Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SERFINA
“ W hat the hell was that?” Tristan immediately inches closer to me, while Kian rushes towards the window, peering out.
Flames erupt in both of Foster’s palms as he casts quick glances in all directions, searching for the threat. Tension finds home between his brows.
“Someone’s here,” I hiss out, removing one of my blades and holding it at the ready.
I lower into a defensive crouch and prepare myself for an attack.
For a long moment, all I can hear is my own shallow breathing and the unsteady rhythm of my heart. The silence stretches—as taut as a string on a violin—and Foster slowly lowers his hands back to his sides, the flames stuttering out.
He scratches distractedly at the nape of his neck. “I don’t think?—”
The wall behind us explodes in a torrential rainfall of glass and wood.
Tristan lunges at me and Kian and forces us both to the ground, protecting us with his body. Foster releases a grunt of pain from somewhere in the distance.
“What the hell?” Kian wheezes as he attempts to stand, but Tristan remains where he is, protecting the two of us from the worst of the falling debris.
“Are you okay?” I ask desperately, speaking to all three of them at once.
“Yeah, I’m fine. What the hell was that?” Foster asks. His voice sounds pained, but he’s alive.
Relief slams into me, almost staggering in its intensity.
“Tristan?” I ask, when the wolf shifter remains silent.
He simply lets out an agonized groan and flops off of us and onto his back, his legs and arms sprawled in every direction. Blood mats his reddish-brown hair to his forehead and trickles down his cheek.
“Trist!” Kian jumps to his feet and immediately runs towards his fallen cousin.
Tristan waves him away with a negligent flick of his wrist.
“I’m fine,” he assures us, sitting upright and cracking his neck. “I think I broke every bone in my body. But other than that? I’m good.”
Now that I know my three mates are okay, I can assess the situation.
Tristan and Foster are both hurt, though not horribly.
And someone just exploded the library wall.
We’re under attack.
The errant thought bursts to life in my subconscious, and suddenly, it’s the only thing I can focus on.
Who the hell is it?
Did someone follow us here?
I jump onto the balls of my feet and squint at the collapsed wall. It’s hard to see through all of the dirt and dust blowing in every direction.
A piece of my heart aches at the sight of so many destroyed books—so much knowledge…lost. How could someone do such a thing? At least the stained-glass window survived the blast. For some reason, I feel as if it’s important. Immensely so. Yet I can’t put my finger on why…
Something moves just beyond the now demolished wall.
“Stay with Foster and Tristan,” I direct Kian, already stalking towards the threat.
“We’re coming with you,” Foster tells me stubbornly, and Kian and Tristan both nod in agreement.
The fire elemental struggles to his feet—favoring his right leg heavily—but manages not to topple over. Even still, he sways precariously from side to side and clutches at a wound on his thigh.
I want to protest and demand he stay behind, but I see nothing but sheer determination and steadfast resilience on his face. He doesn’t want me to face this threat alone, and I know that if the situations were reversed, I would do the same thing for him and the others, regardless of any injuries I may have sustained.
I don’t ever want to be relegated to the sidelines, so I won’t do that to my mates. They know their bodies and their capabilities. If they think they’re able to fight, then I’ll trust their judgment and stand by their side.
I give all three men a curt nod. “If any of you die, I’ll find a way to bring you back to life just to kill you all over again. Painfully. And with a variety of weapons.”
Kian, who’s helping Tristan to his feet, manages a weak smile. “Kinky.”
Pebbles and destroyed books crunch underneath my feet as I move towards the gaping hole in the wall. Outside, I can see a rapidly darkening sky, a stain of purplish gray over a splotchy violet canvas.
The moment my foot touches the grass, something tackles me from the side. I roll my body at the same time and jab at the attacker with my blade. I don’t have a good angle, but right now, it doesn’t matter. I just need to get the person off of me first and foremost. Then, I can worry about killing him or her.
A fist collides with my cheek, sending waves of white-hot agony spiraling through me.
Mother fucker .
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the attacker hisses in a deceptively high-pitched, feminine voice.
Those are fighting words if I ever heard them.
I arch my neck and headbutt her as hard as I can. She releases a cry of pain and instinctively lifts her hands to cup her broken nose. I use her momentary lapse of concentration to my advantage and roll us over so she’s now on the ground with me straddling her. I hold my blade to her throat.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand, applying just enough pressure for blood to well, a startling shade of red against…blue skin.
Wait a minute.
I gape at the woman in disbelief.
She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever seen before. Her luminescent skin seems to shimmer in the waning sunlight, the light blue interspersed here and there with dark gills. Yes, gills . Actual fucking gills, like you would see on a fish or the Little Mermaid. When she snarls at me, the fins on both of her cheeks move and dilate.
“Get off of me.” She bucks her hips, attempting to force me off of her, but I simply apply a little more pressure to the knife against her throat.
She freezes instantly.
“Not without answers.”
“I believe it’s you who should be giving us answers,” a deep, angry voice says from directly behind me.
Oh…fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Not taking my knife off of the strange woman’s throat, I glance over my shoulder and feel all of the blood drain from my face.
Kian, Tristan, and Foster are on their knees, with a horde of over a dozen fae surrounding them. Each of my mates has a sword pointed at his throat.
Fuckity fuck.
I swallow as I debate my next option.
Can I take on twelve-plus men and women?
I scan the crowd, and my unease only grows, corroding away my stomach lining like acid.
It’s hard to see all of the attackers in the fading light, but the ones I can see make me cold to the core. They’re large—larger than an average fae—and wear clothes that seem to have been made out of animal furs and bones. They’re rugged, barbaric, almost savage in appearance, and a pang of fear cascades through me.
One of them—the largest of the bunch—has a face that resembles that of a bear, with tiny ears protruding from the top of his head and fur growing on his face and arms. Another has spiderwebs between all of her fingers and a nest of insects in her pitch-black hair. A third blinks at me—with all three of his eyes.
What the hell is happening?
Who are these people?
Why do they look like this?
The man who spoke steps forward, his gait confident, a predator sure he can make the kill if necessary. A scowl manifests on a face that most would find attractive, at least until you get a closer look.
Scales cover both of his cheeks and forehead, the green blending in seamlessly with his tawny-brown complexion. His dark hair is long, coming to nearly his shoulders, and is pulled away from his face in a collection of elaborate braids. Yellow, slitted eyes peer back at me on a face that is just a little too small to be proportionate.
Snake eyes.
He hisses, showing me a glimpse of a long, forked tongue, and a cold chill skates down my spine.
“Tell me, little fighter.” He lowers himself to a crouch in front of me and places one finger beneath my chin, forcing my head up.
His skin is icy to the touch. Goose bumps explode on both of my arms as if I stepped outside in a snowstorm without a winter coat.
“What are you doing at my library?”