It took three cars to deliver all of the Blanchard witches to the downtown streets of Tuscaloosa. Downtown, consisting of merely six streets horizontally and six streets vertically, wasn’t too challenging when it came to finding the most likely lofts where Patric might have Yasmine stashed. The streets where the local restaurants and bars were located seemed an unlikely choice to hold someone against their will without being seen or heard. The family focused their attention to the avenues of shops which were already closed up for the night. The avenue of shops proved to be a pretty desolate area at this time, therefore it was likely a perfect locale for Patric’s plans.

  Standing on the sidewalk in front of two dress boutiques and a cigar shop, Fable focused her instincts to feel out the air around, trying to locate any possible animal scents. It did not take long for her to pick something up. She bristled and slowly reached out to grab her grandmother’s wrist.

  “We’ve walked into a trap,” she said. “Look up slowly.”

  Shadowy figures prowled the rooftops of the buildings all around. Hunched figures, on all fours, stalking the perimeters of the three-story structures in every direction they turned. Low growls could be faintly heard over the night wind.

  “They know we’re here,” Olympia warned the others.

  “Can you freeze them Salem?” Artemis asked.

  “I’m too far away from most of them,” Salem said, gesturing to the buildings down the block.

  “Which building is Patric in?” Demitra asked Fable.

  Fable closed her eyes and concentrated. She could not locate him. She didn’t expect that she’d have much success in the first place. It wasn’t as if she ever really used her power to search out animals. But then she remembered her one ace in the hole which no one else knew about. I’m pregnant. I have Patric’s child inside me. A part of him.

  She tried focusing again, this time inwardly. She directed her power to hone in on the being inside her body—to feel it, to sense it. It was a distinctive and singularly different kind of being than she had ever felt before. Then she focused outward to the air, searching—scanning—the buildings around her for a sensation that resembled what lay inside her. She found something. A very similar feeling coming from somewhere inside a building diagonally opposite her. The building housed a small lunchtime café in the bottom, now closed. On the top floor, cast in glowing red from the lights of the Bama Theater across the street, she felt Patric. On the rooftop above paced a disturbing number of wolves.

  “Salem,” she whispered, pointing. “Can you reach those over there?”

  “I think so,” Salem said. “Maybe.”

  “Wait for my signal,” Fable advised. “Grandmother, Aunt Artemis, Seth…get ready to use your powers. Everyone waits for my signal. I have to get some reinforcements first.”

  “Reinforcements?” Demitra questioned.

  “I’m going to try something I’ve never tried from this far away before,” Fable explained.

  She closed her eyes and focused her brain. Her family watched, unsure what it was exactly she was doing. It all became clear when after a few seconds, the distant sound of squawks and calls drifted into earshot. Overhead in the distance, the half-moon was temporarily covered, not by clouds, but by a wave of black soaring across the sky. Birds. Hundreds of birds.

  “Now!” Fable shouted.

  The wolves atop the buildings jerked to attention as Salem tossed her hands to the air and froze in place the wolves standing sentry on top of Patric’s building. Two blocks down the wolves which had been the furthest away began charging across the rooftops, lurching across alleys to leap onto the next roofline, gaining closer ground to the Blanchards below. The swarm of birds in flight dipped their wings to bank left and began their descent, swooping down onto the rooftop wolves, attacking, pecking, stabbing their sharp beaks into the backs of the beasts. Some tumbled off the roofs to the street below, some fell injured only to be engulfed by the winged warriors in victory. But other wolves, most wolves, escaped Fable’s army and began leaping down to the streets, charging forward at the Blanchards.

  “I can’t go with you,” Yasmine told Patric inside the loft. “I’d have to leave my family. Leave Seth.”

  “I am your family!” Patric shouted angrily.

  “Ollie, listen to me,” she pleaded. “I am a Blanchard. They have raised me. Raised me the way Teague raised you. I don’t want to leave them. And Seth, he’s the only man in the world for me. We’re being married tomorrow.”

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  “No, you aren’t,” Patric hissed. “I will not allow that. You belong with me.” Suddenly he turned his attention away from his captive sister and bolted to the windows. “They are here.”

  He saw the attack happening below on the streets and above on the rooftops. The birds wounding and killing his soldiers. He saw injured bodies of wolves falling to the ground below. But he also saw his most persistent warriors hitting the streets on their hooves charging towards his enemies. Patric whirled around to face his sister.

  “The Blanchards are here. But they will all die on these streets.”

  Yasmine rushed to the window herself. She saw the havoc below. Grabbing the first object she had near her, a large iron lantern with a candle inside, she hurled it through the third-floor window, sending it crashing to the sidewalk below.

  “Seth!” she screamed.

