Free Steel's Edge by Ilona Andrews

Éléonore heard the screen door slam shut.
    She checked the time. Charlotte had been gone for twenty minutes. She couldn’t cross the boundary into the Broken. Her magic was too strong, so she would likely just wait at the end of the road, before the boundary, until Luke came through and delivered the blood.
    A hint of anxiety squirmed through her, an unpleasant premonition that left unease in its wake. She couldn’t tell if it was her magic warning her or if she’d become paranoid in her old age. It was terrible to get old. But then the alternative wasn’t much better. Besides, Charlotte would sit in the truck with the doors locked. She had a rifle, what little good it would do her. Not that the girl wouldn’t defend herself, but she didn’t have that steel-hard core Éléonore’s granddaughter did. Rose’s resolve carried her through life’s rough waters. Charlotte had weathered some storms, but she lacked that primal viciousness of a born Edger. That’s what made her so special, and that’s why she liked her so much, Éléonore reflected. She too hadn’t been born in East Laporte. Charlotte’s presence reminded her of a different time and a gentler place.
    Ã‰léonore brushed Richard’s hair from his face. “Who is Sophie, Richard?”
    He didn’t answer. It could’ve been anyone, a wife, a lover, a sister. Éléonore knew very little about him. She’d only met him once, but he’d made an impression. It was the way he carried himself with quiet dignity. His brother was all flash, charm, and jokes, but Richard had that sardonic, sharp wit. He didn’t speak much, but occasionally he said clever things with a completely straight face . . .
    â€œMrs. Drayton!” The scream rang out, high-pitched and vibrating with sheer terror. Tulip.
    Ã‰léonore ran to the door. Tulip stood at the wards, her face skewed by fear into a distorted mask. “Mrs. Drayton! They have Daisy!”
    Ã‰léonore hurried across the lawn. Move faster, legs. “Who? Who has Daisy?”
    â€œMen.” Tulip waved her arms. “With guns and horses.”
    A long, ululating howl rolled through the Edge. The tiny hairs on the back of Éléonore’s neck stood up. She grabbed a stone and pulled Tulip into the protective circle. “Inside, now!”
    Tulip ran for the door. Éléonore replaced the stone and hurried after her, across the grass, onto the porch steps.
    The sound of hoofbeats made her spin. A rider came down the road. His head was shaved. He wore black leather, and as he rode, the sun glinted off the long chain shackles hanging from his saddle.
    Slavers.
    The realization lashed her like a whip. Éléonore dashed across the porch into the house, shut the door, and locked it.
    Tulips stared at her with huge eyes. “What’s going on?”
    â€œShhh!” Éléonore moved to the window and peeked through the gap in the curtain. The rider paused by the house, turned his horse, and tried to ride up to the porch. The ward stones shivered. The horse backed away, nearly throwing its rider. He glared at the house, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and whistled.
    More riders followed, joining the first. They wore dark clothes, and their faces were grim. Some bore tattoos, some were painted up, some wore human bones in their hair. Half a dozen wolfripper dogs, big, savage-looking creatures, flanked the horses. A man on the left, scarred, with the face of a bruiser and long blond hair pulled back into a braid rode up and dumped a body onto the ground. Daisy.
Mon dieu.
She was pale as a sheet.
    The men surrounded the lawn. One, two, three . . . Sixteen that she could see.
    Ã‰léonore’s heart sank. There would be no mercy.
    â€œWhat happened?” she whispered.
    â€œWe were walking down the road to the car. Daisy was looking in her purse for the keys. That blond guy rode out