One Fell Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles 3)

“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.

The corruption awoke and surged forward.

Magic drowned the clearing, ancient and cold. I felt it even through the darkness. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose. It flowed among the Draziri and held them in place.

Behind me the corruption dripped from the ceiling to pool on the kitchen floor.

Arland spun around toward the creature that used to be Tony, focusing on the new threat.

“No!” Maud threw her weight on Arland’s sword arm.

“You have been judged by the Assembly,” the ad-hal said. “You have been found guilty.”

Mrak just stood there, a lost expression on his face. Nobody moved.

The corruption spilled from the doorway, rising like a foul cloud, emanating its putrid magic. I tore at the darkness. It’s coming. Look! Look, damn you!

Someone screamed.

The foul cloud slithered toward the ad-hal across the grass. It wasn’t hiding anymore. He raised his hand. His magic rose to block it, but the corruption flowed through it and kept going. I felt him pour his power out and the corruption swallowed it and wanted more.

It would infect him. It had wanted him all along.

Sean stepped between the corruption and the ad-hal and raised his knife. His eyes were pure amber.

The corruption would kill him. I would lose him and that couldn’t happen. I’ve lost too much already. I lost my father, my mother, and my brother. Even my sister was lost for a time. I’d lost the seed of an inn.

Nobody would take Sean from me. I loved him, he loved me, and he was mine.

No. Not today. Not ever.

Not in my inn.

A towering wave of rage swept through me and burst through the darkness. The wall blocking me tore apart, its shreds melting into nothing. The power of Gertrude Hunt hit me all at once, the inn suddenly triumphant, giddy that it finally felt me and we connected. The broom landed in my hand. I was on my feet, and I didn’t know when I got up or how. I raised the broom and poured all the inn’s power and all my magic through it.