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“It’s not one of your dogs ,” Wesley said through clenched teeth. “I don’t know how to call it back even if I wished to.”

Alfred pressed harder, forcing Wesley’s chin up with the gun. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Who’s lying?” Wesley met Alfred’s eyes without flinching. “I can’t control Sebastian’s magic. And I don’t have a drop of my own magic in me. You’ll gain nothing from my death.”

“Not nothing ,” Alfred said. “I can at least have the H6 back—”

“Let him go.”

Sebastian’s voice cut through the crypt, tight with controlled rage.

Wesley took a measured breath, carefully boxing his emotions to look at later, as his gaze went to the end of the crypt. And there was Sebastian, panting hard, sweaty hair sticking up wildly and mud on his flushed face as he stood beneath a crumbling arch.

“I don’t think I will,” Alfred said menacingly, his gun still digging into Wesley. “Hands up, Don Sebastian—or should I say, Senor de Leon ?”

Sebastian grudgingly raised his hands as his eyes darted over Wesley like he was assessing for injuries. Then his gaze flicked to the other side of the room, where Louis had slid down on his sarcophagus, his eyes glassier. A furrow appeared between Sebastian’s eyebrows. “Lord Valemount is hurt.”

“Louis isn’t actually Lord Valemount,” Wesley said. “The prick with the gun aimed at my brain is Alfred Fairfield, and he’s the real Duke of Valemount. Takes a bit of explaining, but I promise they’re both arseholes.”

The furrow hadn’t left Sebastian’s forehead. “Louis might be going into shock. He needs help.”

“You hear that?” Wesley said to Alfred. “Sebastian was an army medic; I daresay he knows shock when he sees it.”

“Lower your gun already,” Sebastian snapped, concerned gaze still on Louis, “so I can treat your brother.”

Alfred’s eyes had gone very narrow. But he didn’t remove the gun from under Wesley’s chin. “If Senor de Leon here came for you, I feel that he might be the sort of chap to bargain, don’t you? His life for yours?”

Sebastian’s gaze darted back to Alfred. “You’re endangering your own brother—”

“Yes,” Alfred said, without concern, “but I daresay I’m endangering Lord Fine more.”

Sebastian set his jaw. A moment later, Wesley recognized his own revolver, now in Sebastian’s hand and aimed at Alfred. “You’re not the only one who’s armed,” Sebastian said.

Alfred laughed. “Oh please,” he said derisively. “You couldn’t bear to hurt a damn fox. Your hands are shaking like a coward’s now; you’re not going to shoot me.”

Wesley saw Sebastian’s chest rise and fall with a hard breath. “Your gun—in the grip,” Sebastian said, his gaze on Alfred’s weapon. “I know what that medallion is. It belonged to the original Duke of Valemount—the relic he made for his tracking magic.” He frowned. “Why is it glowing?”

Oh no.

Wesley could see Alfred come to the realization at the exact same moment. “Sebastian, get down ,” Wesley barked. “Your magic is here and he wants to destroy it—”

Alfred jammed the revolver up under Wesley’s chin, and Wesley felt, more than heard, Alfred’s finger pulling the trigger—

“No!”

Sebastian’s shout echoed around the crypt. And then Wesley’s limbs were suddenly hit with that wave of familiar magic, his entire body going heavy as lead.

Alfred swore like he’d touched fire, the revolver clattering to the stone floor and going off again in another ear-splitting blast. Wesley winced, body flinching involuntarily as Sebastian staggered into the arch with his hands over his ears.

Then Alfred was lunging for Sebastian. Sebastian put up his hands but Alfred was bigger, slamming him into the crypt wall so hard that Wesley’s revolver flew out of Sebastian’s hand.

“What did you do?” Alfred demanded.

Sebastian’s shoulders were heaving, his cheeks flushed with color. “Magic,” he said, a look of wonder in his very wide eyes.

Alfred’s nostrils flared.

“ My magic,” Sebastian said, raising his chin, still breathing hard. “Enervation. It’s trying to weaken the medallion relic. I don’t know if we’ll win, but my magic will stop you from shooting until you’ve run out of bullets.”

“Fucking paranormals.” Alfred shoved him again, knocking Sebastian’s head against the stone wall and then jamming his forearm up against Sebastian’s throat.

“Valemount.” Wesley yanked at his cuff again and felt metal bite into his wrist. “If you don’t get your fucking hands off him—”

Somewhere above their heads was the sudden pounding of feet and shouts in familiar voices.

“Don Sebastian!”

“Wesley!”

Alfred pressed his forearm harder into Sebastian’s neck. “Who the hell is that?”

