The faces of the Daughters who followed behind Grace turned grim, contrasting with the lunatic sneer on their leader. They stepped over the rubble and debris to form a loose semi-circle around Rory. The Immaculate glanced at each other and down at her with disquiet expressions. Half of her face was an ugly mess of welts and bruises while the other had mild scratches from the blast.

Rory turned away from the Immaculate Daughters to look at her friends as they rushed to her side, only to stop short with matching faces of alarm.

Doc’s eyes blazed with a burning hatred at Grace, who, Rory noticed as she followed his line of sight, brandished a dagger in her direction.

I really should be more concerned, but I’m all out of fucks to give.

Rory opened her mouth to speak, but Grace held the sharpened point to her throat.

“One word and it’s your last.” Her insane eyes flashed to the group of witches as they crept closer, but returned just as fast to Rory’s face and neck. “Same for all of you. Move and there’s one less blight on this earth.”

Rosemary, who had left the dowsing rod next to the crumpled form of Asher, held her hands up and spoke softly. “What has this woman done to you? What have any of us done to you to deserve this treatment?”

Grace scoffed at her, though her eyes stayed fixed, watchful of Rory now in her grasp. “What haven’t you done? Your kind is a blight. Deals made; plans whispered in shadows. Don’t think I don’t know. Vic Templeton told me in gory detail all your disgusting ideas.”

Fucking Vic. He’s even haunting us after Byron killed him. Why can’t he just stay dead?

Riled by her own words, Grace let the dagger’s point push its way a little more into Rory’s throat. “He told me all about your perverse rituals and how you’ll win over Alma. I was seeing it happen right in front of my eyes while the previous Catherine allowed it to take place. The faithful stopped coming to be healed in favor of witch medicine. Your tainted foods tempted us to eat, but we all know it rotted on our insides. Husbands of Alma poisoned their blood with the toxic cures created by your alchemist. The dark-skinned one dripped venom in the ears of the villagers who lost loved ones during the assault on our beloved Alma. The same attack caused by the creatures you keep safe. How is it your vampires happen to always be the weapons that kill us while your hands stay clean?”

Gus walked towards them; his face twisted in rage. He held a small leather pouch, its strings wrapped around his fingers. Lines of tears muddied his filthy visage.

Grace pushed the dagger harder, this time puncturing the skin.

To avoid crying out, Rory bit down on her tongue. Her mouth flooded with a copper tang.

“What about Blue?” Gus asked and held up the bag for them to see, though it bore no meaning for them. His shoulders deflated, and he caressed the object. His eyes found Rory’s. “Maggie, gone.” His chest heaved. “Wife. Not dead from Blue powder. Dead from man in metal clothes with ax.”

Rory fought to catch her breath as her mind drifted to her first meeting with Maggie as she struggled to come to grips with the news. Her pregnant waddles and kind hands. A bright pain lodged deep inside her that blossomed into a cleansing fire. It ran along her limbs and up her neck. Any measure of fear for her other half or wasted potential scorched and shriveled. The monster didn’t need to be a constant threat, and it didn’t need to control her either. It was there, but so was she. And she was stronger.

She closed her eyes and walked to the cage inside her mind. The bird sang as she approached. With a flick of her wrist, the enclosure vanished, leaving only the chickadee. It flapped its wings and fluttered to the front of her thoughts, melding with her own.

Rory’s form melted away in an outpouring of magic, and a little bird flew into the sky.

Grace cried out and reached for the support of her fellow Daughters but her flock turned their backs on her, their faces filled with contempt and disgust.

With her human shield gone, the angry Blueskin and the witches moved in on Grace.

Perched in the tree blocking Alma’s front gate, the bird sang. Only to go silent when there was a taste of something she didn’t like in the breeze. Rory looked to the horizon and watched as an army of Mara’s servants drew closer. She’d wondered what became of them. Instead of the handful she’d seen earlier, there were hundreds—thousands even, hovering towards them. Their lit eyes formed a halo of light.

