Serpent's Kiss (Elder Races #3)(99)

Carling smiled as she rolled up the sketches, slid them back in the tube and handed it to Seremela, who perched the tube on top of her physician’s bag between the straps. Both women were smiling as they walked out of bedroom to find Rune still dressed in black and armed for war.

He wore two guns in shoulder holsters and a short sword strapped to his back. He had changed out of his sleek dress shoes and now wore steel-toed boots. As Carling and Seremela entered the living room, he was just rolling up his sleeves and strapping leather armbands with throwing stars to his forearms.

After she took one thoughtful look at him, Carling didn’t waste time asking for an explanation. Instead she turned her attention to Seremela. “We need to get you out of San Francisco.”

“And we need to do that as fast as possible,” Rune said. He yanked the straps closed on one armband and began to fasten the other.

“What’s happened?” Seremela said. The medusa looked frightened.

“Never mind, Seremela,” Rune told her. His expression had turned killer cold, but his voice remained calm. “This doesn’t concern you. The less you know about things, the better.”

Carling said, “I’m going to call Khalil and use that last favor. He’ll see that she gets home safely.”

“Sounds good,” Rune said. “Then you and I can take off.”

A loud knock sounded on the suite door. “Nightkind SFPD,” a male said in a voice meant to carry. “Open up.”

Rune said to her, “Call him.”

She spoke the words that were the spell that sent the call spearing into the night.

The knock at the door turned into pounding. “Sentinel Ainissesthai, we know you’re in there. You need to come into the precinct with us for questioning.”

“Get in the bedroom,” Rune said to Carling and Seremela. He positioned himself in front of the door.

Carling grabbed Seremela’s arm and marched her into the bedroom as the cyclone blew into the suite. At the bedroom door, she glanced back to see Rune throw himself at the door, bracing it with his shoulder against the kick from the hall that was meant to break it down.

Khalil materialized in front of her gaze. He looked over his shoulder at Rune then turned to her. The Djinn’s spare, elegant features were sharp with interest.

Carling twisted, hauling Seremela bodily around. She shoved the medusa unceremoniously into Khalil’s arms, physician’s bag and all. “Take her to Chicago,” she said. “See that she gets home safely.”

Behind Khalil, she saw Rune brace his whole body as another kick slammed against the door. “The doorjamb is breaking,” Rune said. “I can’t hold it for long.”

Khalil raised an eyebrow. He looked mildly incredulous. He asked, “Are you sure this is how you want to spend your last favor?”

“Yes, goddammit, GO!” she snapped. She didn’t wait to watch the cyclone blow away with Seremela. Instead she sprinted into the bedroom. Moving as fast as she could, she tore into her suitcases, looking for any weapons Rufio may have provided, cursing herself for not thinking to specify what he should pack. She really had relied on Rhoswen too much and for far too long.

Ah, bless you, Rufio. Two stilettos. Her weapon of choice for close fighting. She snatched them up in their leather sheaths. She wished she had a gun as well for backup, but the most effective long-range weapons she had were her offensive spells. She briefly considered shoes and more protective clothing, but then she heard a sharp splintering and the sound of snarling from the other room and she turned to race back into the living room.

Rune was fighting hand-to-hand in a whirlwind melee with a sixteen-foot-tall troll, and three ghouls. Though the word “ghoul” was etymologically descended from gallu, the Mesopotamian term for demon, ghouls were nevertheless Nightkind creatures. They blistered easily in strong sunlight, and were inhumanly strong and fast, and if they got someone pinned, their Power could consume their victim’s flesh. The massive, gray-skinned troll was not as fast as were the ghouls, but she had a strength that could crush boulders. If she managed to catch up with Rune, she could kill him with a single solid blow to the head.

Rune had partially shifted into the golden monster. He moved with such speed, she could barely track him. He slashed out with both talon-tipped hands, and blood spurted from two of the ghouls.

The troll went down on her hands and knees, fished around with one tremendous hand, and caught hold of one of Rune’s ankles. He lifted his free foot to smash his steel-toed boot into her face. The troll blinked and grunted, but held on.

Carling sighed and spoke the words that iced the air, and stillness spread over the knot of fighters. The troll still looked pained, and two of the ghouls bore deep, bleeding claw marks. The third ghoul was in the process of pulling his regulation gun. Carling walked over to appropriate the gun for herself as Rune’s Power surged against her spell. He shook his head, swearing, and yanked his ankle out of the troll’s grip.

“That spell of yours is beginning to grow on me,” he growled. Rune turned away from the frozen knot of Nightkind fighters, his face and body settling back into more normal lines as he walked over to her.

Carling tilted her face up for his swift kiss. “It’s not their fault,” she said. “I’m assuming they’re just following orders.”

Rune might no longer look like the monster caught in midshift, but his eyes glowed with a flat, wicked light. “Julian’s orders,” he spat. “He’s trying to get me out of the picture and isolate you. He got you fired, baby. You’re no longer a Councillor on the Elder tribunal, but I notice he did not come to deliver the news to you in person.”