you’re planning on keeping them apart all by yourself?”
“Yes.”
Gaston rubbed his chin.
“You do realize that they are professional soldiers,” Jack said.
“Yes.”
Jack looked at his brother. George smiled.
Jack wouldn’t stop. I recognized his type. He might not have been part of the Sun Horde, but he was a shapeshifter and he was likely a cat. Cats trusted in themselves and chafed at any authority. Sean at least gave me the benefit of the doubt, but Jack wouldn’t. Not until I swatted him on the nose.
“Are you a professional soldier?” I asked.
“I was for a while,” Jack said.
Aha. “And I assume that you’re fast and deadly?”
Jack furrowed his eyebrows. “Sure.”
I glanced at Gaston. “Are you also a professional soldier?
He grinned. “I’m more of a gentleman of adventure.”
George laughed under his breath.
“I save these two from themselves,” Gaston continued. “Occasionally I do a bit of skulduggery.”
What? “Skulduggery?”
“Scale a ten foot wall, jump out of the shadows, break a diplomat’s neck, plant false documents on his body, and prevent an international incident type of thing to keep the war from breaking out,” Gaston said helpfully. “Dreadful stuff, but quite necessary.”
That was a really specific description of skulduggery. I smiled at the two of them. “Since you’re both men of action, this should be an easy challenge. Take my broom away from me.”
The two men measured the distance between me and them.
Jack glanced at his brother. “Are you going to say anything?”
George shook his head. “No, I’m just going to let you walk into this noose. You’re doing a fine job.”
Jack shrugged.
Gaston leaped into the air. It was an incredibly powerful jump. He shot off the floor as if he’d been fired out of a cannon, flying through the air straight for me. The inn’s wall split. Thick flexible roots, smooth with wood grain but agile like whips, exploded from the wall, jerking Gaston out of the air and wrapping him into a cocoon.
Jack dashed underneath Gaston. The inn’s tendrils snapped at him, but he dodged, gliding out of their reach as if his joints were liquid. It was a beautiful thing to watch. I let him get within three feet of me and taped the broom on the floor. The broom handle split, fracturing. Brilliant electric blue shot out and hit Jack’s skin. He convulsed and crashed down like a log.
George threw something. The hand movement was so fast, it was a blur. The tendrils shot out to block and a four-inch dart fell harmlessly to the floor.
The floor of the inn parted like water and Jack sank into it up to his neck. Around me the room stretched slightly, waiting. The broom reformed in my hand. I flicked my fingers and the floor surged up, twisting, raising Jack to my eye level. Above him Gaston hung, suspended upside down. Only his face was visible.
The grey-eyed man unhinged his massive jaws. “Well. This is a bit of a predicament.”
I faced the far wall and pushed with my magic. The wood disintegrated. A vast shallow sea, pale orange, stretched before us under pearl-grey sky. In the distance jagged peaks tore through the water, silhouetted against a scattering of reddish planets. The wind bathed me, bringing with it scent of salt and algae. Yes, this will do nicely.
Ripples troubled the surface. An enormous triangular fin with long spikes carved the water like a knife, speeding toward us.
“The inn is my domain,” I said. “Here I am supreme. If you keep making yourself into a nuisance, I’ll banish you to that ocean and leave you in there overnight.”
The fin was barely twenty five yards away.
Twenty.
Fifteen. A glistening blue hide rose out of the water.
The wall rebuilt itself just before an enormous mouth studded with dagger teeth thrust out of the ocean.
Caldenia descended the stairs. “Ooo. Bondage so early in the morning, dear?”
If only. “May I present Caldenia ka ret Magren,” I said. “Her
Gillian Doyle, Susan Leslie Liepitz