Dougal stayed put, pulling futilely at the vines that refused to let Graham loose.

“Help them,” Graham said, keeping his voice firm but gentle. “If Misty’s right, then she’ll get me free. Go on. She needs you.”

Dougal shook his head, still tugging. As a cub, when he’d been lost in his own fear and misery, Dougal would fix on a task and not be able to stop. Graham, the best he could, put his hand on Dougal’s arm.

“I need you to take care of her for me,” he said. “If something happens to Misty . . . I might as well die here.”

Dougal looked up at him, meeting Graham’s gaze for a fleeting moment. “You really are going to mate with her?”

“I am. Definitely.”

“Good.” Dougal gave Graham a nod, seeming to take heart from Graham’s statement. He finally let go of the vines and leveraged himself to his feet, then with a final look at Graham, walked away to find Misty.

“Now help me put them in a pile,” Misty said to the cubs. “Good. You’ve found so many, both of you. Let’s see. One missing. Hyacinth.” She looked around. “I’ll get it.”

Graham felt his compulsion spell kick in as Misty went toward the purple plants, a spring in her step. He knew, deep in his burning blood, that Oison was coming.

He rose as far as he could in the tangling vines. Dizziness smacked him, along with his Collar’s shocks. “Misty!”

The earth groaned again. Dirt rained from above, more than before. Maybe this cave was about to give, burying them all.

As Misty reached for the lavender flowers rising from leggy stalks, Oison appeared right next to her. He raised his sword and brought it down sharply toward her neck.

Graham bellowed and fought the vines. Matt launched himself at Oison, shifting to wolf cub as he went. As the sword came down, he latched himself on to Oison’s arm, foiling his aim. Kyle, also wolf now, slammed into Misty, making her sidestep. She lost hold of the hyacinths and fell, and Oison’s sword swished over her, missing.

Oison, silent with rage, plucked Matt from his arm and threw him across the cave. Matt landed heavily on his back, cried out in a pathetic whimper, and went still. Kyle, yipping, ran to him.

Oison raised his sword again, but this time, Misty scrambled out of the way. Dougal was there, reaching for Oison. His hands went out as Oison swung, catching the blade. Dougal screamed as the Fae-spelled sword cut his skin. His Collar went off, snapping and sparking, Dougal continuing to scream.

Misty lunged for the purple plants again, grabbing a handful. She raced to her pile of petals in the middle of the cave, threw the hyacinths down, and lifted her book.

Oison shoved Dougal from him. Dougal fell, moving in pain, his Collar continuing to spark. Oison headed for Misty, who was walking around and around her clump of flowers.

“By east and west, by north and south,” Misty read in a loud voice. “By wind and water, fire and earth. By the Goddess and moonlight, by the God and sunlight—I command you to do my will.”

Oison was almost upon her, but Misty kept walking. She lifted the book. “I command you to do my will!”

The petals swirled with her passing, rising a little, then moved faster. Faster still. A vortex of them rushed around her, encasing Misty in its tornado.

The vortex of petals reached all the way to the ceiling. Then they exploded, bursting over the entire cave, raining down like colorful snowflakes. They carpeted the ground, spilling over the vines, the black obsidian, Oison, the fallen Dougal, Matt, and Kyle.

As soon as the petals started to fall, Misty sprinted back to Graham. “Let him go!” she yelled at the vines.

They shivered, leaves and flowers shaking. Then they withdrew, unwinding from Graham and releasing him.

Misty stared, her mouth open. “It worked!” She shouted in delight. “I can’t believe it—it actually worked! I’m going to give Ben a big fat kiss when I see him again.”

“The hell you will.” Graham tried to pull himself up, but he fell again, weak and exhausted.

But Oison was coming. The Fae kicked aside vines and raised his sword again, swinging it hard at Misty.

Graham caught Oison’s wrist, and the blade swung and met Graham’s thick upper arm. Snarling, Graham let it cut him to the bone as he twisted Oison away from Misty, Graham’s Collar sparking hard. He tried to change to his between-beast as he fought, his strongest form, but Graham found he couldn’t shift at all. The sword, and his shocking Collar, combined to take the last of his strength.

Oison ripped himself from Graham’s bloody grasp, and Graham fell to his knees.

Misty screamed at the plants, and pointed at Oison. “Take him, take him!”

The plants moved sinuously toward Oison, the vines that had held Graham prisoner now seeking the Fae. But too slowly. Oison spun out of their way, his black eyes filled with rage, and brought his sword down on them. The vines he severed shuddered, then turned brown and crumpled away.

Oison went for the source of his frustration—Misty. Across the cave, Dougal tried to rise, tried to help. Graham forced himself to his feet, dizzy and dying. But he’d stop the bastard from hurting Misty. No matter what.

The cave shook again, the earth emitting another groan. Rock and sand poured from the ceiling, hitting the flowers and obsidian, the Shifters and Misty, Oison. Dust rose to coat the air. Graham heard Oison cursing, which told Graham the tremors weren’t of Oison’s making.

The sheet of ice that held Reid cracked with the sound of a gunshot. Graham turned to it as the ice fell away in huge chunks, not so much exploding as pushing outward and shattering on the cave floor.