The knife blade bit into Billy’s throat, leaving a thin slice that let a few drops of blood slide down the curve of his neck. Black blood. Riordan swore under his breath. The spell was concealed damn well until the guard’s blood was out in the open, practically writhing with shadows. The level of concealment would have been needed, given that it likely got slipped past Quinn and Frankie both. Riordan wasn’t sure when it could have been cast. A side effect of the mess at the border? Something really recent? Something from when they were all out investigating?

Riordan couldn’t even begin to guess, especially when his mind was whirling with the question of what the hell he did now. He had no idea how hard to remove that spell was, but he didn’t feel okay just letting Billy slit his own throat under compulsion. He eased a step closer, asking, “Alright, I don’t want you to die. Who else would die, Billy?”

“Me. Then Norris and Maudy. Then the cult members and everyone else they can get their hands on if they have to start it all from scratch again,” Billy said hollowly, seeming unperturbed by the knife digging into his throat a bit more as he talked, “All in one go this time, instead of taking it slow and dragging it out.”

Gods, there was so much madness wrapped up in that answer. Riordan wasn’t sure if the cultists actually had captured Norris and Maudy to threaten so, or if Billy was working off of old information. Even without those hostages, Riordan could just see the massacre being threatened in his mind’s eye. Quinn had estimated between a hundred to two hundred cult members. With both the mundane manipulations and the magical ones, it couldn’t be that hard to convince them that they needed to lay down their lives to make a new Kali, born of their magical prophetess or however she styled herself.

Everyone would chalk it up to yet another regrettable cult suicide that everyone claimed that they hadn’t seen coming, even as the cult had escalated its isolation and rhetoric bit by bit over the last however long. Survivors indeed, damn it. The death mage was holding her own cult captive to lure Riordan out.

And it was working, damn it.

Riordan knew she was likely lying. Now that this idea had occurred to the death mage, it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination that she’d want Riordan and her whole damned cult fed into her bid for godhood. All the ghosts. All the cult members. Riordan, for whatever he was worth in her twisty brain. Given how much of a wrench he’d thrown into her plans and how much effort she was putting into luring him out here, Riordan suspected her madness had assigned some greater meaning to his life and death.

Or perhaps she just wanted a mage to sacrifice to this thing and any of the pack members would have done, though in that case, she could have made off with Billy instead of sending him here as a puppet messenger.

“Where do I need to go?” Riordan asked, trying to see what the parameters of Billy’s orders were even as he carefully moved towards Billy. He held his own kitchen knife down by his side now, trying not to spook Billy or the spell he was under. “I’ll go there, so where do I need to go?”

“You need to come with me,” Billy repeated, moving finally. He backed up and slid back out the door, his gaze never leaving Riordan. His movements were jerky, way out of keeping with the man’s normally smooth gait. Riordan saw a flicker of awareness in those blank eyes and the man stumbled as he exited the building. The knife bit deeper into his throat, blood flowing down his neck noticeably but not lethally, especially not for a shifter.

That stumble gave Riordan a chance. He dropped his own knife and lunged forward, one hand grabbing Billy’s knife hand and yanking it away from his throat even as Riordan tackled Billy to the ground. They hit the dirt hard, knocking the wind out of Billy’s lungs and further loosening his grip. With a twisting motion, Riordan broke Billy’s hold and the combat knife clattered to the dirt. He managed to knock it away from their struggle even as Billy twisted and bucked madly.

The compulsion was riding the man hard. Billy thrashed, banging his head against the ground and jarring his teeth. Riordan saw the moment the man opened his mouth with intent, that glimmer of awareness flashing through his eyes again. He shoved his left forearm into Billy’s mouth, preventing him from biting off his own tongue but growling in pain as Billy bit down. Riordan’s own blood ran red as normal, creating a vivid counterpoint against the black blood on his neck. Belatedly, he drew on his badger side for a partial shift, his skin growing tougher and looser, repelling further damage.

“VERA!” Riordan hollered, pinning the bucking Billy with his forearm to the man’s face and his body weight spread over the other man’s more compact form. “Vera, I need you out here now!”

