by Mina Carter
Baron had paused just ahead of her on the top step, and as she watched, moved his head from side to side, almost as though he was trying to pick up a scent. It wasn’t a human movement, more like that of a dog.
“Air is thick with magic. I would say they’re using some kind of suppression spell. Even if they aren’t, or it lapses, we need the element of surprise.”
Spells? Air thick with magic? She narrowed her eyes, her belief he was human taking a battering. How could he know that? Either he was like Lucy, a para-CSI nut, or he was way more than the average bodyguard.
“My father didn’t get you from the normal security agency, did he?”
Given how tight-lipped he was with information about himself, she hadn’t expected an answer at all. Instead, he surprised her by glancing over his shoulder as they made their way down the stairs, then shaking his head. Before she could ask anything else though, he paused, listening for something she couldn’t hear.
“Shit, they’re coming in the front. We need to go out the back. Now.”
Grabbing her arm, he bundled her down the last few stairs in front of him and shoved her down the hall. Heavy crashes and the sound of breaking glass behind them proved he was right. Something was coming through—literally through—the front door and whatever it was, it wasn’t human.
“Go, go, go, go!”
Snarls and thunder behind them added wings to her heels and she sprinted toward the kitchen, and beyond it, the back door. If they could get out into the garden, they could reach the garages at the bottom and her father’s SUVs parked in there. At least two of the vehicles were bulletproof, so that should mean that they were whatever-was-coming-through-the-front-door proof as well. At least, she hoped they were. She really hoped they were.
Skidding into the kitchen doorway, she stopped dead. There were men in there. Very small, old men. With pikes.
Baron ran into the back of her, a big arm around her to stop them both tumbling to the ground. His gaze followed hers.
“Shit. Redcaps. The panic room…. Run!”
*
Honor ran, her footsteps pounding a desperate beat against the polished wood of the hallway. Baron couldn’t allow himself the luxury of watching her. Instead, he kept his eyes on the redcaps causing mayhem in the large kitchen and hoped like hell the trolls hadn’t managed to figure out how to get through the front door yet. As a species, they’d definitely been at the back of the queue when the brains had been handed out. Honor wasn’t stupid, she’d be able to outwit them. Easily. Maybe.
There was a roar from upstairs, the unmistakable sound of a very pissed off dragon shaking the house. A sigh of relief punched free from Baron’s chest. His brother was awake and free of the spell, which meant...he cocked an ear just as a troll squealed in pain. Yup, he was dealing with the rock-heads.
He turned his attention back to the scene in front of him. The redcaps had all but trashed the kitchen. Doors hung cock-eyed on their hinges, the contents of the cupboards strewn over the floor. Some had been torn free completely, two redcaps near the back door using a couple of them to play tennis with a cabbage. At least, it looked like a cabbage. Since they were just as liable to turn on each other as anyone else, it could easily be a head.
There were three in the refrigerator, hooting and calling out to the others as they hurled food out from the chilled depths. One had found the vodka and was slumped half in and half out of a cupboard, singing something with enough profanity to make a marine blush.
Redcaps and trolls, suppression spells, and a serious sensor net with a shadow dragon guard? Whoever the Crofts had pissed off, they’d got some big muscles magically speaking, and balls too for setting redcaps and trolls loose in a city. Both were fuckers to control.
Silence fell as the redcaps noticed him in the doorway. A couple dropped off counters, and the three in the fridge abandoned it to gather in the center of the kitchen. One kicked the singer and when he didn’t shut up, slashed his throat from ear to ear. Baron didn’t flinch, just stared them down.
“You little fuckers picked the wrong house,” he snarled, letting his dragon free enough to shine in his eyes.
“Oh yeah, says who?”
A redcap leapt onto the central island, a swagger in his step and an evil light in his deep-set eyes. They looked like wizened little men. If it weren’t for the fact they were all carrying pikes, he’d have thought they’d escaped from a fantasy film set.