“I didn’t come alone,” Sebastian said hoarsely, through a clenched jaw.

Alfred bared his teeth.

“Lord Fine!”

“Sebastian!”

“You can kill me if you want,” Sebastian said, his voice strained, maybe from the pressure on his throat, “but my friends will stop you before you hurt anyone else.”

Alfred abruptly shoved Sebastian to the side, straight into another sarcophagus. He grabbed Sebastian’s revolver from the floor and sprinted away, under the arch and into the darkness Sebastian had come from.

“Shit.” These bloody chains. Wesley yanked uselessly at them again. “Sebastian. Are you all right?”

“I’m all right.” Sebastian was stumbling across the stones, in a crawl on hands and knees. “Are you—”

“I’m copa-fucking-cetic,” Wesley snapped. “Never mind me. Is Louis alive?”

Sebastian was already at Louis’s side. He’d slid off the sarcophagus at some point during the fight, sprawled now on the crypt stones, his skin wet with sweat and his eyes glassy.

“I have not forgiven you for shooting at Wesley,” Sebastian said, low and tight, “but I’m not going to let you die.

Can you lie on your back? If we can elevate your legs and put more pressure on this wound—”

“You have more mercy for me than my own damn brother.” Louis’s voice was a harsh croak. “I’ll live. It’s Alfred you need to stop.”

One hand was still clutched against his bloody shoulder, but with the other he reached into the red hunting coat and pulled out a small key.

“Here.” He held it weakly toward Sebastian with a trembling hand.

“For Fine,” he said, as Sebastian took the key and scrambled up to his feet.

“But you must go after Alfred. There’s no time. ”

“Sebastian, wait,” Wesley said sharply, as Sebastian bent over him and reached for the handcuffed wrists in the small of his back. “It could be a trap—”

“No trap,” Louis said. “I have pretended to be the Duke of Valemount for two years, have done everything Alfred asked for in his revenge. Now he thinks he can throw me to the wolves to save himself, but he is mistaken.”

He addressed Sebastian again. “Alfred is a coward; if he believes himself outnumbered, he’ll head for his cars and flee. But he won’t stop hunting for de Leon magic to kill for the cuff relic,” he added. “Whether that’s you or your family.”

Wesley heard Sebastian swallow.

Voices came again from overhead.

“Sebastian? Wesley?”

“We’re coming!”

“You want the third tunnel on your left: follow it straight to the garage,” Louis said to Sebastian. “And take my gun. The medallion will stay lit for your magic and give you light.”

There was a soft snick, and then Wesley’s arms were finally free. “Thank Christ,” he said, shaking his arms out. “Sebastian—”

“Here.” Sebastian pressed the handcuff key into Wesley’s hand. “It’s just your ankles now. I assume a dangerous rogue like yourself can handle it from here.”

“You did not just say that.” Wesley tried to sit up, but his ankles jerked at the chains. “Sebastian, wait for me—”

“You heard him.” Sebastian was scooping Louis’s revolver off the stones. “If he gets away, he might go after my family. There’s no time.”

“Sebastian,” Wesley said warningly, “you are exactly what Valemount needs to unlock that relic, don’t you dare go alone—”

But Sebastian had already disappeared, his footsteps echoing into the distance.

* * *

The medallion gave off just enough light to see by as Sebastian sprinted down the tunnel, his heart pounding, every inch of him buzzing like he’d drunk twenty coffees, or like a stampede of horses storming his veins.

He didn’t have time to be grateful or welcome the wild horses back; he had to hope he could somehow catch and stop Alfred.

He kept his eye on the left wall, passing first one, then two, and then finally turning down the third tunnel on the left, as Louis had said.

He pushed himself, gravel and stones clacking against each other under his feet as he ran under what he’d guess were the gardens and toward the kennels, stables, and garage.

Finally, the tunnel began to slant upward, until he finally emerged in the tight confines of a closet. He pushed at the wall in front of him and it opened, revealing a small shed full of shelves. He burst out of the shed and found himself just beyond the kennels.

A flurry of barks and howls started up. Sebastian didn’t stop for the dogs, heading straight for the garage.

And then, up ahead, he heard the sound of a powerful engine starting up.

He sprinted into the open door of the garage just in time to see Alfred climb into the running H6. “Get out of the car!”

And Sebastian’s magic leapt from him, sweeping out through the garage, ready to flatten everything in its path like the rushing tide.

Except Alfred only slammed the car door. “Give up,” he snapped. “It makes no difference if you’re a paranormal; my curse makes all magic useless against me.”

Because Sebastian finally had magic again, but he couldn’t stop Alfred from driving. He brought Louis’s revolver up, trying to keep it steady. “I don’t need magic to shoot.”

