“Shhh!” Éléonore moved to the window and peeked through the gap in the curtain. The rider paused by the house, turned his horse, and tried to ride up to the porch. The ward stones shivered. The horse backed away, nearly throwing its rider. He glared at the house, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and whistled.
More riders followed, joining the first. They wore dark clothes, and their faces were grim. Some bore tattoos, some were painted up, some wore human bones in their hair. Half a dozen wolfripper dogs, big, savage-looking creatures, flanked the horses. A man on the left, scarred, with the face of a bruiser and long blond hair pulled back into a braid rode up and dumped a body onto the ground. Daisy. Mon dieu. She was pale as a sheet.
The men surrounded the lawn. One, two, three . . . Sixteen that she could see.
Éléonore’s heart sank. There would be no mercy.
“What happened?” she whispered.
“We were walking down the road to the car. Daisy was looking in her purse for the keys. That blond guy rode out and kicked her. He just kicked her right in the face!” Tulip’s voice squeaked. “She fell and yelled at me to run, so I ran—”
The scarred blond man pulled Daisy forward.
“Hush now,” Éléonore whispered.
“Do it,” he barked.
Daisy reached for the nearest stone with a shaking hand. Her cheek was bleeding. She touched the stone and tried to lift it. Magic pulsed. Daisy yelped, jerking her hand back. The slaver sank a kick into her stomach. Daisy screamed and curled into a ball. Tulip cried out, and Éléonore clamped her hand over the girl’s mouth.
The leader’s voice carried over, harsh and grating. “We don’t want you. We don’t care about you. We want the man you’re hiding inside. Daisy here says she can’t open the ward, and given as she tried, I’m inclined to believe her. It’s up to you, then. Give me what I want, and I’ll go away. It’s that simple.”
Sixteen men. Far too many. One or two, even four, she could deal with. She’d let them in and curse them, but sixteen was just too many. Thoughts skittered around in Éléonore’s head. She had to get help.
“Do you have a phone?” she whispered.
Tulip pulled a cell phone out of her pocket.
“Call Charlotte,” Éléonore whispered. “Two-two-seven twenty-one thirty.”
Tulips dialed the number with shaking fingers and thrust the phone at her.
“This is Charlotte,” Charlotte said, her voice calm.
“Where are you?” Éléonore whispered.
“At the end of the road. Luke was running late, and I just got the blood.”
“Don’t come back to the house!”
“Why? Éléonore, what’s wrong?”
“I need you to go down to the Rooneys’. Take the second fork left, then go to the end of the road. Tell Malcolm Rooney there are slavers at our house. There are sixteen of them, and they want Richard. Tell him he owes me, and that he’s got a pretty daughter and he doesn’t want them showing up at his house next. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll get the militia together and run them out of the Edge. Go, Charlotte. Go now.”
The phone beeped, and she thrust it back at Tulip.
“All you have to do is walk down and move one of these ward stones.” The slaver called out. Éléonore looked through the gap. He had pulled a knife out. The large curved blade caught the sunlight. “You know how this goes,” he called out. “I’m a peaceful man. Don’t make me do this.”
* * *
CHARLOTTE took a turn at breakneck speed. Slavers? It made no sense. Slavery had been outlawed in both Adrianglia and the Broken for centuries. But the fear in Éléonore’s voice was vivid and real.
She had to get to the Rooneys’. East Laporte had no police force, but when something threatened the entire town, the Edgers sometimes came together into a militia to meet it.
Trees flashed by her. Come on, she willed. Go faster, truck. Go faster.
* * *
“LISTEN to me.” Éléonore grasped Tulip’s bony shoulders. “They will hurt Daisy now. There’s nothing we can do about it. The ward keeps me from using magic on them, and if we try to shoot them, they’ll kill her.”
“She’s my sister!” Tulip whispered back. “If we give the guy to them—”
“They’ll murder us all. They’re lying, dear heart. They’re lying, bad, awful bastards. We have to wait until help comes.” Éléonore hugged her, wrapping her arms around the girl’s bony shoulders. “No matter what you hear, no matter what you see, you can’t go out there. We have to wait it out.”
“Hold her,” the slaver said.
Daisy whimpered.
Éléonore clamped Tulip to her. “Don’t listen. Cover your ears.”
“Last chance. Move the stone, and everyone walks away from this.”
Éléonore held her breath.
“Fine,” the slaver said.
Daisy shrieked, a high-pitched sound suffused with pain.
Éléonore chanced a look at the window. The blond slaver was holding something pale and bloody between his index finger and his thumb. Daisy writhed in the hands of two other men.
“That was an ear,” the slaver announced. “Next we’ll do fingers.”
* * *