Doc twisted to watch what caught Rory’s attention and grabbed the other witches to pull them aside.

“Almost made me spill my flask,” Sven said, and shrugged off Doc’s meaty grip on his jacket. He turned to see the approaching army and his good eye widened. “Fuck me. Didn’t know there were so many.”

Gus stopped his attack and ran. The Blueskins remained uneasy around magic, and the air thrummed with unnatural energies.

Rory watched him go and landed beside the cluster of witches. With a flex of her will, she returned to her human shape, where she stood transfixed, unaware of her nakedness.

Doc, well aware of her exposed flesh, turned a bright red. He stripped his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Rory said and grinned at his bashful nod. She buttoned it closed while they waited for the procession to arrive.

Grace watched with horrified eyes. Her muscles twitched. Whether through magic or fear, she stood stock still. The Daughters cried out, some returning through the hole to escape. Inside the gates there were sounds of running and panicked shrieks.

The servants stopped only fifteen yards from the witches. They parted and raised their hands, creating a long hallway of their bodies. The air between them shifted and bubbled.

Until Mara stepped through. She held her cobalt staff in one hand and pointed at Grace with another. Her eyes were the same black pits of fiery coals as Rory remembered, and she fought the urge to cry out.

“Grace, Immaculate Daughter of Alma, murderer and sower of discord. It’s time to pay for your crimes,” Mara’s voice boomed. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Grace lifted her chin, her eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ve protected my flock from the hatred and filth of this world. If I need to die for them, I will.”

Mara cackled. “You won’t be dying anytime soon, my dear. There are plans in motion you tried to destroy. And for that, you must pay a price.”

Grace recoiled and slapped the old witch across her face. The hit echoed in the near stillness.

“Fuck me, that was stupid,” Sven said and took a hard pull from his flask.

“You have no idea, Thurston,” Mara said absently. “She just bought herself a few more decades.” She turned her full attention to the false Catherine. Two arthritic fingers pushed their way into the squirming woman’s rib cage.

The muscles in Grace’s legs strained to run but were no longer her own. She screamed and struck at the old woman.

Mara never flinched. “Come on, girlie. Keep hitting me. I’ll just make it hurt more.” She turned the wrist that held the fingers lodged in Grace’s chest and breathed in her screams like a fine wine. She withdrew her fingers along with something else.

A silvery form dangled from the old crone’s fingertips. It took the shape of Grace and made a silent plea for help before sliding down Mara’s throat.

All traces of the former Daughter once known as Grace vanished. Her hair became long and wild, burning a violent crimson. Her eyes dimmed before pulsing in bright white. Then grew to a steady glow. The new nameless servant crumbled to her knees in a reverent bow. Mara turned away, and the other unnamed ushered the former Grace into their fold.

“Rosemary,” Mara said, her lips twisted into a sneer. Her eyes returned to their familiar cataract stricken blue.

“Mara,” she said in a pleasant tone and smiled at her.

“Where’s the ancient bitch?” Mara asked and scanned the crowd.

“With her own people. She’s always preferred their company.”

“Who?” Rory hated when conversations went on above her head and this one was out in the stratosphere.

Rosemary waved a hand. Her bracelets chimed with the movements. There would be no further conversation on the matter.

“Your spawn is injured.”

“My son, you mean. But he’s not dead.”

“No. But, look, my champion and her companions aren’t so bad off.” Mara inspected the small band of witches. “You’ll heal them all?” She directed the question to Doc, who nodded. “The alchemist may lose the eye, though.”

Sven thought about it for a moment and made a face. “I’d rather not.”

“Let that be another lesson, then. If it heals, count yourself lucky and never forget yourself around magic. If you lose it, well, it’ll be easier to remember. Especially when you’re too intoxicated to see straight.”

“He was worried for my safety.” Nadine spoke, but her gaze remained fixed to the ground.

“Why wouldn’t he be? He’s the South to your North. It’s a compulsion to complete the circle despite your opposite direction in life. You’re drawn to one another just as much as East is to West.” Mara’s hands waved at Rory and Doc.

