The Final Battle

By Aya Walksfar

Newly-ascended to Matriarch of the North America Region vampires, Serena Longer must deal with Ariel, her thirteen-going-on-thirty daughter, who has by vampire law and tradition become the First Councilwoman of the North America Region.
Even in the best of times, adjusting to the new dynamics in their mother-daughter relationship would be difficult. This is not the best of times; not with the ongoing vampire war that threatens to destroy the veil of secrecy that shields vampires from human awareness. According to vampire law, failure of the Matriarch and the First Councilwoman to stop the war from unraveling the veil of secrecy will cost Serena and Ariel their lives.
Meanwhile, General of the Guardians Alexis Night Runner, Serena’s lover, has upped the pressure for them to get married. But, marriage means something very different to vampires than to humans.
While Alexis is increasingly away from the estate on military business, under the Alliance of Artemis, Guard Amber of the Werepanthers has been dispatched with a number of werepanthers to Phoenix Estate to join the vampire forces.
Serena’s powerful attraction to the sexy Were heats up during Alexis’ absences. And, regardless of Serena’s love for Alexis, the condition of vampirism imposes certain demands for blood and lust that will not be ignored.
Just days away from returning to the estate, Alexis is attacked by a werepanther and captured. By the time she escapes, her life is forever changed. Shortly after returning to Serena’s estate, Alexis is awakened to discover that Ariel has gone missing.
Torn by a failing relationship with Serena and Ariel’s disappearance, Alexis is hard put to adjust to the changes in her own life. But she must. Somehow, she and Serena must face their own demons, find Ariel, and stop Matriarch Helena Outterridge from destroying their people. The only alternative is too devastating to contemplate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aya Walksfar
• Release date: Nov 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370463046

Aya Walksfar

Born on the wrong side of life,I learned to make myself invisible, to be so quiet that no one noticed me in the shadows. My illiterate grandfather, and nearly illiterate grandmother valued books and education; consequently, they coaxed a Carnegie Librarian to teach me to read and write by age six.When I was nine years old, my grandfather was murdered; the killer never apprehended. Writing allowed me to deal with my anger and grief by changing the ending of that particular reality: I wrote murder stories.I published my first poem and my first journalistic articles around the age of fourteen. It was a time of countrywide unrest and riots.After that, I never stopped writing--poems, articles, short stories, novels.Good Intentions (first edition), a literary novel, received the Alice B. Reader Award for Excellence in 2002.Sketch of a Murder and Street Harvest have made Amazon's Top 100 Bestseller's Lists several times.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Matriarch Helena Outterridge

The dungeon room echoed with the sharp clicks of Lady Helena Outteridge’s booted feet as she paced. Her blood red robe swirled around the knee high boots whenever she spun around. Eyes blazing nearly red in her creamy white face, her nostrils flared. Dark hair swung past her slender hips. She’d have been a beautiful woman, except the lovely features of her face twisted with rage.

She came to an abrupt halt towering over a cowering vampire. He groveled at her feet. Please, Mistress...

The whip in her hand cracked. The shirt on his back split and a line of red seeped into the remains of the shredded material. "You let animals murder your superior!"

The man pressed his forehead against the cold concrete. Please, Mistress, they...they were just suddenly there.

That animal would never have reached Baskell if you had stopped it. Why else would you have been stationed at the door? Her lip curled in disgust.

I...I tried, Mistress. The wolves...they attacked. There were too many.

Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. Then why are you not True Dead?

He lifted his face just enough to gaze up at her. I...they said... He licked dry, cracked lips. The one said to...to return and to tell you....tell you that the North America territory.... His body quivered as if anticipating her rage. You...you cannot have it.

The tip of the whip slashed across his face. Stand. She bit the word out as if it tasted bitter.

Warily, the man climbed to his feet, head hanging.

Look at me.

Eyes wild with terror, he pleaded. Pl...please, Mistress.

You let those filthy animals kill the one I sent you to protect. What happened to you? Once your name was whispered in the darkness and people trembled. When did you become so weak?

Chin lifted, he gazed into her unrelenting eyes. I did not become weak, Mistress. He inhaled deeply, as if calling upon hidden reserves of strength, and his voice no longer quavered. I fought with honor. No vampire, regardless of his abilities in war, can alone overcome such large numbers of werewolves.

In less than the blink of an eye, the sword in her hand rose and fell. The vampire clamped his jaws tight and barely slanted a look at the bloody emptiness where a stub of his arm connected to his shoulder. Drained and starved for days, he no longer possessed enough strength to ash out his own blood. It streamed in red rivulets down the stub and splatted onto the stained concrete.

