From the south, chaos erupted. The sounds of snarling and shouting rent the night.
Zarek and his team materialized from the shadows, along with half a dozen more men in black. The vampires moved with inhuman speed, but the Collectors were ready. Magic flared. Steel rang against steel.
Matt's wolves swept in from the north, a tide of fur and fangs, powerful and graceful. They hit the Collectors like a wave.
For a moment, it looked like it would be over in seconds.
Then the cabin's side door opened, and two more operatives emerged. These weren't foot soldiers—Muriel could see it in the way they moved. Powerful magic gathered around them, black and oily.
These weren’t simply mages, but sorcerers wielding dark magic.
One raised their hands, and purple light exploded outward in a concussive wave. Wolves yelped, thrown back by the force of the blast. Even Jessie tumbled, hitting hard.
“No,” Muriel breathed.
Jason engaged the second operative, his hands glowing with a purple light of his own.
Muriel blinked.
He was holding his own, but barely. And now Zarek's team was struggling, three operatives pressing them back with coordinated attacks that spoke of years working together.
Things had taken a turn for the worse.
One of the Collectors raised a hand toward the wolves, gathering magic. Muriel recognized the spell's signature from one of Brandon's grimoires—a binding that would freeze them in place, make them easy targets.
No.
TheCodexblazed hot against her back. The oak beneath her thrummed with power. And Muriel suddenlyfeltit—the network of roots beneath the cabin, spreading through the hillside like veins. The trees surrounding the clearing. The earth itself, wild and eager and waiting for her toask.
She'd been sheltered. Protected. Afraid. Letting others fight her battles for her.
No more.
Hermatewas in that basement.
These people hadhurthim.
Muriel pressed her palms to the oak's trunk andcalled.
The forest roared in response.
Roots erupted from the earth like serpents, wrapping around the caster’s ankles. He went down hard, his binding spell sputtering out. Vines shot from the tree line, fast as whips, entangling another mercenary's arms. Above her, storm clouds gathered and lightning flashed.
Jason's head snapped up, finding her in the tree. His eyes widened.
Muriel didn't stop. She could feel the magic sliding into place like pieces of a precision puzzle, coming together perfectly as the elements answered her call. TheCodexfed her knowledge, showed her how to shape the magic, how to command instead of request.
More vines. Roots violently shifting beneath feet, tossing the Collectors onto their butts. Branches sweeping down like clubs when they tried to get back to their feet. The forest itself fighting alongside the vampires and shifters, wanting to help.
The mercenaries who'd thrown spells at the wolves scrambled backward, but the ground beneath them turned to mud, trapping their feet. They sank to their knees, cursing.
The silvery form of the spirit shot out of the chimney and floated over to Muriel. Muriel stared intofathomless black eyes, made even blacker by the radiance of the specter.
“Muriel?” the ghostly female asked, her voice like icy chimes, at once beautiful and cold. When Muriel nodded, she said, “I’m Marcella. Brandon is in the basement. They have suppressor cuffs on him. Jason awaits you at the window to the west.”
Muriel dropped from the tree before the ghost finished speaking, her descent controlled by branches that lowered her like a lift. Her feet hit the ground running.
Jason met her at the cabin's west side, where a small window sat at ground level, reinforced with old iron bars.