This was bad.

The battle was no longer waging on the outskirts of town, not with our lack of numbers and the witch’s arsenal of weapons.

Many of the Vampire’s here weren’t hardened warriors but families without a home, desperate for somewhere safe to raise their children and watch them grow. Seeing as Asher and I refused to force anyone to fight, fearful they’d be killed and ripped away from those they loved, it left us at a huge disadvantage.

Deacon had been right. That much was clear in the feverish way the witches fought, banding together in small groups as they used both magic and human weaponry to take us down. There had to be over a dozen of them, possibly more. They could’ve waited until the sun had risen and claimed this town as their own, but there was always that chance I wouldn’t be here.

It was a risk they chose not to take, and probably our only advantage.

The witches had silver, and plenty of it. Clutched in the hands of many were guns with plated bullets, daggers etched