Midnight In St. Pertsburg (The Invisible War 1) by Barbara J. Webb Page B

gilded archway. “This way!” she called. “They can’t follow you into here.”
    It seemed the best offer Rose was going to get. She ran harder, gave everything she had to just making it through that door.
    A deafening crack split the air and the ground shook. Rose tripped and stumbled and fell. She looked behind, sure she’d be looking death in the face.
    Instead, she saw Ian.
    He shone, radiant in the darkness. He stood tall and calm, his hands on the hilt of a white-hot sword he’d driven into the marble floor.  
    Ian ran his hand along the edge of the blade, slicing his palm open. Blood dripped to the floor, and with each drip the shadows pushed back, dissolving into the more natural darkness. The woman at the chapel door hissed. Ian drew his sword from the ground and pointed it at her. She fled into the chapel and slammed the door behind her.
    Ian came over to Rose, smiling and confident, his lingering excitement a driving pulse in her mind. He offered his non-bleeding hand. “Are you all right?”
    Rose shook her head, confused. It had all happened so fast. And she’d been yelling at Mike—why had she been yelling at Mike?
    Ian helped her to her feet. “Don’t worry. She was more in a mood to play than fight.”
    Mike and Nazeem came back into view. They, too, had scattered, but no way to know if they’d been fleeing or giving chase. “Will someone explain what just happened?” Rose demanded.
    “I will,” Ian said. “But not here. She might come back.”
    Mike nodded agreement. “The hotel. And then we talk.”
    *     *     *
    Mike’s pulse had almost returned to normal. That brush with the folk—what else could they have been—left him more shaken than he would have expected.
    It wasn’t the physical danger. Demons, voiders, vampires, folk, they all had their tricks and some things Mike could counter and other things he had to avoid. But those were surface threats. Fire and force, steel and strength could hurt you, even kill you. But they couldn’t touch you where it counted, couldn’t change the man inside.
    The thing that gave him nightmares was the way some of the folk could reach inside you and stroke and tune your thoughts until you didn’t even recognize yourself. Not all, thank God. Demons could possess a man, but not a voider. Vampire mind-tricks similarly bounced off the mind of any voider who’d really settled into his powers. But the folk…the folk…
    Mike had been much younger when he’d worked with that other hunter, Aidan. It never occurred to him he’d be just as vulnerable to fairy manipulation now as he had been then. Insidious bastards. And he and Rose had played right into their hands. Given them plenty of antagonism to stoke into blind rage.
    Back in his suite, everyone settled in. Mike offered Ian a towel for his bleeding hand. Ian smiled his thanks, relaxed and easy.  
    Rose stood against the wall, across the room from everyone. Her arms were crossed tight across her stomach. “What the hell was that?”
    Mike answered before Ian could. “You know what I do. You know what Nazeem is. Well, now you’ve been introduced to Ian’s specialty.”
    “And that is?” Nazeem asked. Mike couldn’t deny a twist of cold amusement that they’d run into something he knew and the vampire didn’t.
    Mike let Ian answer.
    “The folk,” Ian said. “That’s what we call them. That’s what they call themselves. In legend, they have other names. The fair ones. The little people. The fae. Fairies. My family and other families like us, we hunt them.”
    “You’re not a voider,” Nazeem said.
    Rose started. “Of course he’s not.” She turned to Ian. “But you’re not exactly human either.”
    He nodded. “We’re descended from them. I’m not one of them, but I have enough of their blood in me to work some of their magic and fight them on their turf.”
    “And you knew about this?” Rose directed her question at Mike.
    “I’ve worked with Ian’s people