I straightened and pulled the empty air with both hands. The wind roared as the entire inn pulled with me. The dahaka howled, straining to resist the storm made just for him. His feet sank into the soil. He dropped down to all fours, clawing at the dirt, screeching in pure terror.
The house and I pulled, trying to drag him into the inn.
The dahaka slid across the grass, straight to me. Somehow he flipped and leaped straight up at me, claws out, teeth bared. Filaments bristled like narrow javelins and shot from me, piercing him in a dozen places. The dahaka howled, suspended in midair, flailing like a fish on a hook. Behind him, Sean leaped ten feet up and severed the dahaka's head with one precise blow.
It rolled to my feet. The purple fire went out of the alien's eyes.
My knees buckled and I sat on the grass. It reached to me, rubbing against me like a cat arching its back, eager for a stroke.
We'd won.
*** *** ***
Sean sat on the grass next to me. Blood slicked his skin. The dahaka had gotten in a few good cuts.
We watched as Arland searched the dahaka's armor. He found something, examined it closely, and came to sit next to us. In his hands was a vampire's crest. He showed it to me. "I activated it and sent a message. He's coming."
"He?" Sean asked.
"My cousin."
"How did you know?" Sean asked.
"He'd opposed the Pact of Brotherhood. Nothing forceful, just a snide comment here and there, enough to let us know he wasn't happy about it. Orig has poor impulse control. As a child, he got into fights for frivolous reasons. As an adolescent, he had to learn the hard way that women don't enjoy being assaulted. He is at his best when he is set loose on the battlefield in the ranks, but in his mind, he is the Marshal. He spoke at the feast in my aunt's honor after we buried her. It was all outrage and bluster and how we would find those responsible and make them regret ever crawling out of their mother's womb. After the funeral I saw him standing by himself. I was above him on the terrace and he thought he was alone. He was smiling. I thought it was odd at the time. I used your terminal to check with the House. They pulled his flight plans for the past six months. A month before the wedding, he'd taken a trip to Savva. The idiot had charged the House for the fuel. There is one in every family."
Sean glanced at me.
"Savva is the mercenary capital of the galaxy," I told him. "If you wanted to hire a killer, that would be the place."
Arland grimaced. "Now I'll have to mop up his mess."
"Now?" I asked.
He nodded. "I want to get this over with."
"Don't you want to heal up?" I asked.
"No, I don't." The way he said it made it clear he wanted the questions dropped.
We sat together, bleeding quietly onto the grass. I hurt in half a dozen places. Funny how in the fight I hadn't noticed, but apparently, I was all cut up to hell. The inn could heal the magical injuries but not the physical ones. Well, this would cure me of looking for trouble for at least a few weeks.
The screen door clanged. I turned around. Lord Soren, out of his armor and limping, struggled forth. He crossed the property and lowered himself on the grass next to Arland.
Arland nodded to him. "Is there a precedent for outsiders serving as witnesses?"
"Yes," Lord Soren said.
"Good."
The sky above us split. A bright red orb formed in the air and drained down in a silent, glowing waterfall of red, leaving three new vampires on the grass. The tallest looked a lot like Arland. If they were human, I'd say the cousin was about six or seven years older, but with vampires, nobody could tell.
Arland rose and walked over. "Why?"
The vampire snarled back.
"Engage your translator," Arland said. "My witnesses don't speak our language."
I leaned over to Lord Soren. "Orig isn't your son, is he?" Because that would be awful.
"No," the older vampire said. "Other side of the family."
Orig fixed Arland with a glowing stare. "This alliance, this brotherhood you and your father dragged us into. It's not good for anyone. We've had two years of peace. Two years of no raids, no challenges, and no glory. We're going soft and stale. You don't care, and I get that you don't care. You have achieved your place, but the rest of us are not as lucky. Not everyone can be the golden son. Some of us have ranks to climb."
"You had the exact same opportunities I did," Arland said. "You didn't rise through the ranks because you're an undisciplined idiot. You want to know my secret? Before you earn the right to give orders, you have to follow them. We were going to launch a joint offensive against House Lon this fall. It would've been massive and it would let us extend our influence over the entire continent. The offensive is now dead. Congratulations, Orig. You single-handedly crushed three years of planning. You brought in an outsider to assassinate your own aunt, and you've permitted him to soil your crest. It will be years before we can wipe away the stench of your foul stain from our name."