He was gratified at the speed with which the woman arrived in response to his call. Riordan thought he saw some other faces peer through windows at him, but Vera was the only one to step outside. Riordan couldn’t spare her much attention since Billy was still bucking and flailing like a wild animal. He was grateful that either the compulsion did not allow Billy’s own combat training to be used properly or the man was throwing himself into the wildness to avoid having to fight seriously. Riordan knew Billy was fighting the compulsion, but couldn’t be sure how successful he was being at any given moment.

“Riordan, what--” Vera started. Riordan was only glad she didn’t rip him off Billy the way her tone and body language said she was aching to.

“He’s under a compulsion,” Riordan growled, wincing as Billy ground his teeth further into Riordan’s forearm. The bastard had missed the rope wrapping that arm, of course, just getting a nice mouthful of bare flesh. It hurt, though not as much as it would to anyone else. Still, not something he wanted to maintain indefinitely. Riordan continued his quick explanation, “I need to go with him or he’s supposed to kill himself.”

Vera began swearing up a storm, her words harsh enough to make a sailor blush and all the more impressive for being at odds with her appearance as a rosy-cheeked grandmother. She cut off mid-swear before saying, “We’ll have to restrain him until Agent Morrish returns and can examine him.”

“There’s more,” Riordan said, shaking his head, “If he doesn’t return with me, it sounds like the death mage is going to do a mass suicide ritual with her cult. Worse, Billy implied that the cult had Norris and Maudy and they were going to be sacrificed in that too. Have you heard from either of them yet?”

“Witch’s bloody tits,” Vera muttered before saying more loudly, “No, I haven’t. They are alive still, but that’s all I know for sure.”

“Then I want to go with Billy,” Riordan declared, surprised at his own intent. As he said it, he knew it was what he wanted though. He didn’t want to let this get drawn out, accumulating victims on every side. He wanted a confrontation and an end to it. He wanted to fight. He wanted to win.

He would win, damn it.

“Riordan!” a voice gasped beside him. Daniel. Riordan had almost forgotten that his friend was with him with all his focus going to keeping Billy safely restrained. “Don’t--”

Daniel cut off as Vera began speaking as well, “What, and deliver you right to our enemy?”

“Yes,” Riordan said, “Right to our enemy, with the rest of you following on my damn heels hopefully. Before things can get worse or they can pull some other bullshit trick out of their asses.”

“You’re crazy,” Vera spat, though she moved closer and helped hold Billy down more safely, “You’re asking me to let you risk yourself, the completion of a death magic ritual, and the lives of several of my pack on you surviving long enough to be bait.”

“And if you don’t, then we are risking the completion of one or more death magic rituals, the mass suicide of a hundred or more potential innocent people, and the lives of several of your pack members,” Riordan growled right back, not backing down an inch. “If you’ve got a better idea, let me know.”

“We gather everyone and hit them at their compound and the tree ritual site before they can pull off the suicide,” Vera offered.

Riordan laughed, “Which is basically the same idea as mine, only we’re splitting out forces to besiege multiple of their sites at once, all of which have traps and defenses. If I act as bait, we know where to hit with everything.”

“Only if they aren’t just tricking you!” Vera wasn’t persuaded at all, her blue eyes flashing and her teeth sharpening as she partially shifted. Riordan took it as an intentional challenge rather than a loss of control. “They could lure you in, toss you in a pit, and then kill everyone else before pulling you out to sacrifice later.”

“They could,” Riordan agreed, letting his voice drop to something more vaguely calm, “There are no guarantees. Billy might die as soon as I get there. Norris and Maudy might be free and not captured at all. They might be bluffing this whole thing. Or if we wait too long, we’ll be bathing in blood and fighting some sort of death demigod. Billy seems willing to die rather than let that happen. I know I am too. What are you willing to risk, right now, to stop them?”

Riordan drew in a breath and tried to will Vera to see how sincere he was. “Because I’m willing to risk everything in the hopes of saving everyone I can. Right now. Before it’s too late.”