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She had scarce had the thought when the whole sky changed, with filaments of what looked like starlight rushing upward from the ground toward the great storm, as the Mothers finished their task and prepared to launch their great weapon at their enemies. She remembered this part vividly, remembered staring in wonder and no little awe at the collective power flowing from rock and tree and ground to the sky, breathtaking in its intensity.

Like a bowman drawing back the bow, she had thought then. Only now she thought differently. Now it was a warning: time was up.

Morgan recognized it, too, and threw herself at Gillian.

“Cease this foolishness,” Gillian gasped. “I’m not helping you, and whatever you think, you can’t do it without me!”

“Then I’ll do it with you!” And this time, Morgan didn’t grab the staff.

She grabbed Gillian.

* * *

Kit stared at the sky, as what looked like a silver waterfall of power met overhead, flowing upward instead of down. It made him dizzy, as if he was running across the great vault of the heavens with stars all around. It was such a vivid impression that he almost stumbled.

But the dhampir was there, and grabbed his arm. And then the mad horde of ghosts streamed by overhead, pale blue and pink, green and yellow, lavender and silver, and every other color imaginable. Like a living rainbow flowing through the trees, turning it from the strange to the unimaginable.

The dhampir seemed to feel the same, looking at him with ghost light in her eyes.

“Don’t see that every day.”

That pretty much could be said about his life lately, Kit thought, and redoubled his speed.

She kept pace with him, yet both of them were too slow for the ghost army they had collected, which burst into the glade moments before they did. They arrived to find witches screaming and shielding and scattering, the portal wobbling madly, trees whipping and cracking and breaking and the sky going mad overhead. It was bedlam, and that was before a group of war mages burst through the trees, likely drawn by the portal spiraling into the air like a giant, blue-white snake with an open mouth.

One that was about to swallow Gillian.

Kit started forward, because the hedge of witches was gone now, but the dhampir grabbed his arm.

“You are not going in there!”

“Leave me be—”

“I’m responsible for you! You can’t—”

She broke off and they dove for the ground when half a dozen spells burned through the air where they’d just been standing. And they had barely gotten back to their feet when they spotted a group of mages running at them, full tilt. Only to stop abruptly when a huge, bumpy, tentacled creature swooped out of the sky, massive maw open and screeching.

He and the dhampir jumped in opposite directions to avoid her ghostly friend, and Kit took the chance to all but fly back to the portal. Where he found the situation far worse than before. Not only was the damned thing much closer to the ground, to the point that he had to bend over to see inside, but it was spinning far faster as well.

And then the Corps started firing at the portal, probably thinking that their enemies planned to use it to escape.

It had no noticeable effect on the mountain of blue-white light, but Kit was far more vulnerable and was silhouetted perfectly for them in front of all that brilliance. He felt rather than saw several bolts coming his way, their heat tearing through the rain laced coolness behind him, and didn’t care. He was too focused on the whip-whip-whip of the revolving bands, and the miniscule gaps in between them.

And then three things happened almost simultaneously: he jumped through a gap, the bolts smashed into the portal behind him and were absorbed, and Gillian turned to face him, her eyes burning with blue fire.

Kit had an instant to notice Morgan’s body, appearing unconscious and breathing rapidly, on the ground behind Gillian, before the staff hit him, sending him staggering.

He almost fell back into the vortex, and came close enough to feel its power clutching at him, like a thousand tiny, fiery hands. But he tore away and grabbed the staff, only to have it burn his palms almost to the bone. He jerked them back and Gillian laughed, only it wasn’t Gillian was it?

Her face changed as he watched, a dozen expressions passing over it in quick succession, to the point that it was almost grotesque. Or perhaps that was the flames flickering over her, warring with the bluish-gray light from the portal. The firelight lit her expression in a reddish haze as the portal circled, so that the red-blue-red-blue-red-blue coloring switched sides constantly, confusing the eyes. And the mind.

Because it wasn’t just the light that was changing.

“Kit!” Gillian gasped, and for an instant, she was back, the person he knew, the woman he loved. But her eyes were wide and terrified. “Kit, she’s so strong, and she’s using everything she has. And the staff can’t help me, as we’re in the same body now! I can’t—”

The face changed again, a sly expression coming over it, and he could do nothing, nothing! He wanted to put a fist through it, but it was Gillian’s face. And when he grabbed the body on the ground, Morgan’s discarded body, and looked up, the spirit inside of Gillian merely laughed. “Kill it,” she taunted. “And I’ll keep your lady’s form when I’m done! I’m starting to be comfortable here.”

She spread her arms to the skies, the staff in hand—