  Below on the street, Seth heard the cry of his beloved and looked up to see her frightened face in the window. He sprinted forward into race mode. He had to get to her. Had to save her from the clutches of the monster who held her there.

  Above, Patric stood watching. He lifted his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes, focusing his intentions for his target. “Now,” he said.

  Suddenly as Seth darted towards the building, something crashed through the second-floor window landing sure-footed on the sidewalk below. Beryl could see from several yards back the face of her patient, Lana Leighton standing on the sidewalk, quickly transforming into her wolf form.

  Salem had seen this as well. With one broad clap of her hands above her head, the sidewalk on either side of Lana rose up, as if hinged on either side, and slammed together, smashing Lana between the now exploding rubble. Seth sidestepped the onslaught of flying stone and rock from the explosion. He jumped through the door of the building and bounded up the stairs. Lana, bloodied, battered—but still alive, and now enraged, stood heaving in place, staring murderously at Salem. Salem watched Lana’s face; it appeared to be deliberating. Lana’s monstrous eyes wanted revenge on the witch for injuring her, but her master’s command was more powerful—stop Seth. She dashed inside the building after him, leaving Salem unharmed, for now.

  Salem ran forward after Lana, freezing some wolves and dodging others, as well as blowing one or two up into a fiery burst. Others, too far away to blow up or freeze, she sent tumbling down the street out of her way with the wave of an arm. Arielle followed Salem’s footsteps, using the cleared path laid before her to get to, and back up her sister.

  In the street, the wolves not killed by birds were coming full force at the rest of the Blanchards. Fable turned to see poor old Zelda, wolf on her back, being ripped to shreds. Fable directed what birds were still around to aid the poor woman. Down the street, Fable’s next line of defense was heading her way as every free dog in the surrounding area came racing forward through the city blocks to assist in the fight. Dogs leapt onto wolves, occupying and distracting them from their murderous attempts on the Blanchards.

  Olympia raced to her friend and waved her hand, sending the wolf attacking Zelda flying through the plate glass window of the cigar shop. The flight of birds darted through the dangling shards of the window frame, all after the wolf now laying on the cigar shop floor. Beryl moved quickly to Zelda and began healing her mortal wounds.

  Artemis took out six wolves with two parked delivery vans which she pulled into action by envisioning them driving over every wolf in their path. Demitra now brandished the acid tank and hose she’d withdrawn from the trunk of her car. The fact that she had no active power to assist in battles did not stop her from reducing wolves to mush with the squeeze of the trigger.

  Inside the loft, Yasmine was pleading with Patric to stop the attacks on her family. “Please Ollie, stop all this. They can help you. They can help you overcome this. The Blanchards can stop your suffering.”

  “Suffering?!” he bellowed. “I’m not suffering. Do you not comprehend the power I wield? I am one of the strongest creatures this earth has ever known!”

  “But you’re a killer Ollie.”

  “Even that is breathtaking!” he said. He was frightening her now. Gone was the safety she had felt in his presence earlier. Now her brother was the ruthless killer he had been that night at Blanchard House. “Do you know what real power is, Yasmina? To hold someone’s life in your very hands. To watch them plead, scream, cry, beg for your mercy…and then not give it to them. It is ecstasy.”

  Yasmine started backing away from him. Backing her body against the wall, trying to place as much distance as she could between herself and the monster she saw before her. “Seth!” she screamed.

  “You are mine!” Patric roared, bounding forward onto his now transforming haunches, transitioning mid leap into the ferocious creature inside. Yasmine saw the wiry fur burst forth from her brother’s flesh; his nose twist and contort into a dark shiny snout; his skeletal form morphing into the broad, powerful beast he really was. The wolf grabbed her wrists, thrusting her forward into him. “You are mine! You are coming with me. But first I will make sure you will never be one of them. You will be like me!” He opened his jaws to show her his sharp, deadly fangs.

  “Patric, no!” she shrieked.

  His eyes changed momentarily. Their fury turned to hurt. “So, it’s Patric now. Not Ollie,” he snarled.

  “Ollie wouldn’t hurt me,” she said. “Patric is evil!”

  Patric swiped at her face, gashing it deep, sending her hurtling into the table she had awakened on. He pounced forward again. She dodged him, diving under the table and standing suddenly with it, knocking him back into the wall as she whipped it around to protect her body from his reach. He swiped at the table with his paw and sent it flying out of her grip. He crept closer, backing her steadily against the brick wall. He gripped her shoulders, digging his razor claws into her flesh and piercing her shoulder blades as he pinned her to the wall. His jaws inched closer to her neck. Yasmine knew it was all over now. This was the end. She screamed one final scream.