The sword swung again and cleaved one leg in two. Helena kicked the useless appendage aside. He balanced on the remaining leg. Hate blazed in the depths of his eyes. Last night, Mistress, I dreamed a beautiful dream. His lips peeled back from his teeth, exposing shimmering white fangs. I dreamed that you went to the New World...and met your True Death at the hands of a child.

With a snarl, she swung the sword. His head parted from his shoulders, but even as it tumbled to the floor, the grin never left his face. Growling, she snatched it off the floor and flung it. The skull shattered against the cold walls.

Chapter 2

Serena Longer

Dawn lingered three hours away when they came. City streets lay quiescent beneath the crescent moon. Though street lights cast puddles of yellow light along the sidewalk, the old Victorian house presided over an acre of land too secluded to be touched by the weak rays. Cedar privacy fence, lined with tall arborvitaes, enclosed the area around the house. Open lawn rolled like a manicured green carpet between house and fence. The new grass shone with the bluish cast of security lights.

When the black dressed figures breached the fence, the guardian at the rear of the house glanced up. Before he could call out warning, a gold-plated knife thudded into his throat. He stumbled a few feet, short sword raised as he charged. The first invader slapped the short sword aside with his longer blade. With a flick of his wrist, he thrust the blade into the guardian’s heart.

The clang of swords alerted the sentries around front. A swarm of invaders overwhelmed them as they raced along the side of the building. The youngest guardian, Teresa, had a breath’s time to telepathically broadcast before a blade sliced through her neck.

****

I jerked awake, tears streaming from my eyes. Why in the name of Goddess had they put a two-year-old vampire on guard duty?

Awakened by my distress, Alexis bolted out of our bed, short sword in hand. Her head whipped around as she surveyed the room for danger before she swung her gaze to me. What is it, Serena?

The house in Seattle—the one in Ballard--is being attacked, I gasped.

Yanking on black jeans, she darted to the dresser and pulled out a black t-shirt. Boots hurriedly tied, she grabbed a .44 mag and jammed it in her shoulder holster. Sheathed knives decorated her belt along with the cell phone. A lightweight jacket covered them. Her feet pounded down the stairs, as she yelled for Lieutenant Nikki Howitter, Captain of Artemis’ Warriors, and Lieutenant Chang of the Guardians.

Jerking on a robe, I raced behind her. The house had sprung awake. Vampires and human Warriors, in varying stages of dress, strapping on weapons as they gathered in the living room of the mansion. Ariel raced from her bedroom, sword in hand then stopped when the fighters rushed for the front door.

Her head swiveled between Lieutenant Chang and me. Finally, she settled on me. Matriarch, who was attacked?

My not-quite-thirteen year old daughter’s formality jerked my attention away from the closing door. The Ballard house is under attack. We must prepare in case that attack is merely a distraction.

Outside the van roared and gravel pinged against the undercarriage of the vehicle as Alexis tore down the driveway. Within minutes the sound of the van’s specially built engine faded down the narrow, dirt road that connected Phoenix Estate to the human world.

Chapter 3

Alexis Night Runner

The wrought iron gates gaped open. Bits of brain and bone splattered the guard shack’s window. The headless guardian, too young to ash out, slumped against the once-white front of the small building. Voices floated faintly on the night air as we ghosted toward the mansion. Another headless guardian sprawled in the center of the lawn.

Spreading out, we clung to the shadows closest to the fence, though someone had helpfully doused the outside lights. Probably from the guard shack. It was meant to be a safety feature—a warning and a way to slow down attackers without night vision. I had argued for a warning bell instead, but the Head of Family Myers refused to heed my words.

I shifted to Other Sight. Trees and bushes popped into my vision as if I had turned on a dim light.

On the front porch, the ember of a cigarette glowed orange. Shuffling feet sounded loud on the wood. The light from the living room spilled to the porch from between the not-quite-closed drapes, interrupted when a second guard ambled past. Whatever had happened was already done.

I froze, hoping Captain Nikki Howitter of Artemis’ Warriors had spotted the sentries. Arrows thudded into the chests of the vampires, answering my question. They dropped to the porch floor. Knowing the sound of bodies falling would alert the rest of the invading force, I broke into a run. Vampires poured through the door as the light inside flicked out.

Arrows hit two more vampires, missing the hearts. They yanked the gold-plated heads out, tossing them aside as they sprang from the porch and raced across the lawn.

