Vane kicked her legs out from under her before she could grab him. He used her bobbing body as a springboard to get out of the water. Like any good wolf, his legs were strong enough to propel him from the water to one of the cypress knees nearby.

His dark wet hair hung in his face while his body throbbed from the fight and from the beating his pack had given him. Moonlight glinted off his wet, muscled body as he crouched with one hand on the old wooden knee that was silhouetted against the backdrop of the swamp. Dark Spanish moss hung from the trees as the full moon, draped in clouds, reflected eerily in the black velvet waves of the water.

Like the animal he was, Vane watched his enemies closing in around him. He wasn't about to surrender himself or Fang to these bastards. He might not be dead, but he was every bit as damned as they were and even more pissed off at Fate.

Lifting his hands to his mouth, Vane used his teeth to bite through the cord around his wrists and free his hands.

"You'll pay for that," a male Daimon said as he moved toward him.

His hands free, Vane backflipped from the stump, into the water. He dove deep into the murky depths until he could break a piece of wood from a fallen tree that was buried there. He kicked his way back toward the area where Fang was being held down.

He came out of the water just beside his brother to find ten different Daimons feeding from Fang's blood.

He kicked one back, seized another by the neck and plunged his makeshift stake into the Daimon's heart. The creature disintegrated immediately.

The others turned on him.

"Take a number," Vane snarled at them. "There's plenty of this to go around."

The Daimon nearest him laughed. "Your powers are bound."

"Tell it to the undertaker," Vane said as he lunged for him. The Daimon jumped back, but not far enough. Used to fighting humans, the Daimon didn't take into account that Vane was physically able to leap ten times as far.