A hob fell out of the way, landing on the ground, trampled under the steps of the other monsters. Others lay behind Loch, crushed by the monsters straining to get at him. He pushed, struggling to make headway. It was no good. He just couldn’t push his way through the mass of maddened monsters.

  Just fifteen or so feet ahead, Theodore Kincaid was laughing at him, the sound echoing across the yard. Behind Theodore was the Presence, its arms outstretched, sleeves of the robe slipping down revealing the purple skin and alien hands.

  Just fifteen feet. So close but it could have been miles. The monsters couldn’t stand up to Loch, not individually, but it was their numbers. They formed a wall. As effective as any barrier.

  In time, he’d force his way through, but it would be too late to save the Clan.

  “Dad,” Harper yelled out, from behind him. “Fall back. We’ll clear the way.”

  Loch wanted to argue but had to trust Harper.

  He took a couple steps back, leaving the wedge of monsters, space appearing on either side. Harper appeared on his right, tonfas slashing out. Davis was on the left, leading with his glowing spear. Instead of pushing just straight ahead, they pushed to the sides, forcing those monsters off balance and out of the way. Weapons kept slashing, kept pushing monsters back. Trent and Brent appeared, their spears stabbing into monsters on the edges.

  There was a war cry from behind, causing Loch to turn. Brian Jefferson charged ahead, large hammer raised over his head.

  “BRADY!!,” he yelled, his voice carrying over everything, stopping all the fighting. “BRADY!!”

  The silent giant charged past Loch, the hammer swinging and clearing a path. Loch followed, taking the wedge again when Brian twisted to the side.

  It still wasn’t enough. Where were all these monsters coming from? The waves were endless. He could see so many more behind the Presence, just waiting to rush at them. They were looking weaker and weaker, missing limbs, covering in the marks of frostbite, bone thin. But there were so many of them.

  The ground started rumbling, coming from behind. Loch turned, seeing a large ink black rhino barreling his way. The horn was lowered, the creature coming closer.

  “Look out,” Loch yelled, diving out of the way.

  The rhino crashed into the mass of monsters, twisting its head side to side. Creatures were sent flying, some crushed underneath the weight of the rhino. Loch rushed in behind, followed by Brian on one side and Davis on the other. Harper appeared on top of the rhino, hand down on the body to stay steady. She rode it forward, leaping off and onto an ogre that had appeared from behind the Presence. Her tonfas slammed down into the monster’s neck, her momentum stumbling it back. She clambered onto the ogre’s head, leaping off into the monsters.

  Davis pushed to the side, cutting off more from filling in the gap the rhino had cleared. Brian’s hammer swung side-to-side, crushing monsters.

  THe rhino reached Theodore, the laugh gone, eyes wide in fear. The hand of the Presence stretched forward, pointing at the rhino. Loch could feel a change in the mental pressure emitted by the strange creature. It all came together, focusing on the rhino. The charge stopped, the ink that formed the rhino losing form, dripping to the ground where it disappeared.

  A scream sounded out from the wall, Loch knowing it was Piper. The noise spurred him on, the only thing between him and the Presence was Theodore. The man extended a hand toward Loch, eyes squinting in concentration.

  Loch could feel a brief jolt of pain flare in his mind, so quick, but gone just as quick. It didn’t even slow him down. Theodore’s eyes widened in shock, as he tried to send more mental force at Loch. It did no good, Loch was too focused. He wasn’t looking at Theodore but the monster beyond. The thing that had to die.

  He slammed into Theodore, using Bulwark to blast the man to the side. Onyx swung at the Presence, slicing through the strange shadows surrounding the creature but not connecting with anything solid.

  Loch stopped, staring up at the thing that seemed to float above him. He swung again, the axe not connecting. He jabbed forward, still not connecting.

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  “Illusion,” he growled, taking a step back and looking around for the real creature.

  It had to be there somewhere. But where?