Fangs gleaming under the weak light of a quarter-moon, one of the creatures leapt toward me. I yanked out the silenced .44. A tight pattern of holes over his heart dropped him. From peripheral vision, I caught the gleam of a blade slashing downward. I dove to the side and rolled to my feet as the blade buried itself into the dirt. Whipping my gun his way, I pulled the trigger until his head exploded in a shower of brain and bone and blood. He ashed as he fell.

The gun clicked on an empty chamber. Before I could slap in another magazine, a vampire lunged at me from the shadows. I dropped the gun and jerked a knife from my belt. The glint of blade slicing toward my neck gave me a fraction of a second’s warning. Instead of leaping backward or to one side, head lowered I charged forward.

I plunged the knife into his gut and ripped upward. My hand slammed into the dissected meat of his abdomen and I angled the knife. It sliced into the heart. His knees gave way, but his body ashed before he fell any farther.

How old were these assholes? Not only did they ash out, they wield long swords. Even the more retro of Serena’s people switched to short swords years ago. Easier to hide under a long coat.

I found my gun. Knife sheathed, I slapped in a new magazine and chambered a round. The clanging of metal on metal jerked my attention to the porch. A Warrior fought a losing battle with a vampire; her short sword no match for his longer reach. As his weapon sailed toward her neck, she ducked. The momentum of the sword jammed it deeply into a wood porch pillar. In that millisecond, the Warrior darted in and slammed a knife into the vampire’s heart. As gray ash coated her arms, she headed for the front door.

Fear weakened my legs. Damn it! She knows better than to enter a building without backup. I leapt up the stairs just as the Warrior passed the open archway into the living room. A vampire leapt out and plunged his sword in her stomach. As she fell to the floor, he lifted the weapon for a killing blow.

I tattooed a pattern of holes in his chest that staggered him back, but no far enough to save the Warrior. Sword raised, he snarled--his mouth ringed with fresh blood. Before the weapon arced down, the tip of a short sword exited his chest. Ashes floated to the hardwood to mingle with the Warrior’s blood. The clang of the sword sounded like the knell of a funeral bell.

I dropped to my knees and felt for a pulse. A faint thread skittered beneath my fingers. I rolled the woman onto her back. For a moment, her eyes cleared. Sorry...General.

You’ve nothing to be sorry for; you fought well, Warrior.

A faint smile touched her lips before she sagged in my arms.

The Warrior, who had entered through the back door with Nikki, stood over us and whispered, I wish I’d been a coupla seconds sooner.

Gently, I laid her head down and pushed to my feet. We can’t always be those couple of seconds sooner. I tilted my head and listened. Silence. It scratched its way up my back.

General, Nikki’s voice eased across the distance between us.

I waved her forward. I’ll take four fighters and head upstairs. You clear the downstairs.

She nodded. I pointed toward the fighters I wanted and headed toward the stairs on the far side of the open living room. The fighters spread out in staggered formation behind me. The stairs squeaked as I eased up them.

The upstairs hall turned to the left with nothing, except a large window to the right. Six doors lined the two-person wide corridor. I shivered as the memory of another hallway flitted through my mind. With a shrug, I tossed off the dis-ease.

The first five doors opened onto bloody chaos, scatterings of ashes, and chopped up bodies. I swallowed hard as the sixth door loomed at the end of the corridor. All of a sudden, it swung wide and the pssting of multiple, silenced guns sounded as loud as thunder.

I dove to the floor. Rolling into a prone position, I returned fire. A body thudded behind me as doors slammed open. I couldn’t look around. At a disadvantage, I angled my weapon upwards. Heads blew apart, painting the ivory cream walls a speckled reddish-black until the blood turned gray and drifted to the floor.

Blindly firing with one hand, I jumped to my feet. Shoulder ramming the nearest door, it flew open. I tumbled inside the room as a weapon strafed the hall. Bits of plaster pelted my face. A sliver of the wood doorjamb stung my upper arm. I slammed in a fresh magazine as the sound of an old window sliding up reached me.

Sonofa... I didn’t finish the curse as I darted from the room. Blasting away at the space to the right of the door, the distinct thump of a body followed as the bullets sliced through plaster and lathe.

I lunged through the open doorway, firing blind as I dove behind the bed. Popping up, I aimed at the body squatted on the windowsill. A circle appeared on his back. Another vampire shoved the already ashing body aside and dove through the window.

