Free Sweep in Peace (Innkeeper Chronicles Book 2) by Ilona Andrews

flowed closed, as if the platform never existed.
    He glanced back and did a double take.
    “Gaston?” George called from inside.
    The big man shrugged and entered the inn.
    I led them to front room. George took a chair to the left, Gaston landed on the couch, and the auburn-haired man leaned against the wall, inhaling deeply. Sean used to do that. This man was a shapeshfiter. Not a werewolf or a werecat of the Sun Horde, but something else.
    “Breakfast will be served at seven,” I said.
    “It smells divine,” George said. “I hoped to take this opportunity to go over some of our strategy.”
    I sat in my favorite chair. Beast ran into the room, saw the auburn-haired man, and growled. He glanced at her. His upper lip rose slightly, betraying a flash of his teeth. Yes, definitely a shapeshifter.
    “Please don’t try to intimidate my dog,” I said.
    “I’m not,” the russet-haired man said. “When I decide to intimidate…”
    “I will know.” I finished for him. “She isn’t an ordinary dog. If she bites you, she will cause real damage.”
    The shapeshifter studied Beast. “Mhm.”
    George smiled. “This is my brother, Jack. That over there is Gaston, our cousin.”
    Interesting family. “You must realize that both the otrokar and the vampires will see Gaston as a challenge.”
    “I’m counting on it. To put it plainly, I’m the planner,” George said. “Gaston is the muscle. His job is to attract attention and appear to be a threat. He is very good at it.”
    Gaston grinned, displaying serrated teeth.
    “Jack is the killer,” George continued. “He knows other killers, he understands them, and if necessary, he will remove a physical threat before it has a chance to cause any damage.”
    Something shattered in the kitchen.
    The three men glanced at the kitchen doorway.
    “I understand that people in your profession are familiar with the otrokar and the vampires,” George said. “Perhaps we could compare notes?”
    The archives of the Arbiters were legendary. He likely knew everything there was humanly possible to know about all three factions participating in the summit. This sounded like another test or maybe lack of sleep was just making me short-tempered. “I’d love to—”
    A vicious snarl of a Quillonian in mortal danger cut through my voice. Now what?
    “Excuse me.” I got up and walked into the kitchen.
    The door of the far cabinet stood wide open. The Quillonian stood by it, all his spikes erect on his back. His hands clenched a plate. A thick wooden tendril clamped the other end of the plate, trying to pull it out of Orro’s hands and back into the cabinet.
    “What’s going on?”
    “I broke a plate and it refuses to let me have another one!” Orro snarled. “How was I supposed to know the dishes were prehistorically breakable?”
    “Let him have the plate, please.”
    The tendril let go and Orro stumbled back, the plate in his hands.
    “Please help him,” I said to the inn.
    The kitchen creaked.
    “I know,” I said. “But you have to learn to work with him.”
    Orro waved the plate. “I will persevere.”
    “I’m sure you will.”
    I went back into the living room and sat back in my chair, pushing with my magic. “Terminal, split screen, files on vampire and otrokar, please.”
    A wide screen formed in the far wall, the left side showing a vampire and the right an otrokar.
    George raised his eyebrows. “Thank you. On the surface the vampires and otrokar seem like similar species. Both evolved from the same predatory humanoid strain. Both have a martial society, centered around the ideas of conquest and land acquisition, valuing it over other forms of material wealth. They are both aggressive and quick to respond with violence. The art and religions of both civilizations show a strong cult of a warrior’s honor. Both cultures show almost no gender gap. That’s where the similarities end.”
    A fair point.
    “The vampires of Holy Anocracy try to become perfect