Will is poised like a hunting dog behind Merriman, all his senses flung wide. The icy jolt that lanced through the scar on his wrist has faded, and when Merriman moves again Will paces silently behind him, taut and fierce-eyed.

The fathomless, inhumanly ravenous hating that is the Dark presses against his mind, and all around is the sound of Raven's laughter, high and wild like the cawing of birds or the barking of dogs, far-off.