CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SAINT ELMO’S FIRE
Spring, 2006
Claire
The last time Claire saw her mother’s face, it was dark but for the shifting colors of the night-light she still used in her bedroom. The wall was covered in posters of unicorns and dragons, the desk scattered with fake makeup kits and stuffed animals. Her toy sword hung in the corner on a set of pegs.
Isabel Vallais barely made a sound. Only the press of her lips on Claire’s forehead stirred her from sleep. Her eyes flickered open to the sight of her mother leaning over her, her hazel eyes full of grief and love. “Shhh, go back to sleep, Bluejay.”
“Mom? Why’re you up?”
Isabel brushed a few strands of Claire’s hair out of her face. “I’ve got something to see to,” she said. “It’s important, and if I’m lucky it will come to nothing at all.”
Claire came wider awake, sitting up slightly in bed. “And if you’re not?”
Isabel closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around her daughter, squeezing her tighter than Claire could ever remember. “Then I want you to remember that Normal and Right have little to do with each other, Bluejay.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to go, but there are things that have to be done.”
“You’re coming back, right?”
Isabel’s eyes were wet, and as she ran a hand along the side of Claire’s face, the seven-year-old girl felt the magic pushing her back to sleep. She slumped back onto the bed. Her eyes closed against her will.
“… I love you, Claire…”
“Mom?”
“Mom?”
“MOM?”
Autumn, 2013
Mom.
Claire lay awake in her bed, staring up at the ceiling with its dappling of glow-in-the-dark stars. She couldn’t sleep. Not since the incident with Danielle and Autumn. Unnerving memories swirled around her waking thoughts like pale ghosts, and the numbers on the clock gleamed a red twelve-thirty. She had dance today. How the hell was she supposed to move when she was going to be so tired that she could barely stand on two feet? Come on, brain, sleep.
She would never know what her mother’s unfinished business might’ve been. Her sword had been lost since her last, mysterious task. There was no way to know how long the light had lingered in the blade after her death.
She really didn’t want to be thinking about this right now.
The edge of her bed vibrated, and she almost ignored it, until it happened a second time, and then a third. Who the hell was calling her at this hour? She blinked blearily, picking up the phone. Issa.
“Issa? Whtisit? Ssaftermidnight.”
“Claire, it’s happening,” Issa said.
“What’s happening?”
“The duel.”
Claire was suddenly awake, sitting bolt-upright in bed. “What?”
“I—” Issa started
“My father forbid it though!”
“They’ve… they’ve decided to go ahead with it anyway. My sister says Autumn demands satisfaction and that people are whispering that the Vallais don’t have the courage to back up our words with glass.”
Claire was silent for a moment at that. She hated it, but also, she understood. Talk could be lethal, even if it killed more slowly than swords.
“Claire?”
“I… yeah?”
“I’m sorry to ask this but. We need witnesses, and I… she’s my sister but—”
“I’ll do it,” Claire said.
Twin floods of guilt and excitement thundered through her veins. This was a bad idea. It was defying her father, it was dangerous as hell, it danced close with death.
And it was the siren call of adventure that she longed for. Claire’s heart rate picked up and she was already getting out of bed and reaching for her clothes. “How long do you need to get here?” She asked.
“Um, actually…” Issa trailed off.
“Actually what?”
“We’re already here. Can you get past the house’s wards?”
“Oh, for sure,” Claire said. “They’re designed to keep strangers out after dark, not keep me in.” She was moving, throwing on basic jeans and a tee-shirt before grabbing her flannel and peacoat and pushing the window open. Her room looked out over the front driveway, and sure enough, there was Danielle’s Land Rover at the bottom of the road leading up. They hadn’t approached Cliff House directly to avoid triggering its security, both ordinary and mystical. Originally, Mr. Heart had taught Claire to manipulate wards so that she could better protect anything she wanted keep prying eyes out of, like her diary or her tent in the event that she went on a camping trip. It wasn’t his fault that she’d taken the lesson and very quickly used it to subvert her father’s warding spells when she wanted to, which admittedly was rarely.