“I’m not sure what any of this means,” Rory said, aware of Doc’s protective arm around her waist.

“I do,” Nadine said. “It means we’re not random at all, and the tea leaves were right about our group of four.”

“About that, you never explained what you meant that first day we met.”

“And now she doesn’t need to.” Mara drew closer to Rory. “It was preferable not to make you endure those sufferings, my dear. But it appears to have been worth the trouble. You’re a stubborn one.” The corners of her wrinkled lips turned up, and a sparkle entered her eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

Rory figured it was the closest she’d receive to an apology and accepted it. The experience was horrible, but she imagined having the old crone as an enemy would be worse. But some grudges died hard, and Mara hadn’t ever been what Rory would consider friendly.

“Until we meet again,” Mara walked back to her retinue and stopped, shouting over her shoulder. “I’ve reopened the portal to my domain in the cellar. Some fool must have closed it.” And with that said, she vanished.

As if he’d been waiting for the excitement to die down, Billie slunk beside them. “She looks really bad outside of her land.”

“Did you catch any of that?” Doc asked.

“Most of it. I’ve been checking on Molly and Travis. They’re okay. An old lady came, and they wanted to run with her. She made me uncomfortable, so I hid and ran away when it was safe.”

Rory nodded to him and felt guilty she hadn’t given the vampires’ wellbeing much thought. Guess that’s why he’s the liaison and I’m not.

Behind her there was a great moan of shifting wood. The servants, as a collective, moved the tree parked in front of the gates to its original place. The collapsed tunnels reformed and the surrounding earth filled in, returning to its former state. They thrust their hands towards the outer layer of fencing and tore at the space before them. The wall crumbled into glittery dust. Finished with their work, they all turned as one and vanished.

“You saw that right?” Sven asked and took a drink. He fished in his pockets, pulled a few capsules from a baggie and swallowed.

“Yup,” Nadine said, frowning at him. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“And I wish you wouldn’t say that, but you did.” Sven flinched. “Sorry, love. Doc needed some time to recharge and I’m still hurtin’ somethin’ massive. If it helps, it ain’t as strong as some others I’ve got.”

“So what do we do now? I think we won the day.” Billie beamed.

“I need to get Sven and Asher back to the farmhouse so I can heal them. It’s going to take a while.” Doc turned his head toward Asher’s broken body in the distance and closed his eyes.

“You’ll do great,” Rory said. “And have plenty of help. I’m sure Rosemary will be right next to you.”

Doc asked, “Not coming along?”

“No. Not yet, at least. Figure there’s more I can do around here.” After the concerned expression failed to leave his face she added, “I’ll be back sometime tonight. The portals are working, but the city won’t be safe until things have time to settle.”

“I’ll wait up for you.” He brushed the injured side of her face and felt the cool rush of his magic heal her. His eyes flickered to milky white, and he washed it away. “Beautiful.”

She stood on her tiptoes and pulled his head towards her. Her lips grazed the stubble on his cheek. “Thank you.”

He nodded into the curve of her neck until pulling aside and straightening himself. “Be careful, please.”

Beside them, Nadine took Sven’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m sticking around with Rory. Billie, you help Doc if he needs anything, all right?”

“You bet. I’ll be his nurse, just like Rory. Don’t get too carried away pretending I’m her, Doc. I’m in a thruple now and spoken for.” He blushed and thought about it further. “But they might not mind-”

“A helping hand is all I need,” Doc said as he walked, shaking his head.

Billie swept both women into a massive hug and kissed the top of their heads. “I’m so happy right now. C’mon, Mr. Sven, let’s go.”

“If it didn’t feel like my face was meltin’ off, I’d run off with you two. Billie and his bloomin’ good mood. There ain’t enough drugs in the world for this.” He sighed. “Be safe. Both of you. Hurry back before I invent ways to kill the immortal wanker.” He continued to grumble while walking away.

Nadine and Rory held hands. They’d need each other’s strength for whatever came next.