His voice came out with a waver. Alfred scoffed. “I’ll just as happily kill you like this,” he said, as he revved the engine.

Then he hit the gas, and the H6 came barreling straight out of the garage. Sebastian threw himself off the drive and into the grass, feeling the rush of wind as the H6 flew by.

Sebastian rolled onto his back and brought the revolver up, tightening his fingers on the trigger.

Wesley’s voice whispered in his head, a memory from a ship’s deck in the middle of the ocean. Square your shoulders. Focus on where you want the bullet to go.

Sebastian took a breath. And then he fired.

The bullet went true, exactly where he wanted it—

Right into the left rear tire of the H6.

There was a loud squealing scrape as the H6 veered to the side. Sebastian fired another shot, aiming for the other tire. This time the bullet went wide, but the H6 was already careering off the drive and across the moor as Alfred struggled to keep control.

Sebastian ran after the car, gun at his side.

The H6 finally spun to a stop, but Alfred was climbing out. “You shit.” He had Wesley’s revolver in hand and was coming straight for Sebastian. “I see you’re simply determined to die.”

Sebastian tried to bring the gun up, but Alfred sent him reeling with a vicious shove that sent the gun careening off into the moor.

Sebastian tried to dodge the next blow, but the moor was slippery with mud.

As he stumbled, Alfred kicked at Sebastian’s leg, which crumpled under him so that he hit the ground in a painful heap.

Alfred stepped over him, Wesley’s revolver in his hand.

“A quick death is more than you deserve.” On Alfred’s wrist, the golden cuff flashed bright in the gray light.

“But at least I can use your death to unlock this relic. And then I’ll have all the time I want to curse your paranormal friends and family. Perhaps I’ll even curse Lord Fine.”

Alfred brought the gun up. “I’m sure your friends are still coming for you. But they’re going to be too late. Too bad you didn’t shoot me when you had the chance—”

A crack rang out, something zipping between Sebastian and Alfred faster than an angry bee.

Sebastian’s eyes widened. Alfred touched the brim of his hat, his finger slipping into the new hole exactly the size of a bullet.

Wesley’s voice came from a distance. “Back away from Sebastian.”

Sebastian jerked his head toward the sound. Wesley was by the kennel, a new revolver in his hand and aimed directly at Alfred. Behind him, Arthur and Rory were also hurrying across the moor toward them.

“Maybe he won’t shoot but I assure you I will,” Wesley said darkly. “Gun on the ground. Hands in the air. This is your only warning.”

Sebastian held his breath as Alfred’s gaze darted from Wesley, to Arthur, to Rory, and then back to Sebastian. And then, finally, after a long moment, Alfred raised his hands and stepped back.

Sebastian’s breath left him in a rush of relief. A moment later, Arthur and Rory were grabbing Alfred as Sebastian sat up, just as Wesley came to him.

“Hey,” Sebastian said adoringly, with a soft smile.

“Don’t try to be cute. You’re in so much trouble.” Wesley bent down and stuck out his hand to Sebastian. “I told you to wait for me.”

“If I’d waited, Valemount would be halfway to the village by now,” Sebastian pointed out, as he let Wesley pull him to his feet. “And you got kidnapped when you were supposed to stay in your room with the door locked.”

“You’re adorable, thinking logic could work on me right now.” Despite his words, Wesley’s fingers were gentle as he brushed some of the mud off Sebastian’s face. “Did you shoot the H6’s tire out?”

Sebastian smiled, a little sheepish. “I had a good teacher.” He squeezed Wesley’s hand. “Are you okay? What happened in the chapel—where did you get another gun—”

“The gun is Geoffrey’s,” Wesley said. “The others appeared just as I got my legs free. Arthur and Rory did find Mr. Hyde’s grave in the graveyard; it seems Alfred and Louis Fairfield used Hyde’s death to bind the medallion relic to Louis.

The three of us ran across the moor while Geoffrey and Nora stayed behind to get Louis back to the manor and send for a doctor.

As for what happened in the chapel before all of that, well… ”

He reached for Sebastian’s other hand and turned it over.

Sebastian’s eyes widened; on the inside of his wrist, the tattoo was a brilliant swirl of color that seemed to pulse with life.

And now the rush of emotion couldn’t be held at bay, seeing the bright glow of his magic in his eyes, feeling the familiar stampede rushing in his veins. His magic was really back.

Wesley brushed his thumb over the tattoo, and Sebastian caught his breath, the touch ricocheting across every inch of his body.

“Would you look at that,” Wesley said, with a tiny smile. “Maybe sometimes hope does win.”