As she crouched on the roof outside her window she winced preemptively. Sorry, Mr. Heart. I have to do this for Danielle.
She scrambled her way down the drainpipe and dropped the last few feet, using her magic to cushion her fall. It worked… well enough. Her sneakers crunched on carefully placed mulch around a rosebush and she stepped around the plant to avoid the thorns. She cast a glance over her shoulder, looking up at the window of her father’s study. The light was off. At the very least, he wasn’t in there. His bedroom looked over the gardens, so if he was in there, he couldn’t see her. Claire headed for the gate at a run, using a trick Heart had taught her to let her stay out of camera pics she didn’t want to be in to mess with the security camera footage. It was awkward—she’d look like one hell of a big raccoon—but it’d do for now.
One keypad combination she’d long ago memorized, and the gate was swinging slowly open and Claire was jogging down the long driveway to the Land Rover in her sneakers. The door opened and closed, and Claire was in the back seat, her heart pounding in her ears. Issa looked pale as death.
“Thanks for doing this, kid,” Danielle’s voice was different from their drive the other day, and even when she’d faced Autumn in the street. “Hopefully it’ll be over once we’ve shed first blood and proved our honor. It’s not ideal, and I know it’ll piss his Highness off, but I can’t have the Pierces whispering that the Vallais are cowards. It won’t fucking stand.”
A chill ran through Claire’s body as they pulled out onto the road. For a moment she wasn’t sure what to say. Officially, arbitration between the families by the Council was the whole reason the governing body even existed. Claire understood that, but at the same time, the honor of her family was one of the things that protected it, and in a world like theirs, failure to stand up for your own would only make your enemies bolder.
Claire couldn’t blame her father for trying to stop it, nor Danielle for ignoring that command from her Prince. It was an impossible position.
And now Claire was hurtled directly into the center of it. Fear made her hand tremble, and she took a deep breath. I started this, she thought. The least I can do is be there for the person who now has to finish it.
Claire had been to Wright Park many, many times. As a child, her parents had enjoyed walks there, and they’d made trips to see the flowers at the domed conservatory that crowned the pastoral arboretum. The trees spread across the rectangular plot of well-kept land as the Land Rover pulled to a stop, and within the expanse of trunks, lampposts illuminated the walking paths like tiny stars hovering in the dark. The three got out, and Danielle glanced to the left as another familiar vehicle parked. Out stepped another cousin. Burke was tall and blond, his shoulders broad and his hand scarred from a duel he’d lost a few years ago. He looked over at Claire and Issa and winced. “You brought your sister and our Prince’s own daughter?”
“Claire’s directly involved in this,” Danielle said unambiguously. “It’s risky, but she’s also been cloistered for way too long. She deserves to see Autumn pay her dues.”
Burke hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough.” Looking ahead, he nodded across the grounds. “Looks like our friends are arriving. Let’s not be tardy.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You’ve written your letter?” Burke asked as they walked.
“I told Brad to deliver it to Mom if the worst happens,” Danielle said. For the first time, Claire heard her voice shake. Burke put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s just first blood. Don’t overthink things.”
“Accidents happen,” Danielle countered as they walked. “Especially with the Pierces.” She looked at Burke for a moment and said “you’ll get them home if—”
“Naturally.”
They were within hearing distance of the Pierce group, now, and looking out over the grass and walkways Claire saw Autumn standing alongside three other figures. The first wasn’t someone she recognized: a tall, very conventionally pretty woman who had the same look as Autumn. No pin, so she wasn’t a retainer. Must’ve been another member of the family. The second was a man—well over six feet—with long, lanky arms and a short-cropped beard under his dark hair. This man she recognized as Mark, Autumn’s… uncle? Either way, he was a known duelist, and she didn’t like to think about Danielle or Burke’s chances against the man, though reach mattered less where Wielder magic was involved.
