Sebastian

turning his head to look at the two men splashing across the creek. He swallowed his fear and gathered what was left of his courage.
    "They'll do," he said when Addison and Henley reached him.
    He sheathed his sword and took the cut sapling from Addison. His heart pounded as he used the wood to push Faran's legs apart and gingerly push the spider's body in the space between. Then he handed the sapling back to Addison, drew his sword, and hacked at the spider's abdomen.
    The spider didn't move, didn't twitch.
    Encouraged, he shifted position to slice the spider's body, working carefully, always aware that a careless move with the sword could harm his own man.
    Finally he stepped back and nodded at Henley, who grabbed Faran under the arms and dragged the man away from the remains. The head, part of the torso, and four legs remained attached to the guard.
    Addison studied him. "It's a hard thing, Cap'n, to know the bad things in the world are close enough to touch us. I reckon we've got some evil days ahead of us."
    Dalton rubbed his sleeve over his face, wiping off sweat. "I know." Using the bottom of his jacket, he wiped off his sword, then sheathed it. "Come on; let's make that litter."

    *
    Sebastian watched everyone who had gathered at his command—the bull demons, who had dug the deep fire pit; Hastings and Mr. Finch, who covered the bottom of the pit with kindling; two other residents, who gingerly lifted the blanket-wrapped bundle and lowered it into the pit; Philo, who opened a jar of lamp oil and poured it over the blanket.
    He watched everyone—and wondered if the people he knew were behind those familiar faces.
    When Philo stepped back, Sebastian held out his hand. He didn't see who handed him the torch. It didn't matter. He walked up to the pit, stared at the bundle for a long moment, then dropped the torch onto the oil-soaked blanket.
    Despite his efforts to keep the creature covered up, a few of them had seen its face, frozen by death in the process of change. No one had asked how the thing had died—but all of them were acting wary around him.
    They had more reasons than they knew to be wary.
    "Daylight," Philo said as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. "I didn't know there was a demon that could change shape and disguise itself as human."
    You've known , Sebastian thought. You just never realized it .
    "What kind of demon was that?" Mr. Finch asked.
    Sebastian watched the fire, trying to ignore the sick churning in his guts. He had to tell them. They had to be warned. A few days ago Teaser had told him five newcomers had arrived at the Den. Which meant there were four more of those things out there, able to wear anyone's face.
    "Sebastian?" Philo shifted his feet, then glanced at Hastings and Mr. Finch. "What kind of demon was it?"
    He had to tell them. But it would change things.
    He turned away from the fire and looked into Philo's eyes. "It was an incubus. A pureblood incubus."
    *
    Koltak let the horse wander. Maybe the animal would have better luck finding its way out of this thrice-cursed landscape.
    Where were the towns, the roads, even a farmhouse with some doltish landgrubber who might have enough wits to point him in a direction?
    How many miles had he traveled? How many hours had he wandered around these green, rolling hills?
    He should have made some inquiries in Wizard City. There were bound to be a few citizens who knew how to find the Den. Of course, none of them would have been willing to admit it to a wizard, but if he'd sensed any evasion, he could have brought them up to the Wizards' Hall for questioning.
    Too late for such thoughts. He had to find his way, alone, and bring Sebastian back to Wizard City. And once he'd accomplished his part of the plan to save Ephemera, the wizards in the council wouldn't look at him as if he'd stepped in manure and hadn't wiped all the stink of it off his boots.
     
    The horse snorted, pricked its ears, changed its stride from an amble to an active walk.
    Koltak tensed as he gathered the reins, then relaxed again when he spotted the black horse standing at the top of a rise, just watching him. He'd seen a handful of these horses since he'd crossed the bridge.
    The first two times he'd expected to find a farmhouse or some kind of estate, some indication that the animal belonged to someone. After that, he'd come to the sour conclusion that whoever lived in this landscape just let their animals run wild.
    Or had already been