Clean Sweep

by Ilona Andrews

  "Why?" he asked.

  "You'll see tonight." I made another hole and planted the next pearl in it. "That suit has gone to your head."

  "It's not the suit, buttercup."

  "I don't do pet names."

  "Do you do werewolves?"

  "Okay, I'm not talking to you anymore. I'm going to plant the rest of these, and if you stay very quiet, I might find a drop of compassion in my heart and dig you out before you sprout roots."

  He grinned and strained. Muscles bulged on his chest.

  "Very impressive, but—"

  Sean shot out of the hole and took off into the trees.

  Whoa.

  I tracked him with my magic. He was running like a madman, bouncing up and down off the tree trunks.

  First Arland, now him. Was it something in the air? Maybe fighting the dahaka had gotten them all excited. I didn't know and quite frankly I didn't care. I wanted to kill the dahaka and send both of them home.

  Dahaka... Thinking about the fight opened this gaping hole in my stomach that refused to close. Maybe the two of them thought they were going to die and this was their chance to go out strong. I really hoped not.

  It was a nice kiss. Very... memorable.

  If he came near me with that look again, I'd hit him upside the head and claim self-defense. No jury in the world would convict me.

  * * *

  The day slowly burned down to evening. I had set the kitchen timer and it told me it'd been exactly six hours and thirty-five minutes since I planted the pearls. They would hatch in nineteen minutes.

  In the foyer Arland sat on the loveseat, sipping mint tea. The vampire wore a full set of armor; the breastplate and the raised pauldrons made his shoulders and chest appear enormous. His weapon, a giant blood mace, lay next to him on the floor, its head solid black and crossed by glowing red lines.

  Sean sat across from him in a chair, Beast curled by his feet. Sean wore sweatpants and a dark shirt. His bare feet rested on the floorboards. He planned to go into wetwork shape and he said boots hindered his mobility. Two large machetes rested next to him. Well, one was a machete. The other looked like a hybrid of a gladius and an oversized bowie knife.

  "So crosses don't do anything against your kind?" Sean asked.

  "No," Arland said. "There is no mystical force repelling us."

  "Then why?"

  "We're forbidden to kill a creature in a moment of prayer or invocation of their deity. Well, we can, technically, but you have to do penance and purify yourself and nobody wants to spend weeks praying and bathing themselves in the sacred cave springs. The water's only a fraction warmer than ice. When one of you holds up a cross, it's difficult to determine whether you're praying, invoking, or just waving it around. So the sane strategy is to back away."

  "What about garlic?"

  "That comes from gravediggers," I told him. "When they exhumed bodies, they would wear garlands of garlic to keep from gagging."

  "Holy water?" Sean asked.

  "That charming practice originated in Byzantium," Arland said. "Your churches stored a lot of gold, so to keep the undesirables away, the priests would keep quicklime powder on hand. We're positive there were other ingredients in the powder as well, but quicklime was present in abundance. They'd toss a handful of quicklime in your face and dump holy water on you. The water reacts with quicklime, igniting and turning extremely corrosive. But no, I've dipped my hand in your blessed water before and by itself, it does absolutely nothing."

  "Where did you get the holy water?" I asked.

  "My cousin brought it as a souvenir. I did it on a dare. Logically, of course, I knew it wouldn't melt my skin off, but one can never be certain."

  I pictured a bunch of teenage vampires standing around a basin. "You touch it." "No, you touch it..." Of course, he would put his hand into it.

  My timer went off.

  "Is it that time?" Sean asked.

  I nodded and petted Beast one last time. "Guard the house. Stay inside."

  Beast whined softly. I didn't want me to go either, but I had no choice about it.