The third person was Lily. She went still when she saw Claire, staring at her with a face of stone that didn’t quite hide her fear, though whether that was fear for her kin or for what could result from all of them doing this, Claire couldn’t say. We should be the ones fighting, Claire thought sharply. Not our elders. I imagine I could knock a tooth or two out of that face.
She forced herself to stay calm. That’s what got you all into this, she remembered. Well, technically it was that Lily couldn’t stop kicking Issa, but if we try to trace offense back to the very beginning, we’ll be here a very long time.
“Well,” Autumn said. “At least you’re on time.”
Danielle straightened. Claire could feel the fear emanating off both young women, even as their pride hurtled them headlong towards a cliff. “A Vallais is never late where matters of honor are concerned,” Danielle answered. Issa was shaking at Claire’s side, now, and doing her best to hide it. Claire clasped her cousin and best friend’s hand in hers. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Your sister’s gonna kick her ass.”
That didn’t seem to help much.
“Seconds,” the woman beside Autumn said. “It’s time to try a last-minute accord.”
Burke glanced at Danielle, nodded, then walked forward to the open space between the two young women. Mark did the same, and Claire was struck by how much the taller man dwarfed the shorter, which was impressive, since Burke wasn’t short to start with.
“I don’t suppose,” Burke said, “that your party is willing to withdraw their challenge? Mine is willing to let bygones be bygones if yours will apologize for attacking her and the minors under her charge.”
Mark looked down at Burke, and Claire just saw an unfeeling frost in his eyes. “Her charge used adult magic against another minor under Autumn’s care. Since Danielle insists on protecting her, the duel must go forward.”
A chill stabbed through Claire’s gut. This is my doing.
Burke nodded coldly. “First blood, then. As agreed. So be it,” he said, then walked back to Danielle. “I’m sorry, D,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you ready.”
Danielle shed her jacket and handed it to Issa. She was bare-armed, dressed in a tee-shirt and jeans, sneakers hugging the ground as she stepped forward. Autumn did the same.
“Combatants,” the woman to Autumn’s left said, “draw glass.”
Claire remembered her mother training with her own fabled blade, First Frost. According to her father, Isabel Vallais had been one of the best swords in the family. Claire hoped Danielle was as good.
Two glassblades shimmered into view as the duelists drew their swords. The dueling style favored by the families was highly formalized, divorced from vulgar brawling, or the rough and brutal combats supposedly endemic of the time before the Council was formed. Both women held single-handed swords with blades that flared wider towards the tip in a leaf-shape, the style currently fashionable among the newly blooded and bladed. The hilts were different, however. Autumn’s cross was straight, etched with a rose in the center. Danielle’s grip was slightly curved, and a swirling guard warded the front of her hand, etched with the style of leaves. Her sword was slightly longer, but that would only make so much difference in a battle between a Mender and a Physic.
“Life is wind,” Mark said, his tone shifting to high speech. “Our names are writ in water.”
“Honor is the first law,” Burke intoned the second half of the ritual proclamation. “Honor is forever.”
A terrible pause hung thick with the promise of violence.
“Combatants,” Burke said. “Commence.”
Neither moved at first. Then Autumn took two steps forward and extended her sword. The blade glowed a faint orange, the color making strange shadows among the trees. Danielle shifted to a low waiting position. Claire didn’t know the names of either, but she understood they had formal designations. Not every member of the families who bore a sword was trained in its use—for many, glassblades were akin to more powerful talismans through which they channeled their magic. Mr. Heart, to Claire’s frustration, had refused to teach her to use one in battle until she turned sixteen and the deeper mysteries were “officially” available to her, so she only knew what she’d seen at a distance.
Autumn began circling, panther-like. Danielle held her posture but slowly turned to keep the Physic from gaining a safer angle of attack.
“What,” Autumn goaded, covering her fear, “no fancy footwork this time? Afraid I’ll outmaneuver you?”