Now that Honor was out of the way and safe, he found he was looking forward to this. On normal jobs, even ones where violence played a part, he and Duke always had to reign themselves in. Hurt the humans, scare them, yeah but they weren’t allowed to actually kill them.
Redcaps though, were murderous little bastards of the faery persuasion. Dwarf, or goblin, he’d never worked out which and frankly, didn’t care. They weren’t human which was all that mattered. Not human meant he could barbecue the vicious little shits.
“Says me.” Baron grinned, showing a mouthful of teeth that were nowhere near human.
The redcap leader looked less than impressed and flashed a set of teeth that a Mako shark would have been proud of.
“D’ya think we’re bothered what a big-job like you says?”
Baron didn’t bother with a reply, and launched himself into the kitchen. Redcaps leapt off every available surface and battle was joined, fast and furious. Unable to shift properly in the small space, Baron called his scales and used them to cover his human body like armor.
Reaching out, he grabbed the nearest redcap and used it as a club to knock down the three closing in on his left side. Two threw themselves off the top of the refrigerator, bellowing war-cries at the top of their lungs. He altered his throat to draconic for a second and incinerated them mid-Braveheart moment with a gout of flame.
Troll screams and loud crashes at the front of the house told him Duke was having as much fun as he was. Nearly. Trolls were ponderous and slow, not quite as much fun as the redcaps. Trying to grab them was like trying to grab chickens on the run, or herding ferrets.
Lashing out with a taloned hand, he decapitated one and caught the head. Judging the weight, he took a step to the side and rolled it like a bowling ball. If a bowling ball was thrown at the speed of a bullet. It knocked another couple off their feet, breaking bones in the process if the screams were anything to go by, and buried itself in the dishwasher door.
He’d never fought them before but the agency was real big on Species Threat Familiarization, so he’d sat through the lectures. Redcaps were a level four threat. They were creepy little fucks who liked to lure travelers off roads and murder them in inventive ways, then soak their weird caps in their victim’s blood. And they did it at a rate that would make a serial killer green with envy because if the blood on the cap dried out, then its owner died.
He grinned as a thought occurred to him, and looked down. One was wrapped around his leg, trying to pry scales free. Baron snarled and grabbed him around the scuff of the neck. The creature shrieked obscenities and flailed about with its pike. Baron swore as it tried to kick him in the family jewels with the big boots it wore but missed and got his hip instead. Ignoring the pain, he shoved it head first into the sink on the island and turned the tap on full. Water cascaded over its head and it screamed, a terrible soul-searing scream as blood swirled in the sink and disappeared down the plug. It jerked and shuddered, falling still as the water ran clear.
Baron grinned. Okay, so blood washed out worked just as well as dried.
The rest attacked en-masse and he became a whirlwind of activity. Dropping his scales, he used tendrils of shadow to stuff two in the dishwasher, turning it on as he threw another in the microwave. Cooking dried blood well. Two more joined their buddy in the sink and one ended up the mop bucket. Bit of bleach might get rid of the stink.
Roaring again, he turned and headed back into the fray, determined that no redcaps were going to survive their first encounter with a dragon.
*
>
Honor ran like she’d never run before. Forget trotting along on the treadmill, she discovered a hitherto unknown ability to break the land speed record. On foot. She misjudged the turning into her father’s office and slammed into the door frame. Pain flared in her shoulder and upper arm but she was too busy to pay it much mind. Adrenaline coursed through her as she belted across the office, but rather than make for the hidden door behind the bookshelf and the panic room it concealed, she headed for her father’s desk instead.
“Sorry, Mom. I know you didn’t like violence,” she whispered to the painting above the fireplace. It was of a young woman standing by a window, her face highlighted by the sunlight streaming in and happiness. Her hand rested over her swollen stomach, reassuring and protecting the baby within. Honor.
She yanked the drawer on the left open. “But a gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do.”
