Tyr the Werewolf remembered the girl's face. Jane wasn't the only one who had never forgotten their ambush at the clothing store. He, too, had dwelled on the "prey" who had slipped away.
He had spent two days waiting in the warehouse behind the store, certain he would get to see the despair on her face after she and her mother were violated. Who could have imagined that man had a Demigod's powers at his disposal? Not only had he let their "prey" escape, he had also disrupted Lord Steve's plan and allowed Sharron and Maric to get away...
Afterward, Tyr had been severely punished by Lord Steve and even Your Excellency Zatwen. How could he possibly forget?
But how long had it been? Barely more than five months. Could that frail little girl who had done nothing but cry now stand against Lord Steve?
And from the looks of it, Lord Steve had fallen into her trap and was losing?
No! Impossible! Even sacrificing her soul to an evil god couldn't have made her that powerful so quickly!
After raging inwardly, Tyr suddenly realized that Jane had made no further move from the rooftop. She merely watched him coldly.
Nor had the cold hands and tendrils wrapped around his ankles and knees tightened their grip. They seemed intent only on keeping him in place.
Even with a Werewolf's limited wits, Tyr understood. The girl on the roof wasn't sparing him. She couldn't kill him right now!
She was still battling Lord Steve inside Hell Admiral Ludwell! The two were locked in a struggle in the mystical realm!
I need to do something to tip the balance!
Tyr struggled with all his might to tear free of the black tendrils reaching up from the ground. But the Dead Spirit Jane