Danielle said nothing, staying low with the blade and shifting her feet only to turn. Autumn frowned, aggression warring with caution on her face. “No words to defend your family’s honor? No accusations?”
“I didn’t come here to talk,” Danielle said. “Go ahead, if it makes you feel better.”
Autumn suddenly loosed a bolt of flame at Danielle’s feet. Claire saw her cousin step back, then Autumn shot forward. There was a blur of glass and the chiming of bells in the dim light. They separated and reset. Claire couldn’t make sense of what happened. It was too fast. Nobody had bled. Claire breathed out as quietly as she could.
The combatants started circling again. Danielle’s legs wobbled for just a moment. Claire’s memories from dance class came flashing back and a sick feeling hit the pit of her stomach. She’d seen that wobble. Danielle had hurt her ankle when she shifted her footing. Oh no.
Autumn hadn’t noticed the cause, but she did note her opponent’s momentary unbalance. “Don’t trip on a rock,” she said. “I’d hate to see the ground claim your blood first, tonight. It belongs to me alone.”
“You’re sick, Pierce,” Danielle murmured.
“And yet you’re here,” came the reply.
The wind picked up, sweeping loose leaves down from the trees between the duelists. A gust blew harder, and Claire looked around, pulling her coat tighter against the sudden chill. Autumn took a step forwards, bringing her point to the center of her line.
Then, all at once, the cellphones of every person present began to scream.
First there was confusion. Both fighters paused. “Combatants, hold!” Burke yelled. Autumn and Danielle both stepped back. Claire was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Mark frowned. “Nonsense. Keep going.”
Claire pulled her phone out of her pocket. The screen was a collage of rapidly shifting images interspersed with static.
“Mark,” Burke shouted back. “Something’s wrong! Look at their swords!”
Both glassblades shimmered with a brilliant light, now, exponentially brighter than normal. The wind picked up, and Claire looked up at the sky. The tops of the trees glowed with a pale white light.
Mark took a step forward, his hand floating towards his opposite hip. “This is a trick. The Vallais are trying to get their kin out of a matter of honor while still saving face. Combatants. Commence.”
Autumn hesitated. The woman that had stood beside her was turning in a circle.
“Uncle Mark,” Autumn’s voice wavered with unease.
“I SAID COMMENCE.” Mark exploded.
Autumn took a reluctant step towards Danielle. Burke stepped forward. “Mark Pierce, a recommencement has not been mutually agreed to. Are we doing this the honorable way, or not?”
And then Claire heard the sound. It echoed from tree to tree to tree, something between an animal’s growl and a human laugh. Her hand went to the bead around her neck. Issa clutched at her shoulder. “I want to go home,” she said.
“Autumn,” Danielle directly addressed her enemy. “I will gladly settle this with you any other time, but something’s wrong. Our swords don’t do this.”
Mark drew his own sword. The glassblade blazed with the same orange light as his niece’s. “… What the fuck?”
Then Mark Pierce’s chest burst apart. Claire had a glimpse of something claw-like and pale ripping backwards out of his body. The woman screamed. Autumn and Lily screamed too. Mark’s eyes melted out of their sockets as he fell forward. The flesh followed, his disintegrating lips forming his niece’s name through liquifying vocal chords as he collapsed. A wet, half-fleshed skeleton dropped to the gravel path, its jaw hanging open.
Standing behind him, Claire glimpsed something indistinct, pale, as if the light from the glassblades was all that gave it form. Her throat closed up, her legs shaking and mind refusing to believe that the thing whose likeness she’d only glimpsed in family storybooks was real. It withdrew swiftly from the light.
Not real, she frantically thought. Not real. Isn’t real, CAN’T be real.
“What the fuck is that thing?” Danielle screamed. Burke’s sword was in his hand, blazing hunter green. “I have no idea!” he shouted, “but we need to get the kids the hell out of here!”
