hand. “Fine fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Okay...”

“Go with her,” Jett told the dragons from the crowd who had joined him, as well as the other members of the pride who remained behind.

She started to walk away, seeming reluctant to leave him. She looked back, and when he waved at her and smiled reassuringly, she quickened her pace.

Jett intended to sit down and rest only for a moment, but unfortunately his body didn’t want to cooperate and his legs gave out on him entirely. He crumbled to the ground, holding his torso up with one arm.

Maybe he’d be taking a longer rest.

Stars filled his vision.

A far longer rest, at that. The pain in his side flared with a renewed intensity that he just couldn’t block. Agony seared through his body.

“Sire!” one his loyal dragons shouted as he collapsed entirely.