I should have smelled it before I saw it, but with the musky scent of so many weres surrounding me, I had long since stopped inhaling through my nostrils. Instead it was thrust upon my eyes - with no warning - in all of its gruesomeness. At worst, this thing was fairly fresh. Maggots nestled in its mouth and eyes, feasting on the soft tissue that was left. It was new enough to discern that the human it once was must have died from a neck wound. I say this because half of its neck was gone and the bit left behind was mangled.

Had the weres killed him? They probably had. Maybe they killed him specifically for this reason; to toss him in a cage with Harper, because it's her worst fear. But I assume too much. Of course they couldn't have known that. They'd just met me. This was probably what they did to every human who stumbled upon their territory. The ending results: two deaders instead of one.

It struggled against the chains, sensing a scrumptious snack, me, nearby. The thing was so strong, with most of its muscles still intact, that the weres on either side fumbled a bit. I felt as though invisible hands were squeezing my neck, and the closer they got, the hands grew tighter. I was at the verge of fainting by the time Gus unlocked the door, and finally I remembered to breathe. My brain clicked into action and screamed, "Move!"

If the thing got in there with me I was done for. Without a doubt. There was no way I could fight it. It was already dead. It felt no pain. If it were a werewolf, there was hope that I could injure it and get the upper hand. But a deader? No hope.

I dashed to the cage door just as Gus was swinging it open, and thrust into it full force. Gus was caught completely unaware. As the door closed, his hand slid through the bars and I grabbed it, then sunk my teeth into the flesh below his thumb. He howled as blood burst into my mouth. I wasn't prepared for the taste, like garbage and metal, so I let go and spat at the ground. But I didn't waste much time trying to get rid of the blood, because it was now or never. The door swung back open as Gus made a fuss over his injured hand, and I made a break for it.

In a panic, one rarely thinks things through. Looking back now, I know that I couldn't have gotten more than a few feet before some strong and fast were caught me, but at that moment I was desperate. So I took off, feet pounding the ground in rhythm with my thumping heart...and ran right into a burly Clyde who'd inconveniently stepped into my path.

"Nice try, girl," he snarled from above me.

He snatched me up easily with one hand. I could have been a child's teddy bear as easy as it was for him to just pluck me up and lug me around. For all my effort, I'd just delayed the inevitable. Regardless of how much I fought, it could never be enough. I was going back in that God forsaken cage and I was going to die.

Having never died before, I was worrying about the normal things: how much will it hurt, will it be fast, what will happen after? Well, I knew what would happen. To my body anyway. I would become one of them...or would I? Did Spellbinders become deaders when they died?

I scoffed. Spellbinder. A fat lot of good that's done me. It got me ripped away from my family; nearly violated by some weirdo guy who pretended to be nice; and caused me to get close to, and love an unobtainable vampire, like some sad girl in a twisted romance novel. What did I think would happen anyway? That he and I would save the human race and live happily ever after?

Get real, Harper, this isn't make-believe. It's real hell on Earth and this is your only way out...

I shrunk to the far end of the cage when Clyde threw me back in. The crowd, sensing the weakness of someone who'd given up, began to jeer and shower me with their debris again.

The chains clinked and rubbed as the were-guards unraveled the starving deader. I didn't want to look, but I had to. When you know death is moments from rushing up and chomping you to bits, it's kind of hard to look the other way.

There it was, Mister Tall and Gruesome. It wore a tattered uniform of some kind. Bloody saliva and maggots dripped from its mouth onto the shirt. Without any confusion from the noise, it zeroed straight into me. The way it's head snapped sent a wave of doom through me, and my legs must have gave because I hit the ground. It ran. My arms lifted to protect me instinctively, but there honestly wasn't much it could do. It was feet away, then inches. I squeezed my eyes shut and cried out, "Please, don't," because there was nothing else to say.

I meant, don't let it end this way. Not at the hands...or teeth of my worst nightmare. But apparently it had other meaning as I discovered when the entire lot of weres gasped and somehow death didn't come.