Clean Sweep(64)

"So crosses don't do anything against your kind?" Sean asked.

"No," Arland said. "There is no mystical force repelling us."

"Then why?"

"We're forbidden to kill a creature in a moment of prayer or invocation of their deity. Well, we can, technically, but you have to do penance and purify yourself and nobody wants to spend weeks praying and bathing themselves in the sacred cave springs. The water's only a fraction warmer than ice. When one of you holds up a cross, it's difficult to determine whether you're praying, invoking, or just waving it around. So the sane strategy is to back away."

"What about garlic?"

"That comes from gravediggers," I told him. "When they exhumed bodies, they would wear garlands of garlic to keep from gagging."

"Holy water?" Sean asked.

"That charming practice originated in Byzantium," Arland said. "Your churches stored a lot of gold, so to keep the undesirables away, the priests would keep quicklime powder on hand. We're positive there were other ingredients in the powder as well, but quicklime was present in abundance. They'd toss a handful of quicklime in your face and dump holy water on you. The water reacts with quicklime, igniting and turning extremely corrosive. But no, I've dipped my hand in your blessed water before and by itself, it does absolutely nothing."

"Where did you get the holy water?" I asked.

"My cousin brought it as a souvenir. I did it on a dare. Logically, of course, I knew it wouldn't melt my skin off, but one can never be certain."

I pictured a bunch of teenage vampires standing around a basin. "You touch it." "No, you touch it..." Of course, he would put his hand into it.

My timer went off.

"Is it that time?" Sean asked.

I nodded and petted Beast one last time. "Guard the house. Stay inside."

Beast whined softly. I didn't want me to go either, but I had no choice about it.

We went out the door. Sean carried a blade in each hand. Arland carried his mace. I carried my broom. The sun had set, but its wake still diluted the sky's purple to pale yellow in the west. The moon rose, bright, huge, like a silver coin in the sky. The scent of grass and the weak aroma of burning wood from someone's fire pit swirled around me. Noises came in clear: the faint sound of our feet, the distant barking of a dog, a siren somewhere far away... The world seemed so sharp somehow. I was wearing jeans during a Texas summer evening, and still I felt cold.

I really didn't want to die.

"Fear is good," Sean told me.

"Too much fear isn't good," Arland said. "Don't worry, I'll be there."

Sean put his hand on my arm and stopped, letting Arland go forward a few steps. He leaned to me and said quietly, "Don't count on him or on me. If things don't go well, you turn around, run back to the house, and let the inn guns blow that bastard to pieces if he follows. I left my parents' number on your kitchen table. Call them if something happens. They'll help."

Two thoughts occurred at the same time. One said "If I could get the dahaka on the grounds, I wouldn't need the guns" and the second said "He's worried enough to do this for me." That last one cut right through the fear of impending death and freaked me right the heck out.

There was no way on Earth I could be falling for Sean Evans. The list of his shortcomings was a mile long: arrogant, unstable, bossy, werewolf... who'd saved me from dying in a Costco parking lot and who kissed like... I shut my brain off and made my lips move. "Thank you."

Sean nodded.

We came to the edge of the field. The Anansi pearls had grown and broken through the soil, rising a few inches above the dirt like the tops of giant mushrooms about to break free. Each of them should be the size of a small tire now, but with most of their bulk buried it was hard to tell. I hoped they were done. Sometimes there were some minor variations due to temperature. The only way to know for sure would be to break one, but once broken, they wouldn't last long in Earth's atmosphere.

Sean stared at the pearls.

Arland raised his eyebrows.

"You sure about this?" Sean asked me.

"Yes. My father's used them before."

Sean and Arland walked out into the field. Although it was technically my property, the inn wasn't yet strong enough to claim it. The grounds ended at the field's edge. I sighed and followed the two men. The protective mantle of magic slid off me. I felt naked.

Arland took out his crest. His fingers danced over the surface. "It's done. It's broadcasting the signal of the person I think betrayed us. The dahaka will show up soon."

"Let's hope you're right," I said.

A minute passed. Another. Time slowed to a crawl. Funny how long a minute can last. If you're reading a good book, it flies by. If you're holding your breath, it moves slower than a snail.