Warriors poured through the door, firing as fast as they could pull the triggers. Three more vampires ashed out, but another one made the leap. When silence fell, I glanced around. A belt acted as a makeshift tourniquet on the thigh of an injured Warrior. The other three Warriors appeared unharmed, except for rug burns.

Once the master bedroom and bath had been cleared, we headed cautiously toward the stairway. Footsteps milled about below us.

Nikki called up, Anyone hurt up there, General?

Yeah, but she’s able to walk.

Carpet muffled our descent. The open banister along the stairway allowed full view of the space below. One adult and five children hunched on the fabric-upholstered couches—the pitiful handful of survivors. Tears streaked the children’s faces. A grim look of determination hardened the lines of the adult’s face.

I walked over and stood in front of them. Names?

The adult’s lips quivered, but he swallowed hard and cleared his throat. His voice sounded hoarse as if grief had rasped it raw. I’m Carl Tomacha, a human donor and the donor coordinator. This is Jenny, Rosalinda, Mark, Denny—all human children. The baby is Holly, a huvam.

He unclasped his hands and dug in the pocket of his jeans. The silver medallion dangling from his hand shone in the lights a Warrior had flicked on. A smaller medallion than the ones worn by Clan Mothers, the front boasted the Family’s Crest. Engraved on the back were the words To Artemis Be Ever True. Mother.... He choked up. Sucked in a hard breath then continued. Mother Stella Myers said if I lived I was to bring the children to Phoenix Estate and give this to First Councilwoman Ariel. Should I give it to you, General Night Runner?

With a shake of my head, I said, No. She trusted you with the children and the medallion. You’ve earned the right to deliver it to First Councilwoman Ariel.

We loaded our van with the children, their clothes, and their most precious belongings. Several fighters climbed in with them, guns in hand, constantly on alert. Carl, assisted by a Warrior, pulled a van out of the garage and loaded it with the Family Head’s journal, photo albums, and jewelry. A few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, socks, underwear, and a pair of runner’s shoes were carelessly tossed into a worn backpack. It bode well that he valued the Mother’s legacy more than his own belongings.

After we drove several blocks away, we pulled over on a quiet side street with few street lights. It wasn’t long before Nikki and three of her people climbed into the van. I pulled out and headed toward the highway. In my rearview mirror, an orange-red light ate a hole in the night. From farther away, the sound of sirens echoed off buildings.

As I steered onto I-5 North, the knowledge that I had failed to keep our people safe settled in my chest—a sharp physical pain. With a fisted hand, I rubbed at it, though I knew it would be many days before it eased.

Chapter 4

Alexis Night Runner

It had been a difficult week--coming to grips with the loss of the Ballard House, settling the few survivors into the estate--and now my upcoming tour of the estates loomed in the front of my mind. I needed some down time. And, to be honest with myself, I needed time to be with Serena—the woman I loved; not the Matriarch.

After hours of coaxing, I’d finally convinced Serena that the estate wouldn’t go up in smoke if she let me take her to dinner in Seattle. When she acquiesced, I’d quickly made reservations at The Lavender House, a restaurant that boasted white linen napkins and handmade, lacy tablecloths as well as the best Northwest cuisine.

Seated at the back of the candlelit restaurant, I gazed into Serena’s spring green eyes. Once again, I wondered how I’d been so fortunate; me, a woman who’d grown up on the streets of Seattle.

I shivered. I’d come so close to losing her to Arundia’s evil machinations. I shoved the thought away. Now was no time to recall those dark days.

From where I sat, I could see out the plate glass windows at the front. The early summer night had fallen softly over the city. My attention returned to Serena as I thought about the small box in my desk drawer at the estate. I set the fragile china cup on its matching saucer. With a deep inhale, I willed my heart to slow its galloping pace. As my breath eased out, so did my anxiety. Enfolding Serena’s hand between both of mine, I kissed her knuckles one by one. When do you want to get married?

Long, chestnut hair spilled around her shoulders. A paper issued by a civil authority cannot make my commitment to you any stronger than it is already, Alexis.

I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but...

She held a hand up to stop my words. I do realize how much this means to you. And, we will get married, but not yet. Not with the ongoing war.

Abruptly, I released her hand, flopped against my chair and crossed my arms over my chest, though I knew I looked like a pouting child. Damn it! We can’t put our lives on hold indefinitely. We have no idea how long we’ll have to deal with this situation. Even if the war ended tomorrow, who’s to say another situation every bit as critical won’t develop?