  He could still feel the mental pressure. Forcing himself to calm down, Loch focused on that pressure. If he could feel it, could he trace it? The pressure came out in waves. He felt the wave push against him, working out where it was coming from.

  He turned, looking toward the wall and the school. Wasn’t that where Piper was?

  Loch saw it. Not the creature itself as it was somehow shrouded, but he could sense where it was. Instead of the thing’s Presence pushing against him, he pulled on it, finding where it was coming from. The creature was making its way toward the wall.

  Cursing, Loch started running in that direction.

  ***

  Harper landed on the ground, ducking beneath the swing of a monster. Davis’ spear sailed over her head, piercing the humanoid creature, driving it backwards. Harper kicked out, driving it further back and off the spear. The two spun, sensing something charging at them.

  Roger Lewis roared, swinging his sword at Harper, raising the shield to block Davis. Metal clashed on metal, Harper pushing up with her tonfa, the sword sliding down its length. She stepped back, moving around Davis who centered himself against Roger.

  Spinning around the other side, Harper stabbed straight ahead. The sword came down, knocking it to the side. Roger twisted, pushing Davis’ spear up while swinging at Harper.

  “Looks like your dad cut and run,” Roger said, voice filled with scorn, eyes insane. “I’ll have to settle for you little girl.”

  “Old man, you’re the one that better run,” Harper said, slicing a tonfa along Roger’s side.

  The man grunted in pain, but didn’t relent, pushing forward to use his greater size and strength against them. Davis stepped back, stumbling on a body laying on the ground, he fell to the ground. Roger sneered, backhanding Harper, pushing her to the side, raising his sword to stab down at Davis.

  Harper darted forward pushing Roger, the descending sword missing Davis’ heart and slicing along his side. Davis cried out, Roger cursing as he swung his shield at Harper, forcing her back. She twisted to the side, turning Roger, watching Davis trying to get up. His spear had fallen, his eyes searching for it.

  Something moved behind Davis, coming closer. It stumbled closer, the creature taking shape. Mike Turner, sword in hand, walked toward Davis. His eyes were dark, his expression grim, one hand grabbing at his head.

  “Davis,” Harper cried out.

  He didn’t hear her. Roger did, sneering and driving her back. He couldn’t see what it was, but knew it was one of his allies or something else hurting Davis, which was good enough for him.

  “Your boytoy is going to die, little girl,” he said, holding Harper back with his shield, raising his sword. “Worry about your…”

  Roger never finished the sentence, a sword piercing through his chest. He looked down at the bloody tip of the weapon, confused.

  “Who?,” he muttered, blood flowing out of his mouth.

  Roger turned, stumbling to the side, letting Harper see who had attacked him. Mike Turner stood a couple steps back, weaponless, Davis standing behind him. Mike looked down at his empty hand, looking confused. He looked up at Roger, eyes still confused.

  “You bastard…,” Roger growled, raising his sword, advancing on Mike.

  Harper didn’t let him.

  Her tonfa stabbed out, piercing Roger through the neck. The older man stopped, falling to the ground as she pulled the weapon out. He tried to stand, his sword clattering on to the ground, the shield thudded to the ground. Roger stood, taking one step and fell again. He didn’t get up.

  “Mike,” Harper said.

  Mike looked up at her, not seeming to recognize her.

  “The Voice,” he said. “I can still hear it.” He tapped at his head. “It wants me to attack everyone.” He looked down at his free hand, opening and closing it. “But I don’t want to. I don’t want to hear the Voice anymore.”

  Mike screamed in pain, clutching at his head, dropping to his knees. Davis followed, groaning in pain and grabbing at his head. Harper looked around, trying to figure out where the attacks were coming from.

  She cried out in pain as something slammed into her side, knocking her to the ground. She dropped her weapons, rolling around to turn and face her attacker.

  “You don’t deserve the glory of the Voice,” Theodore Kincaid said, long staff in hand. “None of you do.” He stared down at Harper. “Only I do.”