Cain snapped her fingers, and fire flared in her open palm. Craven spun to face her with a snarl. If he'd had more time, he might have wondered - was getting rid of her along with Wreath really the best idea? She wasn't technically a Necromancer; Wreath might have thought she was going to be the next Death Bringer, but Craven had always had doubts. She didn't have anything to with the Temple, and her death would invite scrutiny upon the Necromancer Order. High Priest Tenebrae wouldn't be pleased with that. And then, of course, there was Skulduggery Pleasant, known for his grudges and his violent temper.

Craven found, in the heat of the moment, that he didn't really care about any of that.

He snapped a sharpened shadow towards the hand with the fire, but Cain was quite a bit faster than her mentor at the moment. She twisted out of the way, the fire brightened, and she hurled it towards him. Craven managed to wave that aside with a gesture of the amulet, but his attention had left Wreath completely and when he spun back around, the row of gunshots took him completely by surprise.

Even more so when one of the bullets got past his weakened defense and grazed his shoulder.

Craven fell back with a cry as his shoulder all but exploded in pain. The gun was a colt. A colt. Shouldn't you have to reload colts?

Craven backed up against the wall, clutching his injured shoulder, watching Cain hurry over to Wreath's side. At least, he noted with satisfaction, the spear had hit. The way it was supposed to. Wreath didn't look like he'd be able to walk anywhere for a bit. Petty, maybe, but the thought diminished the pain.