  We went out the door. Sean carried a blade in each hand. Arland carried his mace. I carried my broom. The sun had set, but its wake still diluted the sky's purple to pale yellow in the west. The moon rose, bright, huge, like a silver coin in the sky. The scent of grass and the weak aroma of burning wood from someone's fire pit swirled around me. Noises came in clear: the faint sound of our feet, the distant barking of a dog, a siren somewhere far away... The world seemed so sharp somehow. I was wearing jeans during a Texas summer evening, and still I felt cold.

  I really didn't want to die.

  "Fear is good," Sean told me.

  "Too much fear isn't good," Arland said. "Don't worry, I'll be there."

  Sean put his hand on my arm and stopped, letting Arland go forward a few steps. He leaned to me and said quietly, "Don't count on him or on me. If things don't go well, you turn around, run back to the house, and let the inn guns blow that bastard to pieces if he follows. I left my parents' number on your kitchen table. Call them if something happens. They'll help."

  Two thoughts occurred at the same time. One said "If I could get the dahaka on the grounds, I wouldn't need the guns" and the second said "He's worried enough to do this for me." That last one cut right through the fear of impending death and freaked me right the heck out.

  There was no way on Earth I could be falling for Sean Evans. The list of his shortcomings was a mile long: arrogant, unstable, bossy, werewolf... who'd saved me from dying in a Costco parking lot and who kissed like... I shut my brain off and made my lips move. "Thank you."

  Sean nodded.

  We came to the edge of the field. The Anansi pearls had grown and broken through the soil, rising a few inches above the dirt like the tops of giant mushrooms about to break free. Each of them should be the size of a small tire now, but with most of their bulk buried it was hard to tell. I hoped they were done. Sometimes there were some minor variations due to temperature. The only way to know for sure would be to break one, but once broken, they wouldn't last long in Earth's atmosphere.

  Sean stared at the pearls.

  Arland raised his eyebrows.

  "You sure about this?" Sean asked me.

  "Yes. My father's used them before."

  Sean and Arland walked out into the field. Although it was technically my property, the inn wasn't yet strong enough to claim it. The grounds ended at the field's edge. I sighed and followed the two men. The protective mantle of magic slid off me. I felt naked.

  Arland took out his crest. His fingers danced over the surface. "It's done. It's broadcasting the signal of the person I think betrayed us. The dahaka will show up soon."

  "Let's hope you're right," I said.

  A minute passed. Another. Time slowed to a crawl. Funny how long a minute can last. If you're reading a good book, it flies by. If you're holding your breath, it moves slower than a snail.

  "What if he doesn't show?" I asked.

  "He'll show," Sean said. "He wants to get paid."

  "And once he sees us, it will be a challenge," Arland said.

  We stood shoulder to shoulder. "Shouldn't we have set some traps?" I asked.

  "He's too mobile," Arland said. "He'd avoid whatever we set up and we'd stumble into our defenses in the fight. Besides, we are the trap."

  He and Sean had planted an energy disruptor a few hours ago. According to Arland, it would negate whatever energy weapons the dahaka carried, and apparently, dahakas didn't care for projectile technology.

  Sean raised his face to the moon and inhaled. His ears twitched. "Incoming. About two miles out." He glanced at me. "Dina, remember, stick to the plan, no matter how hard it is. It's a good plan and it will work."

  A shiver ran down his spine, like fire down a detonator cord. His skin split. Mist swirled around him. For a long moment his face remained human and then it too burst, bones growing, flesh stretching. His back expanded, layered with t
hick, hard muscle. He raised his new massive arms, which were covered with gray fur, and held them out. The armor burst out of his pores, sheathing the body in a tight dark sleeve. Reinforced plates formed over his abdomen. Flexible darkness covered his massive neck. He pulled his clothes off, ripping them off almost as an afterthought.

  The armor sheathed him, dark like tar, but unlike glossy tar, it swallowed the moonlight. The black turned, twisted, lightened, and a pattern of gray and blue formed on its surface, matching the trees and the grass so exactly he became practically invisible.

  "Try to keep him still," Sean-wolf growled.