Grabbing her father’s gun, she searched in the drawer for the ammunition. Thanks to her father’s insistence she know how to look after herself, she’d trained extensively on all the types of weaponry kept in the house. Her fingers closed around a couple of magazines, already loaded, and she pulled them free. Both full, one was standard ammunition, but the second shone in the moonlight streaming through the window behind her with the tell-tale glint of silver.
Slipping the normal one in her robe pocket, she loaded the silver, her movements slick with experience, but then paused. Shit. Silver was just for weres, wasn’t it? Would it work on redcaps? She screwed her eyes closed, trying to remember if Lucy had ever said anything about them, and more importantly, how to incapacitate them.
Redcaps...redcaps... Her eyes shot open. Lucy had mentioned them. They were fairies... Her gaze fell on the fireplace below her mother’s portrait. Pokers were iron, weren’t they? And none of the fairy-folk liked iron.
She was around the desk before she could think about it. Thinking about what she was going to do was a bad idea. It was the kind of idea that would have her curled up in a ball under the desk, gibbering like a damn idiot. Or holed up in the panic room, and that was so not happening.
No matter what Baron had ordered, she was not going to hide in there. Fuck waiting around for Sm—Baron, or anyone to come and save her. Someone had made threats on her life and now they’d had the audacity to invade her home. That pissed her the hell off.
She grabbed the poker and hefted the silver loaded gun in the other hand. Fucking paranormal douchebags who thought they could do whatever the hell they wanted. She’d show them.
Edging out the door, she glanced down the hall. Most of the front door and surrounding wall was gone, replaced by a shadowy, seething mass.
With a wordless yell, she fired blindly into it as she ran past toward the kitchen. A roar of pain followed her, making her wince and duck her head as her ears rang with the sound. Her heart pounded as her sprint ate up the distance between her and where she’d left Baron. Did he know about fairies and iron? Probably. He seemed to know more about whatever the hell was going on than she did.
Reaching the kitchen, she stopped by the door. The room looked like something out of a horror movie. Blood splattered what had been pristine white counters and tiles, small bodies scattered around the room like macabre set dressings. She sucked a breath in, hoping beyond hope the next body she saw wasn’t Barons.
The breath shuddered free in a sigh of relief when she spotted him over on the other side of the room. His lips were stretched in a wordless bellow as he held a redcap’s head down in the sink, while it struggled and lashed out with booted feet.
“’ello, pretty.” A harsh whisper made her jump and back up as a wizened face peered around the door frame. An evil look shone in its dark eyes as it looked her up and down. A drop of something dark fell from its cap and down onto its cheek.
“How about you and me have some fun?”
Baron roared her name at the same moment the horrible little creature detached itself from the door and launched at her.
Time slowed to a crawl. She had time to register a bead of sweat slither down her spine, in the hollow where it wasn’t absorbed by her night-gown and robe.
He lifted his pike, light glittering along the lethal edge as it sped towards her neck. In the absence of any sort of instruction from her frozen brain, her body moved of its own accord. She side-stepped the pike’s descent and swung the poker like it was a baseball bat. But instead of aiming for his face, she recalled the words of one of her martial arts instructors and aimed for two inches behind the back of his head.
The poker hit with a meaty thunk, the impact reverberating through the metal to her arms and something wet splattered her robe and the wall. The redcap’s body hit the floor like a broken toy. She swallowed hard, backing up.
She’d killed him. Actually killed him. Bile rose in her throat and tears prickled the back of her eyes. She’d never killed anything before. Hell, she felt sick at the thought of killing anything. She’d cried for weeks as a kid when her pet rabbit had been sick and had to be put down.
Her left foot slipped on something, sliding out from under her. Unable to keep her balance she went down hard, eyes still riveted on the dead redcap. His wide-open eyes followed her every movement mockingly. Her breath shortened, tension stealing her ability to move as the scream lodged in her throat tried to claw its way free.
Before she could lose it completely, Baron was there. Pulling her into his arms, he smoothed her hair back from her face.
