“Admirable, yes,” hissed the geminus, getting to its feet, “yet futile. Like your friends downstairs, she will be slaughtered, and you shall spend eternity reliving her last agonizing moments. Over and over again.”

Rage, brilliant as an inferno, tore through Leo. He slammed his fist into the geminus’s sneering face. The creature spat blood, then struck back.

As Leo and the geminus were locked in combat, he heard Anne holding back the onslaught of demons, throwing the monsters into the walls, thrashing them with her power. Exhausted and battered as he was, his whole body aching, he drew strength from hearing her fight. Though they were each engaged in their own battles, he felt their unity of purpose, of heart, and felt a surge of power course through him.

Staggering to his feet, he hauled the geminus to standing and rained punches upon it. The creature tried to fight back, but Leo backed it into a corner. Desperate, furious, the geminus struck out with its claws. Yet it weakened.

The geminus suddenly launched itself at Leo. He acted instinctively, grabbing hold of its lapels. He swung its head toward the marble mantel. A wet crunch sounded as its head collided with the stone. Blood coated the marble, a dark smear dotted with clumps of hair, and the geminus fell to the carpet.

Leo strode over to where the creature lay on its back. It stared up lifelessly, its gaze already glazed and vacant. Taking up his musket, Leo placed the muzzle directly between its eyes and pulled the trigger. The smell of blood, brains, and gunpowder filled the room.

He did not waste time standing over the body. In two strides, he was beside Anne, still holding back the demons.

She glanced from him to the geminus. Though she blanched at the grisly sight, a small, victorious smile curved her mouth.

“An ungentlemanly fight,” she said.

“I’m no gentleman.” He swung his musket around, holding it like a club.

“Oh, I know that very well.”

The remaining demons, seeing the geminus’s inert body, turned and fled. Yet sounds of combat continued to rise up the stairs. The battle was far from over.

He walked to Anne, and held out his hand. When she took it, sliding her palm against his, he felt a hot, purifying rightness.

Together, they headed downstairs to join the fight.

Chaos reigned at the foot of the stairs. Aside from the riot at the Drury Lane Theatre, Anne had never seen such destruction. The few pieces of furniture lay in splinters. The chandelier hung crookedly, swaying like a glittering pendulum above the melee. Demon bodies were everywhere, sprawled across the marble floor or slumped against the walls.

In the midst of this stood Lord Whitney and Zora, standing back-to-back. Hard to believe that Lord Whitney had ever been one of the idle elite, wasting time and money at the gaming tables, for now he fought like a born warrior, his fire-wreathed sword hacking down three demons.

Zora, too, made an awe-inspiring sight as she snapped her flaming whip, felling two creatures and pushing back two more who sought to advance. Distant crashes in the front chambers of the house revealed Livia locked in combat with more demons.

“This cannot be Bloomsbury,” Anne murmured as she and Leo stood at the top of the stairs.

He quickly readied his pistols and musket, tamping down the powder and loading the bullets. “It’s the first circle of Hell.”

And so it looked. Two humans fought at the center of a dozen writhing, snarling demons, with a specter providing reinforcement.

Leo brought his musket up to his shoulder, took aim, then fired. A demon attacking Zora fell as the bullet shattered its chest. The Gypsy woman looked up and offered a nod of thanks.

“The geminus,” she called up, “is it dead?”

Lord Whitney glanced toward Leo, then answered before Leo could. “Aye. I suffered the same wounds sending my geminus back to Hell.”

Anne and Leo hurried down the stairs. Leo used his pistols to take down two more demons, then wielded his musket like a club, knocking the monsters down with brutal efficiency.

“Most of the demons have fled,” Lord Whitney shouted above the din. “These are the holdouts.”

“They’ll regret their obstinacy,” growled Leo.

Anne guided her magic, throwing demons into the walls. The creatures twitched, then fell, landing in broken heaps. She directed gusts of wind to take up tongues of flame from Zora’s whip and set several of the demons alight. Their screams echoed in the vaulted room as their bodies burned, filling the air with noise and the stench of charred flesh.

And then, suddenly, the humans outnumbered the demons. Only two monsters still lived. With terrified screams, the demons clambered toward the door, anxious for escape. Anne and the others found themselves standing in the middle of the entryway, panting and bloodied, but alive. Leo’s coat was torn, revealing angry gouges across his body, he had a cut across his cheek, and crimson dripped down his hand to mingle with the black pools of demon gore. Yet he stood tall amidst the destruction.

“The final retreat,” Zora said, staring at the open, empty doorway.

“A wise decision.” Leo glanced at the walls.

Anne gasped. Fire crawled up the walls in a blazing webwork, catching on draperies. The banister became a line of flame leading up to the first floor.

Zora’s whip of fire immediately disappeared. “Apologies.”

Yet Leo merely shook his head. “Couldn’t be helped. But we need to get out. Now.”

Smoke filled the entryway, and Anne coughed as it saturated her lungs. She took Leo’s offered hand, and together they ran from the house. Lord Whitney and Zora followed, with Livia meeting them on the sidewalk outside. The street glowed in the lurid illumination. Soon, the fire inside the house would find its way outside.

Anne turned to Livia. “We cannot let the house burn, or it will spread to the other homes.”

“Air will merely encourage the fire to burn,” the specter answered.

“I’ve another idea.” One she was not certain would work, but she hoped the natural science lecture she had attended long ago had been accurate.

Closing her eyes, Anne focused all her energy on the power within her. She held out her hands, calling to the air. She sought not to create air, but to draw it into herself. This was a new challenge, one beyond anything she had attempted before. It took every ounce of her will, fighting to drag the air out of Leo’s house. Her teeth clenched with the effort and sweat dampened her clothing as she struggled.

She cracked open one eye. Her heart leapt to see the flames within diminish. Yet it took far more strength to smother the fire than she knew she possessed. Abruptly, the burden lessened. Anne glanced over to see Livia also working to draw out the air. The ghost’s head was thrown back, and her image flickered, taxed almost beyond endurance.

With a final, hard pull, Anne and Livia stifled the fire. The last tongue of flame guttered, then went out.

Anne sank to her knees. She felt herself carefully pulled to her feet, and she leaned back into Leo’s firm, strong body, weary beyond imagining.

He murmured her name, lips pressed against the crown of her head. She felt utterly spent, and he formed a solid wall behind her, around her. She fought against a wave of exhaustion, released in the aftermath of battle. It was over. Finally.

Leo tensed. She felt his every muscle contract into readiness. “Hell,” he growled, looking off into the darkness.

She turned her head to see what set him on edge. Her own body stiffened when she beheld the new threat.

Three silhouettes. One long and lanky. Another shorter, but ready for combat. And the third, tall and broad-shouldered, with the distinct posture of a battle-hardened warrior.