Something moved outside the light. Danielle spun. The thing that killed Mark swirled into form, taking the shape of Sylvia Vallais. “Oh, sweet daughter,” Claire’s aunt said. “I’m so disappointed.” Danielle froze in place. A pale claw suddenly tore outwards at her.
Autumn was there. Her sword cutting across the thing’s extended limb. It recoiled before the blade could touch it, the illusion melting away, revealing a faceless thing made of ash and pale waxen flesh. It screamed and lurched back out of the light.
“… Autumn?” Danielle gulped.
“I told you,” the Pierce woman said. “Nobody draws your blood tonight but me.”
Then something hit Autumn so hard in the side that she screamed. A wax-pale, six-foot-tall spirit that looked as if it had once been some sort of nature embodiment pulled back its immense fist for another punch, its empty eye-sockets weeping black sap. Autumn was down, Danielle standing over her. The other woman was holding Lily in her arms, shielding the other girl with her body. Burke moved towards the downed pair. “Claire, Issa,” he shouted. “Back to the car! RUN!”
Two more pale, eyeless spirits appeared from amidst the trees. Every story Claire had memorized, that her family dismissed as old nursery rhymes of monsters long gone, was running through her head. Vacant Ones. Hollowed. The Nightmare is real.
Two Hollowed swiped at Danielle. Burke parried one, Danielle blocked the other. The phones wouldn’t stop screaming.
The sound of a roaring engine filled Claire’s ears. She turned her head towards the sound. Headlights blinded her. The window of a pickup truck rolled down and someone leaned out and shouted, “Everybody get clear!”
Claire tackled Issa. The two girls hit the dirt and rolled. Tires squealed and a loud crunch echoed all around them. Claire raised her head. Danielle was dragging Autumn away from the truck while Burke stood over the woman and Lily. The truck had crashed into one of the Hollowed, sending the monster backward. The doors opened and two more glassblades blazed to light, one green, one crimson.
“Come on,” Danielle said, kneeling beside Autumn, her sword stabbed into the earth. Both of her hands glowed yellow and she pressed them to the Pierce woman’s side. “I was just starting to like you. Don’t die on me.”
“Fffffuck that hurts,” Autumn choked. “Stop it. Stop healing me and get back to the fight, you dumb bitch.”
The Hollowed appeared from nowhere. It reared up behind Danielle, one arm forming into a jagged spear of thorns. Claire screamed, clutching the bead, and threw up the most powerful shield she could possibly summon. The spear crashed into the shield and Claire felt her whole body tremble from the impact. She kept her arm extended, holding it in place with all her will.
The Hollowed reared back with its arm, only to jerk violently as the red blade carved it from hip to shoulder. It fell, disintegrating into motes of pale light.
The man with the red sword stood over all three of them, the light illuminating his face. Dark hair speckled with gray, loose and unkempt, crowned his head. Claire’s eyes flicked to the hilt of his blade.
It was stamped with the likeness of a crowned swan and sword. … That’s not possible.
“Listen to me,” the man said. “All of you. That thing is a Vacant One. It has control over any Hollowed in this area, and it’s going to use them to soften us up before it goes in for the kill. I don’t give a damn who you’re loyal to. Stay together, stay on me. Our only chance is to catch that monster in the light of our swords, force it to manifest, and cut it down. It’s going to take the form of your dearest loved ones. Do not let that stop you.”
“Who the hell are you?” Burke demanded.
“Michael Schwan,” the man said.
Burke’s eyes went wide. “The Schwans are all dead.”
“Not all of us,” Michael said, and turned towards the dark. Claire heard him murmur “Not yet.”
“We have to get the girls out of here!” the woman crouched over Lily shouted.
“No time!” the other man with the green blade said. “Get yours over here! We’ll put our backs to the wounded and the downed.” The woman and Lily followed.
“Lower the shield, girl,” Michael said to Claire. “It’s done its job.”
“I have a name.”
“Fine, what is it?”
“Claire Vallais.”
“Someone taught you young. Stay in the center of us. If it gets past us, make a dome for yourself and the wounded.”
