Like omens of disaster, the Hellraisers emerged from the shadows.

Here, then, was the biggest threat of all.

As Leo watched the men he once considered friends stride toward him, he understood how dangerous the Hellraisers truly were. He’d been one of their numbers, capable of anything.

All three men carried swords, and as they appeared out of the darkness, their faces wore similar expressions: hard, determined, pitiless. Even Edmund, the most affable of the Hellraisers, looked ready for violence. John appeared as though he wanted done with this pesky annoyance so he might return to more important matters. And Bram, with his cold eyes, his long dark coat flaring behind him, resembled the tough, merciless soldier he had been after returning from the brutality of war.

Leo gathered Anne close, sheltering her with his body. None of the Hellraisers would touch her. He would wet the cobblestones with their blood before he allowed any of them to hurt his wife.

Damn it, he hadn’t the time to reload his firearms, and he wasn’t trained to use a sword. Bare hands, then. He knew plenty of strategies for fighting against an armed enemy. Even enemies he once thought of as his brothers.

They faced one another in the middle of the street: Leo, Anne, Whit, Zora, and a flickering Livia standing against Bram, Edmund, and John. Yet despite the uneven numbers, it would be a fatal mistake to think the Hellraisers at a disadvantage. Leo had fought beside them enough to know the threat they presented now.

“Never believed you so weak,” Bram said on a growl.

“Not weakness, but strength,” countered Leo. “The same strength that’s in each of you.”

John snorted. “This isn’t the Exchange, Leo. You can’t wheedle your way into our favor.”

“Leo does not wheedle,” Anne said, rousing. Strength gained in her, and though she kept close, she stood upright on her own. “He is trying to save your cursed souls.”

Edmund started, as if suddenly becoming aware of her presence. “You ... know about everything? And yet you remain at your husband’s side?”

“Where else should she be?” rumbled Leo. Yet he knew that Anne’s continued presence next to him counted as one of the greatest marvels of his life—if not the greatest marvel. “It was she who finally managed to reclaim my soul.”

He turned slightly and pulled at one of the tears running along the back of his coat. The tear went all the way down, through his shirt, to his flesh beneath. Tugging on the slashed fabric, he revealed his shoulder.

Anne gave a small inhalation, Whit chuckled lowly, and Bram muttered a curse. For the skin on Leo’s back was unmarked. The images of flames were gone. He knew he would find the same on his calf.

“A soul is a very little thing.” John sounded unimpressed. “Compared to what we might have, the power we can wield, who requires a soul?”

“Even the greatest emperor has one,” Whit said. “Without it, he becomes nothing more than a tyrant.”

“I’m certain I’ve no soul to save,” countered Bram. “What I do have is pleasure in abundance, and that is my only necessity.”

“Bodily pleasure,” said Leo, “but what of your heart?”

John made another dismissive sound. “Marriage has transformed you into the veriest weakling.”

Gazing at Anne, he saw the ferocity in her face despite the exhaustion beneath her eyes, her torn and dirty gown. And her arm, around his waist. “It has made me far stronger than I could have ever dreamed.”

Her grip tightened, sending another pulse of energy through him.

Bram rolled his eyes. “Enough of this maudlin twaddle.” He raised his sword. “You have chosen your allegiance just in time to die.” Assured as an officer, he commanded, “Hellraisers, advance.”

Leo braced his feet wide, making himself ready. Whit brandished his saber, and the fiery whip reappeared in Zora’s hand. Anne, weary as he knew her to be, still prepared herself for battle, her chin tilted and hands upraised as she stood beside him.

Edmund’s gaze continued to move back and forth between Leo and Anne, and Whit and Zora. Leo saw what Edmund saw: men willing to fight and die for their women, and women just as ready to do the same for their men. A pained look crossed Edmund’s face.

Both John and Bram edged forward. But Edmund remained where he stood. “I ... I cannot.”

“Edmund,” snapped Bram over his shoulder. “This is no time for tender sentiment. Move. Now.”

Leo watched, warily amazed, as Edmund slowly lowered his sword. He wore an almost baffled expression. “No. This must stop.”

Clever as always, John said, “Do you want to lose Rosalind? For surely you will if these traitors have their way.”

Yet Edmund shook his head. “I never truly had Rosalind. Since I received my gift, she has not been the woman I wanted, the woman I loved. Merely an empty shell that looked like Rosalind.” He stared at Whit and Zora, and then Leo and Anne, his gaze hollow with longing. “I merely own a thing. But I do not have love. And I know ...” His voice thickened. “I know that the Rosalind I love would hate the life I’ve given her.”

“Edmund,” said Leo, but he did not know what he could tell his friend. If Leo were in Edmund’s place, if he had Anne but not Anne, missing the crucial essence of who she undeniably was ... Leo could not endure it.

“You mean to turn traitor, just like these two?” John snarled. “Take up arms against us?”

Carefully, as though releasing an adder, Edmund set his sword upon the ground. “I’ve no wish to fight you. All I seek is to relinquish my gift that I might set Rosalind free.”

Bram and John hissed in frustration and anger, but Leo felt the blossoming of true hope. With Edmund as an ally, surely they could defeat the Devil. He might wish to retire from the battle, but Leo knew that Edmund was too gallant to turn away from such an important fight. It might take a little while, yet he would come to their aid. In this war, they needed every ally, every advantage.

And Edmund was far too good a man to be damned. Of all the Hellraisers, he had been the one who preferred laughter to rowdiness, friendship over debauchery.

Edmund moved toward Leo. “I will need your guidance.”

“You have it.” Leo held out a hand.

“No,” growled Bram.

“He is our enemy,” John snarled. Swift as a viper, he lunged forward, sword upraised and aimed at Leo.

Leo moved to dodge the blow, but it never came. Instead, the tip of John’s blade protruded from Edmund’s chest. Edmund had leapt in front of John, blocking him from running Leo through. And had taken the sword strike intended for Leo.

Anne gasped in horror, and flung out her hands. A blast of wind tossed John backward. Both Leo and Whit ran forward. But they were too late. Edmund stumbled for a step and sank to his knees. John got to his feet, still holding his sword. Blood streaked the metal, and he gazed at it dispassionately.

Gently, Leo lowered Edmund to the ground, careful to support his head. Edmund’s wig slid off, revealing his closely shorn hair. Leo tore off his coat and wadded it up to press against the wound, but blood spilled from Edmund’s chest and back, coming up in pulses as his heart beat out his life. Already, Edmund turned ashen, his eyes glassy.

“Help him,” Leo shouted to Livia. Out of all of them, the ghost possessed the most power.

Yet Livia only shook her head as she hovered near. “Were my strength not so diminished, even then I could do nothing. I’ve no authority over life and death.”

“He’s not dying,” Whit insisted.

“And you ... call yourself a ... gambler,” gasped Edmund. “Terrible at ... bluffing.”

“I’ll fetch a surgeon.” Leo started to rise, but Edmund gripped his hand with surprising strength.

“Give me this ... one favor.”

“Anything.”

Edmund fumbled weakly to pull his shirt up from his breeches. Helping him, Leo tugged on the fabric when his friend’s strength failed.