  "Worry about yourself," Arland said.

  Sean nodded, sprinted across the clearing, and jumped up, scrambling up the tree. His armor shifted, adjusting, and I could no longer see him.

  A low, murmuring growl, like a dozen voices speaking at once, rolled through the trees. The stalkers were coming.

  "Just like we rehearsed," Arland said and walked over to the side.

  "I remember," I told him.

  Pale eyes ignited at the other end of the clearing. Thin shapes dashed through the trees.

  "No fear," Arland said.

  One says be afraid, the other says don't be afraid. Perfect.

  The first stalker emerged into the moonlight, an ugly, alien thing. It sniffed the air tentatively and looked at me.

  Arland stood perfectly still.

  More stalkers joined the first, condensing from the twilight. Wow. I hadn't expected this many. Alarm squirmed through me.

  The lead stalker dipped his head, unsure. Behind the horde, a dark shape rose, taller and standing on two legs. The dahaka.

  Stalkers were predators. Like dogs, like cats, like bears, they all reacted to the same behavior. It was an instinctual reaction and we were counting on it.

  I turned and ran.

  The growls behind me raised the hair on the back of my neck, whipping me into a frenzy. I dashed across the field. The noise behind me swelled. They chased me.

  I shot through the inn's boundary, sending the magic in front of me in a wide fan. The tops of the Anansi pearls cracked in unison.

  I spun around, the broom in my hand shifting into a halberd.

  More than half the stalkers ran across the field in a ragged wave, ignoring Arland. The rest lingered at the edge of the field.

  The dahaka strode out of the trees. If he called them back now, it was all over. Both Arland and Sean didn't think he would—he would want to take me out before I reached the inn and turned its defenses on him.

  Red lines ignited in Arland's armor. The blood mace whined, priming.

  The dahaka roared, the remaining stalkers echoing his voice.

  Arland snarled back, a harsh, primal challenge.

  The stalkers were almost on me.

  The tops of the pearls pulsated. Please be ripe, please be ripe...

  Arland trotted forward like a tank that was trying to build up speed.

  The first stalker crossed the boundary. I let it come.

  It leaped at me. I spun my halberd and sliced across its ribs. White blood flew. The stalkers howled in unison and sped up. That's right. Come closer.

  The injured stalker whirled and fell as tree roots wrapped around his body and throat.

  Beyond the mass of stalkers, the dahaka charged out of the trees and struck at Arland.

  The stalkers mobbed me. I cut the first, then the second, spinning the halberd around me, playing for time. Claws carved my leg. Someone ripped at my back. Now.

  The ground gave under the stalkers, sucking them in. It wouldn't hold but for a few seconds. That would have to be enough.

  The tops of the Anansi pearls burst. Spiders as big as my fist, their backs glowing with electric green, poured out of the eggs. They swarmed the stalkers. Their jaws punctured flesh, injecting lethal poison. The stalkers screeched in unison as their tissue began to liquefy.

  In the field, Arland and the dahaka clashed. The alien dwarfed the vampire, towering a full foot above Arland's head. Arland wasn't slow, but the dahaka was so fast. He snarled, turning back and forth, slicing at Arland with a short blue blade. The blows rained on the vampire, but he stood his ground. The stalkers snapped and lunged at him, their claws sliding off his armor.

  A chunk of Arland's armor fell to the ground, wet with blood.

  The vampire grunted, teeth bared. His mace connected with the dahaka's shoulder. The impact threw the dahaka back. He stumbled, then charged again. Arland braced himself. The alien turned, whipping his massive tail. It smashed into Arland, staggering him to the side.

  "Faster," I whispered to the Anansi's children. "Kill faster."

  They didn't understand my word, but they understood my tone. The spiders fed faster, gorging themselves. The stalkers inside the inn boundary convulsed, moaning. There was nothing I could do until the stalkers were dead. Both Sean and Arland had stressed to me that this was my part of the plan and it was essential I killed them all.