Claire finally let the shield drop. “I don’t know how. Just a curved wall.”
“You’re a smart kid. Turn the damn thing upside down.”
That. That was more obvious than it should’ve been.
“You,” Michael gestured at Danielle. “She going to live?”
“She should,” Danielle said.
“Then get up.”
They stood with their backs to each other. Issa was crouched over her phone, furiously fiddling with the rectangle. “C’mon, c’mon.”
A cracking roar echoed through the park, and Claire watched as six more Hollowed charged out of the darkness. They moved in a coordinated fashion, setting their shoulders as they bullrushed the group. Too many things happened at once for Claire to keep track of. Her Sixth Sense screamed in her mind, the sensation of so many other Wielders calling their magic to hand, the cloying, unnatural presence of Hollowed Spirits, was almost enough to make her slam her hands over her ears and close her eyes. She gripped the bead with one hand, forced herself to keep her eyes open.
The Hollowed were nearly on the group when Michael shouted “Burn!”
Multiple bright gouts of Wielder’s Fire burst from extended hands, raking across the Hollowed as they charged. It was enough to drop two of them. Then the remaining four were so close that Claire could still see the burning empty eye sockets of the dead Spirits.
They crashed into her protectors. Everything was chaos. She saw Michael drive his red blade through the head of one. Burke dropped to one knee, Danielle was thrown back. Claire screamed as one of the Hollowed dropped its dead fist to the earth where she’d been a moment before. Danielle came up, and screaming the Vallais words, drove her yellow sword through its center of mass. The creature came apart in a flash of light.
It lasted maybe three seconds. Then there was silence as the last Hollowed dissipated. The nearest lamppost went out. Claire sucked in a breath as her Sixth Sense suddenly filled up with a terrible, all-consuming dread. “Make a circle!” Michael shouted. “Back to ba—”
Burke screamed. In the gleaming light of the blades, Claire saw her own mother, her face twisted into a look of rabid hate as her hand clutched Burke’s left arm, the flesh under her grip melting and rotting away. Isabel’s shade turned her face towards Claire, and grinned.
The other Wielders spun, and in the combined glow of their swords, the illusion shifted. For just a heartbeat, Claire saw something taller by half a body than any of them, long-limbed and cloaked in ash. A wave of despair more potent than any she’d felt in her life washed over her, and when she looked at its face, she saw only an empty, maddening void.
She saw Danielle cut at the Vacant One, and it ripped its claw away, taking Burke’s forearm off at the elbow. The sword hit dirt and gravel. Burke was on the ground, the man who’d come with Michael dropping to his knees to press his hands to his severed arm. Autumn still wasn’t up. The woman who’d come with Mark was holding Lily close, crying.
Danielle and Michael were the only ones still fighting. Everything was a blur. It moved around them, and Claire suddenly saw an ashen limb that was pale as wax, capped with two talon-like claws each a foot long. It raised high over her head, poised to strike.
Claire didn’t think. Her fingers squeezed around the bead and she snapped her other hand out, rotating the shield like Michael had told her. A shimmering dome of ice-blue light slammed down around the three girls and their weeping protector. The monster’s talons punched into the shield, piercing through the enchantment. The wicked points stopped inches from Claire’s own outstretched hand. She felt the burning cold as it withdrew its limb. Claire saw her mother’s face and heard her voice snarl “Let me in, Bluejay.”
Michael appeared behind it, ramming his sword down as hard and fast as he could. Claire heard a piercing shriek at the edge of her hearing. The Vacant One blurred to the side, and she saw a tear across its ashen flank, cinders eating at the flesh. “Claire, widen the shield,” Michael yelled. “Widen the shield!”
Claire threw everything into the enchantment, swelling it as big as she could to surround the entire group.
The thing reared back. The ground shook and the gravel outside the barrier exploded in all directions. The shield cracked, shattered. Claire hit the ground, shards of dissipating magic ripping up the earth all around her. Michael was suddenly there, holding the flap of his jacket over her and Issa and Lily.