“Shh, love. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”
Chapter Seven
Honor couldn’t stop shaking. Even tucked into Baron’s side, safe and protected against his heart, she still couldn’t stop the tremors from racking her body. All she could see when she closed her eyes was red blood splashed across white walls. Shivering, she huddled closer, leaning against him as he spoke to the groups who had arrived, as though she could absorb some of his strength, right through his skin and clothing.
He amazed her. A few phone calls and people had started to arrive. Guards had secured the perimeter and the sound of power-tools filtered through the house from the direction of the kitchen and front door. It was just a patch up job to prevent the elements getting in. Anything more permanent would have to be dealt with at a later date, after her father had gone through the insurance companies for paranormal damage.
Honor had just nodded at that, her mind still on the verge of yammering away to itself in the corner. She wasn’t sure how that one would work. After all, ‘I’m sorry, but a troll ripped the front door off my house’ probably wasn’t something they heard on a daily basis.
She frowned, would that come under an act of Troll, or act of God? Some paranormals associated with different pantheons could get rather pissed off to be associated with the Abrahamic religions.
“Thanks, Zane. I’d feel much better knowing you guys are out there watching our backs. Whoever this is, they’ve got some pretty serious grunt to throw.” Baron shook the hand of a large guy with more hair than Wolverine. Honor was pretty sure the sharp canines that showed every time he smiled meant that he wasn’t human. More canine…werewolf or weredog, she didn’t know enough about them to make a guess on which.
“No problem. Me ’n the gang’ll stay outside, out of sight. Well, apart from Trent…you know how he prefers to guard things.”
The rumble of laughter from both men hinted at a shared background, but it was a clue she wasn’t up to deciphering at the moment. Her slight movement at Baron’s side caught his attention and he glanced down. Taking one look at her face, he turned back to Zane.
“Thanks man, I’ll leave you to deal with the outside security. I need to get Miss Croft…settled and comfortable. She’s had a hell of a night. Dealt with a redcap herself, with a poker.”
Surprise, then approval filtered over Zane’s expression and he offered her a smile. “Hey…well done. They’re tricky little bastards…err, excuse language. Good job on knowing about iron.”
<
br /> Honor managed a weak smile in return. “Thanks. Pure luck really. I didn’t know whether the poker was iron or not.”
Yeah, it was probably less about the iron content of the poker as it was the fact you smashed his face in with a blunt object, the nasty little voice in the back of her head sniped.
“Well, it’s a good job it did. Without it, wouldn’t have mattered how hard you hit him, he’d have kept coming back for more. Just one touch of iron and poof!” Zane spread his hands like he was mimicking an explosion. “Little beggars crumple like a house of cards.”
“Really?” She stood up straighter, feeling less like a monster. “It didn’t matter how hard I hit him? But his f-face….” She started to stammer and paused. Oh, for heaven’s sake Honor, get it together.
Taking a deep breath, she sorted herself out and tried again. “His face…there was blood and…and other stuff everywhere. I’ve never—”
She couldn’t get any further, her throat closing over at the violence she’d been capable of. Understanding flooded Zane’s expression as Baron pulled her closer. The shakes were back.
“It wouldn’t have mattered how hard to you hit him, Honor,” Baron said gently. “The iron did the damage, not you. As soon as it touched him, it’s like decay? Just a lot faster, and unstoppable.”
“Yeah?” She looked between them, gaze going from one man to the other. They knew more about this kind of thing than she did, way more than she did.
“Okay, if you say so.” She released a little sigh of relief. The guilt at causing a creature’s death still remained, but at least she hadn’t…actually bashed his head in.
“I do,” Baron turned her and urged her toward the door. “Now, let’s get you settled. Catch you later, Zane.”
She waved at the other man over her shoulder and let Baron lead her where he would. She was way too tired to argue. Silence stretched out between them as he led her upstairs. Even on that short walk the precautions he’d already taken for her security were obvious. There was a guard at what remained of the front door and another on the stairs. If either were human, then she was a monkey’s uncle. There wasn’t a guard at the top of the stairs, for which she was grateful. Tension joined the silence between her and Baron with each step closer to her bedroom door.
