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The Colt fell the short distance onto the worn carpet and Herne’s body straightened up like a whiplash. But the hand that had dropped the gun didn’t come back up empty. It had the hilt of the bayonet in it and midway through the movement the blade was unleashed across the room. Seth’s mouth stayed open, words drained in mid-sentence; he moved the gun to fire but something plunged its way into his shoulder blade and pinned him to the door. His hand opened in spite of itself and the pistol slipped out.