The battle shifted.
The blood-rain still poured, fireballs still streaked the sky, but for Alex everything had narrowed into one desperate direction: the river.
The cursed river hissed before them, a black ribbon in the battlefield. Its surface writhed with salt and garlic, making the water bubble like acid. The stench filled the air, sharp and suffocating. For a vampire—or a shadow born of one—this river was death itself.
Claire knew it.
Her face shifted wildly as Alex and Liam forced her back, their swords locking with her clawed shadows. One instant she wore Jude's boyish grin, the next Marcus's weary face, then Harper's wide eyes twisted in pain. She was trying to break them. Trying to break him.
"Alex," Claire cooed, her voice warping between tones, too many at once. "My sweet boy. Why do you fight me? I raised you, didn't I? I tucked you in, I kissed your scraped knees, I held you when you cried."
