Sundown.

“That’s it,” I said a second later. “Sun’s down. It’s on.”

“What if you’re too late?” Sarissa asked. “What if they’re starting right now?”

“Then we’re wasting time talking about it,” Molly said. “Let’s get to the boat.” She beckoned Mac and Sarissa. “This way, please.”

I glanced at Mouse and jerked my chin toward Molly. He heaved himself up and went after her, walking just behind our two unknown quantities.

Karrin had opened a storage compartment on her Harley. She shrugged out of her jacket, and then slipped into a tactical harness and clicked it shut around her. She added a number of nylon pouches to it, then took out a gym bag and dropped heavy objects in before shutting the compartment and locking it. She looked up at me and nodded. “All set?”

“I miss my gear,” I said. “P90 in there?”

“His name is George,” Karrin said. “You want my backup gun?”

“Nah, I’ve already got the finest killing technology 1866 had to offer on the boat. Glad I didn’t name it George. How embarrassing would that have been?”

“George isn’t insecure,” she said.

“What about, ah . . . ?”

“The Swords?”

“The Swords.”

“No,” Karrin said.

“Why not?”

She frowned and then shook her head. “This . . . isn’t their fight.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said.

“I’ve wielded one,” she said. “And it makes perfect sense to me. To use them tonight would be to make them vulnerable. No.”

“But—” I began.

“Harry,” Karrin said. “Remember the last time the Swords went to the island? When their actual adversaries were there? Remember how that turned out?”

My best friend, Molly’s dad, had been shot up like a Tennessee speed limit sign. The Swords had a purpose, and as long as they kept to it, they were invulnerable, and the men and women who wielded them were avenging angels. But if they went off mission, bad things tended to happen.

“Trust me,” Karrin said quietly. “I know it doesn’t make sense. Sometimes faith is like that. This isn’t their fight. It’s ours.”

I growled. “Fine. But tell the Almighty that He’s missing His chance to get in on the ground floor of something big.”

Murphy punched my chest, but gently, and smiled when she did it. The two of us turned toward the dock and began to follow Molly and the others. I was just about to step out onto the dock when I heard something. I stopped in my tracks and turned.

It started low and distant, a musical cry from somewhere far away. It hung in the darkening air for a moment like some carrion bird over dying prey, and then slowly faded.

The wind started picking up.

Again the tone sounded, nearer, and the hairs on my arms stood straight up. Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain, a fitful drizzle most of the day, began to fall in chilly earnest.

And again the hunting horn sounded.

My heart started revving up, and I swallowed. Footsteps approached, and then Thomas was standing beside me, staring out the same way I was. Without speaking, he passed me the Winchester rifle and the ammunition belt.

“Is it . . . ?” I asked him.

His voice was rough. “Yeah.”

“Dammit. How soon?”

“Soon. Coming right through the heart of downtown.”

“Fuck,” I said.

Karrin held both hands up. “Wait, wait, the both of you. What the hell is happening?”

“The Wild Hunt is coming,” I said, my throat dry. “Um . . . I sort of pissed off the Erlking a while back. He’s not the kind of person to forget that.”

“The king of earls?” Karrin asked. “Now who isn’t making sense?”

“He’s a powerful lord of Faerie,” Thomas explained. “He’s one of the leaders of the Wild Hunt. When the Hunt comes to the real world, it starts hunting prey and it doesn’t stop. You can join it, you can hide from it, or you can die.”

“Wait,” Karrin said. “Harry—they’re hunting you?”

My heart continued to beat faster, pumping blood to my muscles, keying my body to run, run, run. It was hard to think past that and answer her question. “Uh, yeah. I can . . . I think I can feel them coming.” I looked at Thomas. “Water?”

“They’ll run over it like it was solid ground.”

“How do you know that?” Karrin asked.

“I joined,” Thomas said. “Harry, Justine.”

I clenched my hands into fists on the heavy rifle. “Get on the boat and go.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” I said. “Raith and Marcone have the other two sites covered, but we are the only ones left to get to Demonreach. If we blow it there, and the ritual goes off, we’re all screwed. If I go with you, the Hunt follows me and then goes after whoever is close. We’ll never pull off an assault with them on our heels.”

My brother ground his teeth and shook his head.

“Let’s go, Harry,” Karrin said. “If they follow us out over the lake, we’ll take them on.”

“You can’t take them on,” I said quietly. “The Hunt isn’t a monster you can shoot. It’s not some creature you can wrestle with, or some kind of mercenary you can buy off. It’s a force of nature, red in tooth and claw. It kills. That’s what it does.”

“But—” Karrin began.

“He’s right,” Thomas said, his voice rough. “Dammit. He’s right.”

“It’s chess,” I said. “We’ve been checked, with that ritual on the island. We have no choice but to try to stop it with everything we’ve got. If that means sacrificing a piece, that’s how it has to be.”

I put a hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Go. Get it done.”

He put his cold, strong hand over mine for a second. Then he turned and ran for the boat.

Karrin stared up at me for a second, the rain plastering her hair down. Her face was twisted with agony. “Harry, please.” She swallowed. “I can’t leave you alone. Not twice.”

“There are eight million people in this city. And if we don’t shut the ritual down, those people will die.”

Karrin’s expression changed—from pain to shock, from shock to horror, and from horror to realization. She made a choking sound and ducked her head, her face turned away from me. Then she turned toward the boat.

I watched her for a second longer. Then I sprinted for the Munstermobile as the haunting cry of the Wild Hunt’s horn grew nearer. I jammed my key into the door lock and . . .

And it wouldn’t fit.

I tried it again. No joy. Half-panicked, I ran to each of the others, but every single one of the locks was out of commission. I was going to bust out a window, but I checked the car’s ignition through it first. It had been packed with what looked like chewing gum. The Munstermobile had . . .

Had been sabotaged. With gum and superglue. It was a trick I’d had Toot and company play on others more than once. And now what I had done unto others had been done unto me at the damnedest moment imaginable.