building. Grateful I had thought to wear jeans and a sturdy top, I shrugged on my leather jacket and followed them into the building.
The Whitemoor Nursing Home was a single-story building, sprawling three wings wide. Buttressed against the White Lodge Cemetery, the nursing home had that weathered feel that most homes for the elderly do. It was almost as though because their residents were fading, the walls and atmosphere around them shifted to match. Any beauty the home might have had was only a whisper—a memory long past.
The walls were painted two-toned, a pale rose on the top two-thirds of the walls, and the wainscoting was thyme green, but the colors hadn’t been refreshed in a long time. There were cracks here and there, with water damage on the ceiling.
I brought my attention back to the screams that filled the halls. Even from where we were at the entrance, we could see one of the vrykos gnawing on an older gentleman, who was groaning and trying to pull away.
Herne took one look and went in swinging, bringing his axe around to neatly cleave the top half of the vrykos away from its lower half. The torso fell, and the creature tried to pull itself back toward its prey using its hands, teeth still gnashing. Once again, Herne brought the axe down, cleaving the torso in half, splitting it directly down the center from the top of the skull. The two halves of the vrykos fell apart and I averted my eyes from the resulting splattered gore.
I motioned for Herne to go past me while I knelt to examine the victim. He was still breathing, but he was pale and clammy and had obviously gone into shock.
Glancing around for someone who could carry him to the medics, I saw a man running toward me. He was in a long brown leather duster, and his hair was the color of copper, swirling down his back. I didn’t recognize him, but maybe he was one of Kipa’s guards.
“Over here, we need to get this man out to the medics,” I called to him.
He stared at me for a moment, then with a grim smile, headed my way. I stood to meet him and as he neared me, I saw Kipa running up behind him, his axe held high.
“Ember, get away! That’s Gyell!” Kipa swung the axe as the man turned and right then I saw a blaze of light in the man’s eyes that told me he was no ordinary man. He lashed out with one hand and a whip formed, an orange bolt of energy that coiled out from his palm. He caught hold of Kipa’s axe with it, the tongue of fire coiling around the hilt, and yanked it out of the Wolf Lord’s hand.
Kipa let out a loud curse. He raced forward, six massive wolves appearing to flank his sides. They tumbled out of a cloud of mist and snow, and were hot on his heels as they charged toward the shadow dragon.
Gyell’s attention was on them, so I began to drag the old man out of the way, keeping my eyes on the dragon shifter at all times. At that moment, Viktor came running up.
“Herne said—”
“It’s Gyell!” I pointed toward the dragon. “Be careful!”
Gyell jerked around at the sound of my voice. Once again, he raced toward me, eyes flickering with an unearthly light. I stumbled back, trying to get out of his way. I knew that even with Brighid’s Flame, I couldn’t take him on. I didn’t have the strength. Kipa shouted something and lengthened his strides, but then the dragon was looming over me. He reached out to grab my wrist and I feinted right, then dropped to the left, trying to get out of the way.
Viktor broad-jumped over me, landing between me and the dragon, swinging his hammer as he landed. The hammer slammed into Gyell’s side and the dragon let out a roar. He was taller than Viktor, at least seven feet tall, and he shot out another whip of energy, this time coiling around Viktor’s arm. Viktor shouted as the energy constricted around his arm like a snake, and he dropped his hammer. Gyell yanked him close, grabbing hold of the half-ogre.
I had to help him. I brought Brighid’s Flame up, snarling as I slashed at Gyell’s back. But I missed, and I stumbled forward, unbalanced by the weight of my sword.
“Help him!” I turned to see Kipa closing in on the pair.
“I’m on