moonlight. The grin told me it wasn’t anyone we’d miss.
“Edgar’s calling us back to the house. He doesn’t think they expected this level of resistance.”
“Where’s he been?” I asked.
“Two necromancers attacked them,” Foster said. “We helped.” His smile was terrible.
“Dead?” Sam asked.
Foster nodded. “Zola incinerated one of them.”
“Philip?” I asked.
Foster shook his head. “Edgar saw what you did to the mercenary who killed Mindy,” he said as he landed on Sam’s shoulder. “He may never thank you for it, but I know he appreciates it.”
“Don’t get that on my parka,” Sam said with a sideways glance at Foster.
Foster wiped his face and started to lean forward with a glob of blood on his hand.
“Dammit, bug!” Sam growled.
The fairy burst into laughter and fluttered over to Mike’s shoulder.
“Did we only lose one?” Mike asked.
“So far,” Foster said. “But the battle hasn’t really started, has it?”
Mike shook his head. “Let’s move back to the house.”
The demon turned and led us back to the hollow doorway at the front of the guest house. Foster flew out and waved us over once he thought it was clear. We ran, hunched low to the ground, with our boots and shoes crunching on the gravel until we hit the wooden steps with a rhythmic series of thumps.
For a moment I questioned the intelligence of walking back in through the front door. Then a vertical bar of yellow light appeared as the heavy walnut door cracked open and we slipped in, joining our allies, who were spread between the hall and the living room. I nodded to the innkeeper as we walked by. Aideen was on the grand piano in her small form. She had her chainmail armor across her lap, carefully cleaning blood from it with a needle and thread. Each run through the loops dyed the white thread with blood. Zola had a hand on Edgar’s shoulder as he sat on the bench.
“You couldn’t have done a thing,” my master said, her old world New Orleans accent in full swing after the adrenaline rush of the fight.
“You know that’s not true,” Edgar whispered. “We’ve lost so many. If I’d just let it go, if I just—”
“Hush, it is done.”
He nodded and looked up at the rest of the room. Vassili stood nearby, beside an ornately carved marble fireplace. He picked up an old fireplace poker and eyed the handle. A small smile flitted over his face before he set it down. Dad sat in a chair beside Vassili. Dad nodded and I returned the gesture.
“Nice shooting?” I said dryly.
“Quite so chap,” he said, just as dryly.
The large Watcher standing beside him exhaled loudly.
“Sorry about Mindy,” I said.
He cocked his head to the side and then looked away. Either he didn’t give a crap about Mindy, or he really didn’t like me. Or maybe both.
At the same time I realized who the wall of muscle standing next to him was, Sam squealed.
“Dominic!” The hug would have crushed any mortal man. And the thump he gave her on the back would have crushed any mortal woman.
Dominic was a monster, one of the Pit’s enforcers, and he was hella handy when shit went bad. He was still sporting an ultra-short blond crew cut. His eyes were black as pitch in the orange light, even though I knew they were a dark brown.
Once Sam released him, I extended my arm and traded grips.
“Good to see you, Damian.”
“You too, Dom,” I gritted out in mild agony.
He raised his eyebrows, glanced at my arm, and said, “Oh, sorry. Sometimes I forget. After all, you survived your sister.”
“So far,” I said as I rubbed my arm.
Mike had no such issues. He smacked Dominic on the back hard enough to send him stumbling forward three steps.
“Good to see you, Smith,” the vampire said as he extended his arm. They shook hands like we had, hands to elbows.
“We should meet on better terms some day,” Mike said. “Haven’t seen you since the battle with Prosperine.”
“Hardly a battle,” Dominic
“Edgar’s calling us back to the house. He doesn’t think they expected this level of resistance.”
“Where’s he been?” I asked.
“Two necromancers attacked them,” Foster said. “We helped.” His smile was terrible.
“Dead?” Sam asked.
Foster nodded. “Zola incinerated one of them.”
“Philip?” I asked.
Foster shook his head. “Edgar saw what you did to the mercenary who killed Mindy,” he said as he landed on Sam’s shoulder. “He may never thank you for it, but I know he appreciates it.”
“Don’t get that on my parka,” Sam said with a sideways glance at Foster.
Foster wiped his face and started to lean forward with a glob of blood on his hand.
“Dammit, bug!” Sam growled.
The fairy burst into laughter and fluttered over to Mike’s shoulder.
“Did we only lose one?” Mike asked.
“So far,” Foster said. “But the battle hasn’t really started, has it?”
Mike shook his head. “Let’s move back to the house.”
The demon turned and led us back to the hollow doorway at the front of the guest house. Foster flew out and waved us over once he thought it was clear. We ran, hunched low to the ground, with our boots and shoes crunching on the gravel until we hit the wooden steps with a rhythmic series of thumps.
For a moment I questioned the intelligence of walking back in through the front door. Then a vertical bar of yellow light appeared as the heavy walnut door cracked open and we slipped in, joining our allies, who were spread between the hall and the living room. I nodded to the innkeeper as we walked by. Aideen was on the grand piano in her small form. She had her chainmail armor across her lap, carefully cleaning blood from it with a needle and thread. Each run through the loops dyed the white thread with blood. Zola had a hand on Edgar’s shoulder as he sat on the bench.
“You couldn’t have done a thing,” my master said, her old world New Orleans accent in full swing after the adrenaline rush of the fight.
“You know that’s not true,” Edgar whispered. “We’ve lost so many. If I’d just let it go, if I just—”
“Hush, it is done.”
He nodded and looked up at the rest of the room. Vassili stood nearby, beside an ornately carved marble fireplace. He picked up an old fireplace poker and eyed the handle. A small smile flitted over his face before he set it down. Dad sat in a chair beside Vassili. Dad nodded and I returned the gesture.
“Nice shooting?” I said dryly.
“Quite so chap,” he said, just as dryly.
The large Watcher standing beside him exhaled loudly.
“Sorry about Mindy,” I said.
He cocked his head to the side and then looked away. Either he didn’t give a crap about Mindy, or he really didn’t like me. Or maybe both.
At the same time I realized who the wall of muscle standing next to him was, Sam squealed.
“Dominic!” The hug would have crushed any mortal man. And the thump he gave her on the back would have crushed any mortal woman.
Dominic was a monster, one of the Pit’s enforcers, and he was hella handy when shit went bad. He was still sporting an ultra-short blond crew cut. His eyes were black as pitch in the orange light, even though I knew they were a dark brown.
Once Sam released him, I extended my arm and traded grips.
“Good to see you, Damian.”
“You too, Dom,” I gritted out in mild agony.
He raised his eyebrows, glanced at my arm, and said, “Oh, sorry. Sometimes I forget. After all, you survived your sister.”
“So far,” I said as I rubbed my arm.
Mike had no such issues. He smacked Dominic on the back hard enough to send him stumbling forward three steps.
“Good to see you, Smith,” the vampire said as he extended his arm. They shook hands like we had, hands to elbows.
“We should meet on better terms some day,” Mike said. “Haven’t seen you since the battle with Prosperine.”
“Hardly a battle,” Dominic
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