She drew herself taller in her chair. This war must end soon. I won’t have my People looking over their shoulders, always wondering when the next attack will come; who will die. They can’t go on being afraid that any day, any hour they might find a loved one drained and left like garbage on the street.

Hands held up in surrender, I apologized. I’m sorry I brought it up, Serena. I brought you here to relax; so we could enjoy each other’s company. Forgive me. Leaning forward, I wrapped my fingers around hers. Tonight, I am with the most beautiful woman in the world. Let me drown in the depths of your eyes.

A smile graced her lips. And, let me drown in the depths of your malarky. Are you sure you don’t have Irish roots? The crystalline chime of her laughter shattered the tension between us like cheap glass.

The only roots I am certain about is Native American on my mother’s side. I shook my head as I let go of her hand and picked up my cup. Changing the subject. Did Ariel mention wanting to build an Olympic-size pool to help everyone stay in shape?

Brows scrunched in mock annoyance, she glowered at me. That child! First she wants a gym and an arena, so there’s some place to practice fighting and horseback riding, and now a pool?

I grinned, knowing that Serena would give Ariel anything she wanted. It wasn’t that she spoiled the child; but that she loved her without reserve. Serena once told me that money was only good if we used it to bring good to the world and pleasure to family and friends. We’d be getting a pool soon. "It would be nice to have a pool and a hot tub."

You agreed with her about the arena and the gym, too, Serena tried to pull a stern face, but a smile tugged the corners of her lips.

A slight lift of my shoulders conceded her point. They are both in nearly-constant use.

The smile Serena had tried to hide burst across her lips. I’ll ask Melissa to see to it.

Levity faded from my face. Thanks for making Melissa your admin assistant. There for a while, she was pretty despondent over the loss of her arm.

Don’t thank me. That Warrior earned her place. To be honest, I’m not sure how I managed without her. She does a bit of everything from keeping my calendar to managing the estate books. A lot like you used to do before I forced graver responsibilities on your shoulders.

Sadness settled over her aristocratic features. Seeking to distract her from painful memories, I said, Did I tell you Ri wants to send one of her panthers over to learn how to be an admin assistant from Melissa?

With a blink, she pulled away from the past. No, you hadn’t mentioned that. If Melissa is okay with it, I certainly am. She’s well aware of what must remain private and what she can share.

A basket of warm rolls arrived with our appetizers. Our discussion meandered lazily from books to gardens to whatever popped into our minds. The lightness continued during the main course and on through desert. Finally, unable to eat another bite, I leaned back in my chair and placed the napkin on the table. That was an excellent meal with excellent company. I stared across to my fiancee. How did I get so lucky?

Serena leaned forward to answer when the first explosion rocked the building.

Humans screamed, jumping to their feet. The clatter of overturned chairs competed with the panicked yells. Smoke filled the front of the restaurant. Flickers of orange flame licked across the tables closest to the shattered windows. Several bodies lay in scattered heaps. Shards of glass, some as big as a short sword glittered amid the debris. One especially long, narrow shard stuck up from the back of a human like a grotesque wind-up key.

Serena’s chair flew backward as she lunged to her feet and swirled around, intent on reaching the injured. I snagged her arm and hung on. Leaning close to her ear, I shouted, It’s a trap! We’ve got to get out of here.

I can’t leave them. Her arm swept wide, encompassing the dead, the injured, and the terrified who bolted this way and that way like startled sheep. This place is so old that once the fire catches it’ll go up like a matchbox.

I pulled the Glock from its holster. With a grim set to my mouth, I gave a brusque nod. Okay, but we do it my way.

Briefly, she bristled. I’ve led my share of battles, Alexis.

I know you have, and you are by far a better soldier than I am...most of the time. But, this attack was aimed at you. And our people cannot afford to lose you. Let me lead and if I say run, we run. I tightened my grip on her arm.

With a downward jerk of her chin, she conceded. Fine. Now, let’s help transport the injured to the back door, so they can be evacuated.

The first attacker materialized out of the smoke before we had gone five feet. He carried an automatic rifle diagonally across his chest as he scoped out the room. I knew the moment he spotted us. He stilled like a cat who had caught sight of his prey.

Shifting into Other Sight for accuracy, I raised the Glock and fired. The bullet thudded into his chest. Red blossomed around the hole. He stumbled, fell over a damaged table and landed on his back. He didn’t get up. Functioning in Other Sight, I spotted the next one before she cleared the smoky area. This time the bullet created a neat round hole in her forehead. A trickle of blood dribbled down and across her nose before she dropped with the loose-limbs of the dead. The hollow point bullets did their job, mushrooming and tumbling through the target, but not exiting to do collateral damage. Not human; but not vampire, either.

