One Fell Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles #3)(87)

Move. Stand up. Do something! I had to do something. I dug my fingers into the darkness and strained to rip it.

Sean’s father shook the Archivarian off at Maud’s feet. My sister focused. Gertrude Hunt responded sluggishly, swallowing the Archivarian.

The two Hiru walked out onto the porch, slow, ponderous, and stopped next to me.

“What are you doing here?” Maud said. “We agreed you would stay safe in your room.”

“We’re the reason for this fight,” Sunset said.

“Let them see us,” Moonlight said. “We are not afraid.”

“We will give them a target, so the Archivarians can be retrieved,” Sunset said.

Maud sighed and called out, “We’re about to get rushed.”

The werewolves pulled out their knives.

One moment the woods were empty. The next, Draziri leapt from the branches in unison, like a flock of predatory birds taking flight. So many… They landed and sprinted across the open ground on their elegant legs, like weightless dancers, Mrak in the lead brandishing a wicked silver blade.

I tore at the darkness. It held.

Caldenia studied her nails.

A tall Draziri, his hair the same white as Mrak’s, buried his knife in Mrak’s back. Mrak cried out. The other Draziri pulled the knife free and flipped it in his fingers, falling into a fighting stance. Mrak spun around. “You dare!”

“You are unfit to lead!” the other Draziri snarled. “You’re weak. You failed again and again. We’re bankrupt, hunted, and dying, all because of you! It’s time for a new power to head this flock.”

They clashed, their blades meeting together with a sharp clang. The invading Draziri broke, splitting. Two-thirds tore into each other. The rest kept running toward us.

“Divide and conquer.” Caldenia smiled. “I do so love that phrase.”

The werewolves rushed into the approaching Draziri.

A brilliant red light pulsed above the grass and spat Arland and Lord Soren onto the lawn, an Archivarian between them, smack in the middle of the clashing Draziri. Their armor smoked. Arland roared, baring his fangs. Helen roared back from the porch, her daggers held wide by her side.

The Draziri fell on them. The two vampires cut a path to the porch, working side by side, their movements practiced and sure. Skulls crunched, blood weapons whined, attackers screamed and died.

Blood splashed on Arland’s face. He snarled as a Draziri fighter buried her blade in his armor.

Maud dropped the broom and ran across the grass, slicing through the Draziri as if they were butter. Helen dashed after her mother. Beast leapt off my lap and bounded after her.

I pounded on the darkness. What are you doing? Use the inn!

“Right now would be an excellent time to step in, my dear,” Caldenia murmured.

I ripped at the darkness with all my will.

A female Draziri blocked Helen’s path, brandishing a large knife. Beast lunged at her. Her jaws with four rows of teeth locked on the Draziri’s ankle. She howled as her bones crunched. Helen jumped onto the female Draziri and slit her throat.

Someone do something, damn it!

Orro ran out of the kitchen, huge, dark, all his spikes erect, thundered over the grass, snatched Helen up by her clothes and dragged her back to the inn.

“No!” Helen kicked her feet. “No!”

He opened his mouth and roared into her face. “Stop!”

She froze, shocked. He dropped her by my feet. “Protect Dina!”

Helen snapped her teeth at him, but stayed put. Beast trotted back to her and flopped on the porch, her mouth dripping blood.

My sister finally remembered that she had powers. The second Archivarian slid into the lawn, spinning like a corkscrew. Maud fought next to Arland, cutting and slicing, her blade so fast, it looked liquid. He was grinning, his face splattered with blood.

A hole opened, and Sean walked out, dragging the third Archivarian out. Marais followed, his clothes covered in soot, his hair wet with slime, his eyes far away, lost in a thousand-yard stare.

Sean.

He came back to me. He came back! The darkness in front of me shrank, thinning. I wanted to stand up so badly, everything hurt.

Marais grabbed the Archivarian by the arm and muscled him toward the porch. Sean followed, quiet and precise, cutting down opponents before they had a chance to notice.

Magic whispered through the lawn, slipping through the emptiness around me. A circular doorway opened silently and Tony, Wing, and Wilmos walked out, bringing the last Archivarian with them. Tony wore a plain brown robe. He carried a broom in his hand.

Wilmos picked up the Archivarian and ran across the grass toward me, Wing scampering after him.

Tony stayed where he was. He looked around him, his nice face oddly serious, and pulled his hood over his head. His broom darkened to black, flowing into a staff, its tip glowing with red. His robe turned the color of blood, spreading like the mantle of some king, moving seemingly on its own, and beneath that robe and inside of his hood was darkness, cold and empty darkness, the kind that lived between the stars.

I reeled back, shocked. Of all the people, I would’ve never guessed Tony.

The ad-hal reached out and touched Mrak’s shoulder. An unearthly voice emanated from inside his hood. It was the kind of voice that stopped your heart.

“Be still.”

Mrak stopped moving. His opponent stumbled back, his face horrified.