Chapter Fourteen #2
“Got it.” She nodded. Being at the dance would make it a simple matter to guard the punch bowl from unsavory characters. But she wanted to stay with Mitch, too, and help with the thugs hunting out stragglers, if she could.
“Wait, you said ‘outer doors.’ Is there a way to get to the cellar from inside?”
“I think so. You’ll have to figure that out on the fly.”
“What about you?”
The question barely left her lips when Mitch darted to the side, pulling her with him and nudging her behind a snowbank. He crouched next to her and prevented her from peeking over it with a hand on her head.
“How many do you think we’ll get to end tonight?” an unfamiliar voice asked. Tasia grimaced at the anticipation in the man’s tone.
“Ol’ Granny thinks it’ll only be a handful,” another man said. “But I’m hoping for at least thirty. Six for each of us!”
Horror froze Tasia’s eyes wide. She held up five fingers and turned to face Mitch, who looked grim.
“Can we play with ’em first?” yet another thug asked.
The second man scoffed. “Orders are to be quick. Unfortunately.”
“We can get started, yeah? It’s gonna be dark soon.”
Tasia couldn’t tell if the last voice was a fourth man or the third one again. Mitch mouthed “Stay here” and began transforming.
She nodded, then whispered, “I’ll go distract them.” As if that had been the plan all along.
Tasia stepped out before he finished shifting, not sure why she was doing so. It took several steps before the brutes eager to kill innocent villagers noticed her. She put on her most vacant smile and waved.
“Hello! Are you looking for stragglers?”
Four of the men put their hands on their weapons. The fifth thug tightened his grip on his lantern and took a step forward. “Who are you?”
Tasia opened her mouth, as curious as they were to hear what she had to say. “Grandmother thought a guide would make the process faster.”
From the eyerolls and disgruntled expressions, she knew she’d scored a point. Granny Dearest didn’t have a lot of faith in her cohorts, and they accepted Tasia’s presence as a likely outcome of that distrust.
“Figures,” a thug at the back said. Decidedly the tallest, most brutal-looking man, he had facial scars and a menacing aura to support his claim. She noted that the others kept their distance, leaving a significant gap between him and them.
“Red—the twit?” the man who seemed to be in charge muttered to his neighbor. His neighbor shrugged.
“If you’ll follow me.” Tasia beckoned with her hand.
The thugs started forward, the group straightening out in a line.
That gave her a more solid idea. Right before she turned around to lead them on, she saw a furry blur take down the last man in the line.
Mitch flew at the scary thug from the side and clamped his jaws around the man’s throat.
The others were still grumbling and didn’t react to any out-of-place noise behind them.
Though as far as Tasia could tell, the take-down was silent.
Grateful that she had a moment to control her face, she spoke over her shoulder, “The closest house is just through these trees.”
Facing forward again, Tasia moved through a congested section of trees.
She fit without trouble, but the bigger men had to slow their pace and shuffle sideways in a few places.
They reached a clearing, and on the far side, a house loomed out of the darkness.
Fear strangled her heart when she saw that there were lights burning inside.
She fervently hoped that Mitch had enough time to pick off the thugs before they got to the front door.
The house that she led them to was supposed to be empty!
At the gate, Tasia turned around to check on the thugs. Only one man remained standing behind her. In the growing dusk, she could make out a few lumps spread out in a line toward the trees. It was hard to tell if they were moved or not. Mitch was stalking the final thug.
She laid a hand against her cheek, then pointed and said, “Oh dear.”
The idiot turned around to see what she referred to and received a throat full of wolf for his troubles.
Tasia looked away while Mitch ensured that the men were all down. Perhaps she should have felt bad about it, but their delight in killing people hardened her heart against them. The heart-hardening was accompanied by a trickle of disappointment about not using her frying pan on them.
“Tasia.” Mitch’s voice was soft and warm. So was the hand he touched to her cheek.
She opened her eyes to find her protector safe, whole, and human. Without another thought, she threw her arms around him. He returned her embrace for a moment, squeezing tightly.
“I am both proud of you and so angry.” He paused to control his breathing. “I have never been more terrified in my life.”
“Sorry,” she squeaked as he somehow tightened his hug. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”
“I suppose it was. This time.” Too soon, he pulled back and said, “We need to get moving before these guys can follow us.”
“They’re alive?”
Mitch grabbed her hand and began walking at a swift pace that she could maintain, too. “I damaged their windpipes, then went back and broke at least one, if not both, hands on as many as I could.” He glanced back, but the trees had swallowed the violent aftermath.
“What about the people in the house?” Tasia asked.
“There is nobody in that house,” he said.
She tugged at his arm. “How do you know?”
“That’s Barone’s second home. He likes to flaunt his wealth by leaving faery lights glowing at all times. No fire risk, just a waste of magic.”
“Oh.”
“I happen to know he is attending the dance.” Mitch scoffed. “I have orders to stand at his side as soon as it starts.”
“You’re going to be late!” At once, Tasia heard how silly that was. “I know. Never mind.”
The faint sound of instruments warming up tinkled through the dark when the wind shifted.
She wondered if Pagona had gotten to try the famous cider yet.
The insight flashed across her brain so suddenly that she skidded to a stop on the path, cracking the frying pan against the fresh bruise and jerking her hand out of Mitch’s.
“I know how they’re going to do it!” she gasped. “Oh, sorry.” Grabbing his hand again, she hurried forward. They were within sight of the main town well and the street lights around it.
“Do what?”
“They’re going to— Who are you?”
Again, they lurched to a stop. A stranger who was too tall to be a villager stood at the edge of the lights. He wore a uniform in colors that Tasia felt she should recognize, but didn’t.
The man walked toward them. He eyed her red cloak, then dipped his head. “Miss Stone?”
“Yes? Oh! Did Prince Frank send you?”
The soldier narrowed his eyes at the title. Oops. Maybe he didn’t know that he was working with royalty.
Beside her, Mitch relaxed his shoulders when the soldier confirmed that he was a scout for the unit sent to stop the slavers. The pair showed the scout where the dance hall was and asked him to hurry in fetching the others.
Relief and worry fought in Tasia’s heart. All they needed to do was stall until the army came in to save the day. Unfortunately, there were so very many things that could go wrong between now and then.
Due to their detour through the woods, Mitch and Tasia approached the hall from the opposite direction of the front doors.
Mitch pointed toward something, and she remembered that they needed to lock more of Grandmother’s thugs in the cellar.
Windows faced them, but with the bright lights inside and the darkness out, she knew they wouldn’t be seen.
Mitch found a stout branch nearby and tiptoed over to wedge it through the handles on the cellar doors.
A raspy voice, just audible through the wood, said, “Did you hear—”
“Shut. Up,” a lower voice interrupted.
Tasia and Mitch exchanged glances, then hustled quietly around to the front doors. At the entrance, Tasia paused to let him go first. She had the feeling that waltzing in together would draw more attention than they could afford at the moment.