  Another chunk of armor flew from Arland. The dahaka was carving him out of it, piece by piece.

  Where the hell was Sean? Come on. He wouldn't chicken out. He just couldn't.

  Arland took another tail hit on the side. His head hung. He shook it slowly, as if dazed.

  "Faster," I pushed the spiders. If I moved without them, I'd lose control of the swarm. They would live just long enough to fill the Avalon Subdivision with the lifeless husks of its former inhabitants. "Hurry."

  The dahaka spun around the vampire like a bladed whirlwind. Blood drenched Arland's armor. He gasped. The dahaka sliced across the back of his legs. Arland went down on one knee.

  The largest of the spiders fell on its side. Its legs jerked spasmodically and became still. I had pushed them too far too fast. Damn it.

  The last stalker wailed and died.

  I strode across the boundary and the rest of the spiders followed me, intoxicated by my magic. Behind me the last of the stalkers sank softly to the ground, dry shells of their formerly impressive selves.

  The dahaka barked a short command. The remaining stalkers charged at me.

  The alien swung his blade, aiming for Arland's bowed head.

  I ran. The spiders surged forward, heading for the alien, and washed over the remaining stalkers.

  Three things happened at once: the dahaka struck, bringing his blade down; Arland spun out of the way; and a lean shadow appeared behind the dahaka as if by magic and sank a sword into his spine.

  The alien screamed. Sean sliced at him, cutting and slashing with his swords. The dahaka counterattacked with fast, brutal cuts, but Sean was too fast. The assassin's sword whistled through the air, cutting nothing.

  The two spiders by my feet cringed and fell over. One by one, my spider horde began to die.

  Arland rose to his feet, suddenly fast and limber, and smashed the dahaka's side with his mace. Together the werewolf and the vampire began pushing the dahaka. The blood mace whirred and struck home and for every blow of Arland's weapon, Sean landed two or three cuts. The dahaka fought back with vicious fury. Blood sprayed, and I no longer could tell whose. They kept pressing him, driving him across the clearing toward me.

  He should've been disabled by now. That was the plan. But he danced back and forth, fully mobile. At any moment, he could break away and run, and we would have to chase him. Neither Arland nor I would be fast enough. The dahaka was outnumbered and wounded. He was losing and he knew it. I could feel him teetering on the brink of a decision. If he ran, it would be all over.

  I melted my halberd in a bundle of blue filaments. It spiraled around my hands and waist, extending to sink deep into the ground behind me. I sent my magic down through it. My power streamed from me like electric current through the wire and back into the inn, forging a connection.

  I cried out. It was a small, scared noise.

  The dahaka spun and saw me, standing alone and weaponless outside the inn's boundary, my spiders dead around me. The purple eyes gleamed. In the sp
lit second he stared at me, I saw the calculation plain in those alien eyes. Sean pressed him from one side and Arland from the other. I was the only possible exit. He could maim me in passing or grab me and use me as a hostage, and either way the two men would abandon their pursuit and concentrate on helping me. It was a win-win scenario.

  The dahaka whipped around and charged at me.

  Sean chased him, but the alien moved too fast.

  I stood still. My heart was pounding too fast to count. Blood thudded through my head. The air tasted like metal.

  The dahaka came toward me, fast, unstoppable, like a train flying off the rails.

  I spread my arms and leaned forward, bringing them together, my fingers reaching for him. All of my power, everything that made me an innkeeper, moved with me. Behind me the house creaked, mimicking my movement. Every tree branch, every blade of grass, and every stray root reached forward with me. Wind bathed the dahaka like the breath of a giant clearing his lungs just before he inhaled. The alien realized it was a trap and spun around in a desperate rush to get away. Sean cut at him, but the alien batted him aside. For a second the way to his escape looked clear, and then Arland drove his massive shoulder into the dahaka, knocking him back toward me.

  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.