Silence fell. The wind died. As Claire looked up at the treetops above, the glow above the highest branches receded. Their phones were no longer screaming.
Michael forced himself to his feet. He had cuts on his face. “Carlyle, is he alive?” he asked the man who’d come with him.
Carlyle rose from Burke’s side. “Unconscious, and down one forearm, but he’s going to make it.” He gestured at Autumn. “Her?”
“Broken ribs,” Danielle said, “but I did my best to mend them. It’ll be a while before she’s back up.”
“Mark,” the woman who’d protected Lily was whimpering, crawling her way across the ground towards the ruin of a skeleton. “Mark!” She collapsed into sobs at the side of the dead man. “Oh no. Oh Guides, no no no this can’t be happening!”
Claire looked away, then up at Michael. The Schwan was silhouetted against the lamplight, and Claire saw him look down. In regret or anger, or something else entirely. “Carlyle,” he moved towards the truck. “We have to go. It’s moved on and we need to give chase.”
The other man nodded.
“Wait,” Claire said. Michael hesitated mid-step.
“What.”
“You saved us,” Claire said. “I. Thank you.”
Michael hesitated for just a moment. Like he didn’t know how to react. Then he looked at Danielle and said, “You’ve got this?”
“Yes,” Danielle said. “I can see to everyone else.”
The sound of other vehicles approaching reached their ears. Cars were entering Wright Park from the road. Headlights lashed across their position. Michael and Carlyle climbed into the truck. Its engine growled to life, and by the time the other cars arrived, it was nearly out of sight. The doors to the familiar white Mercedes opened and Mr. Heart and Claire’s father got out. The latter sprinted over to her, throwing his arms around his daughter without any thought to the danger. Claire hugged him back. Issa got to her feet slowly. Behind Prince Jacob, two more retainers exited the car. Claire recognized Michelle and Rebecca.
“Is everyone alright?” Jacob asked, looking up. He hadn’t let go of her and she didn’t fight him. Everything that had just happened sank in, replaying through her mind. She started shaking.
“Michelle,” Rebecca said. “Start looking around. If that thing’s still here…”
“It’s not,” Danielle said. She knelt by Burke, who was unconscious as far as Claire could tell. “It fled unexpectedly, after putting us badly on the ropes. Mark’s dead. Autumn’s hurt, Burke’s lost his forearm, but he’s at least stable. My Prince, all of these people need to be seen to by someone with more experience than me.”
Another set of headlights lashed across the space, another vehicle pulling to a stop. Tall as a spear, her graying hair pulled into a messy bun that looked like it hadn’t yet been corrected from sleeping, Alexandra Pierce got out of the car. She was flanked by the retainer Claire recognized as Jack, and another few people who looked like they might be family. “What,” she demanded, walking towards the group, “the fuck is going on here?”
“Princess Alexandra,” Danielle started. “I can explain—”
“Danielle,” Heart said softly. “Best let our Liege handle this.”
“N-no,” Autumn’s weak voice echoed up from where she lay on the ground. “Listen to her. Aunt Alex… please… a Vacant One attacked us. Danielle… helped fight it off.”
Alexandra’s eyes widened in obvious surprise, but before she could answer, the woman kneeling over Mark suddenly spoke up. “It was Michael Schwan and Carlyle. They brought the thing here. They took this whole situation and made it worse.”
Claire’s mouth hung open as the tenuous chance at peace evaporated before her eyes.
Alexandra looked at the woman, then past her, seeing the corpse for the first time. “… Mark?” she breathed. Then she looked at the woman and said “Janice?”
“Yes,” Janice answered. “Mark is dead.” She jabbed her hand at the direction the truck had gone, pointing to Mark’s still-glowing glassblade. “And it’s all their fault. Look: his blade shimmers still in the hope of vengeance. We need to call the Adelins, and those men need to be hunted the fuck down.”