Serena leaned over the female and sniffed. Werepanther, she said before she darted forward and grabbed a dazed woman lying behind an overturned table.

I snagged the arm of the unconscious man next to her. Eyes roaming, I let Serena get ahead of me as we backed toward the exit across the restaurant, close to where we had sat.

As soon as we deposited the two, still-breathing humans next to the emergency exit, we plunged back into the increasing chaos. People slammed into us as they stampeded for the rear exit. Black smoke overwhelmed the lighter gray smoke from earlier. More orange-red flames licked along the base of the front wall. A light breeze stirred the smoke; encouraged the fire.

As we dragged more humans toward the exit, my eyes roved over the interior of the destroyed restaurant. Did they only send two? Or are they waiting for us out back?

A siren wailed through the city corridors, echoing off the front of the buildings, making it difficult to tell if it drew closer. Fire fighters entered the restaurant. Suspiciously, I watched them. Fire fighters or enemies in disguise? When they began fighting the growing blaze while others evacuated the injured, I holstered the Glock. We need to leave.

Serena nodded.

Weaving through stragglers, Serena and I exited the rear of the restaurant. As we stepped outside, a black clad figure rounded the corner of the building and opened fire. I grabbed Serena. We hit the rough asphalt of the parking lot and rolled to our feet.

A cop rounded the building, gun stretched out in two-handed grip. Put down your weapon!

The black clad figure whirled and fired. The chatter of the automatic rifle ripped the night. The officer’s head exploded in a shower of blood, brains, and bone. Unable to get a clear shot with milling humans, I yanked Serena into a run, not attempting to hide our escape route. More automatic weapon’s fire dropped three humans to the ground. Blank eyes stared toward the sky.

A police car jumped the sidewalk and skidded to a halt. Uniformed officers piled out. The chatter of the automatic weapon greeted them. As I whirled toward the attacker, his head blew apart. Blending with the thinning crowd, Serena and I hurried from the scene.

Five blocks away and free of the screaming mass, I pressed a key fob and the lights of my truck flashed. Serena hopped into the passenger side while I slid under the wheel. Not blocked by arriving emergency vehicles, tires squealed as I tore away from the curb. Within minutes of the attack, I gunned the engine and merged with the flow of I-5 traffic heading north, away from Seattle.

Serena unslung the tiny shoulder purse she had somehow hung onto and dug until she retrieved her cell phone. She punched the quick dial button for the estate and hit speaker. Captain Howitter’s calm voice came online. It required a few seconds before my numb brain realized it was a recording.

I shot a worried glance at Serena. She quickly hung up and dialed Lieutenant Chang’s cell phone. Finding no better success there, she called the landline in both the mansion and the admin building. The phones rang unanswered until they defaulted to voice mails. My foot pressed harder on the accelerator.

Stomach clenched, I concentrated on darting through the light traffic and hoped no cops appeared. After I cleared Arlington’s city limits and hit Highway 530 going east, I shoved the accelerator to the floor. Neither Serena nor I spoke.

Coming up on the road leading up to the estate traveling too fast, I whipped the wheel in a hard right. The backend of the truck nearly swapped ends with the front until I wrestled it straight. Rocks clattered against the undercarriage as we bounced through bone-jarring potholes. Switchbacks and drop-offs flashed past the headlights.

Around a bend about halfway up the mountain, three cargo vans blocked the road. Brakes locked, I skidded to a halt within inches of the closest van. Slamming into reverse, I hit the gas and the truck shot backward. Headlights killed, I spun the wheel hard and swung onto a dirt track barely wide enough to allow passage. Branches scraped the sides. A quarter of a mile along that dirt track, I shut off the truck and pushed open my door. Flipping up the backseat of the crew cab, I pulled out a couple of short swords while Serena dumped her stiletto heels and purse onto the back floor board.

The back door shut with a quiet click. Crickets chirped. Frogs sang as we scrambled through the woods. Two-thirds of the way up the side of the steep ravine, we slipped around a dark-gray boulder and into the cave that housed a special library beneath the now-rebuilt House of Females. I crept forward along the black tunnel, grateful for the ability to call on Other Sight. Having magic wasn’t always a plus—and had nearly gotten me killed several times—but there were definite perks.

As we emerged from the House