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“You don’t have the guts! I’d find a way back—”
“I don’t think so.”
Mircea’s head came up suddenly. And I blinked, because I’d seen a lot of expressions on his face, but never that one. It was . . . frightening.
“And if you did, I’d be waiting. I had the ‘guts’ to defy you when I was newly turned, with barely any power at all. I am not a powerless boy now, Alfhild, groveling at your feet for scraps. And even when I was I beat you. And will again, unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you kill her.” He looked at Efridis. “Right now.”
“Bravo,” I heard Caedmon whisper. And then, before I could quite process what was happening, the room was filled with two clouds of power, like the ones I’d seen at the consul’s, only not. Because these were stronger, thicker, sparkling bright and white on the one hand, and a furious reddish black on the other. They clashed in the air overhead, like a thunderstorm had blown up inside the cave, something that would have held my attention more if Louis-Cesare hadn’t started toward me again.
But while there was still a knife in his hand, I didn’t get the same feeling of menace as before. He was starting and stopping, jerking and shaking, looking even worse than the troll Dorina had ridden. And then dropping onto the ground in convulsions, because he was fighting her, I realized. He was fighting!
But Alfhild was desperate, and despite having another problem right now, she was shoring up her control. Louis-Cesare was an extremely powerful vampire, but I doubted he’d ever faced an enemy like this. I didn’t know if he’d win or not.
And I guess he didn’t, either. Because the next thing I saw was him lurching to the side, near one of the crates, and snapping off a piece of wood. And stopping for a moment, to stare at me.
One last time.
“No!” I screamed. “No!” and tried to run. Forgetting that I couldn’t, and falling, slipping on my own blood.
And watching helplessly as he drove the stake straight through the heart, while the knife in his other hand came up—
And went clattering across the floor.
Dorina, I thought, seeing her shadow behind him for an instant, before she did something that caused him to slump over, in a spreading pool of dark crimson.
I stared, not understanding anything. And the world didn’t give me a chance to get a grip. Because the trolls all started this way, like they were marionettes on the same string.
“Dory!” Caedmon said, like I hadn’t already seen them. But there wasn’t a lot I could do, or Mircea, either. Because they burst through his image, making it roll away like steam on every side, and came hurtling this way.
I saw Dorina rush to meet them, but I already knew it wasn’t going to work. They were too many, and we were too weak, and whatever ward Efridis had thrown up around her brother, she’d used enough fey bones to make it impenetrable to his power.
We had no champions left.
Or so I thought. Before a bunch of massive jagged-edged bones, femurs from creatures ten and twelve and fourteen feet tall, suddenly leapt up from a pile, as if carried by an unseen hand. And the next thing I knew, the trolls were bisected and trisected and whatever it is when you have a forest of your victim’s body parts suddenly spearing through your own.
I saw White Hair’s eyes glaze over, as he hit the cave floor, along with most of his kin. But Gravel Face was made of sterner stuff. He’d been hit by at least three bone segments, but I guess they hadn’t taken out anything vital, because he kept coming, hate for me burning in his small eyes—
Until Purple Hair, immaculate in yet another catsuit, jumped out from behind a bunch of crates and slammed a knife through his skull.
Because, yeah. She was telekinetic, wasn’t she? And didn’t get the Senate seat if she didn’t kill me herself. So I wasn’t seeing a real upside here.
Until she stretched out a hand that, weirdly enough, didn’t have a weapon in it. I looked up at her, hurting and confused. And she put an arm under mine and pulled me up, while the storm crackled and hissed overhead, boiling brilliant white as Alfhild’s power was consumed.
Dizzy and agonized, I yet remembered one of Dorina’s thoughts from the vargr attack at Claire’s, one about Caedmon. That he looked fey but wasn’t, at least not entirely. And it looked like his sister wasn’t, either, because Efridis was absorbing her power easily—too easily.
We didn’t have much time.
Purple Hair stared upward, looking like she was thinking the same, as the light of more power than either of us had ever seen played over her face. And then she looked down at me. “I’ve decided Radu was right,” she said. “I don’t wanna be a senator.”
“Yeah. Me, either.”
“Let’s get out of here!”
“Wait!” Caedmon called. She scowled in annoyance. And then a whole case of weapons jumped up from the floor and hurtled for the shield around him, making his eyes blow big.
