I made sure not to look at him. I didn’t want to know what he was thinking or feeling right now. Because I didn’t know what I was feeling myself.
“Well,” Felix said in a cheery voice. “I, for one, am glad that Lila came along. Although I bet Reginald and the pixies aren’t, given how much more food they have to fix now.”
“It probably takes them half the morning just to make enough bacon for her,” Devon chimed in, his voice taking on a lighter, teasing note.
“Half the morning?” Felix said. “They probably start cooking at midnight just to get ready for breakfast.”
“Hey!” I said, throwing a pillow at Felix. “I do not eat that much bacon.”
“Oh no,” he said, ducking it. “Just your own body weight in it. Every single morning.”
I grumbled and threw another pillow at him, but Felix laughed and batted it away, and I found myself chiming in with his and Devon’s chuckles.
We all went back to work, but a funny thing happened. I realized that I was glad they had come along, too.
It didn’t take us long to finish packing my things. I managed to stuff everything into the suitcases except for the furniture. Devon had stacked boxes three deep around the cot, the mini-fridge, the old washtub, and the other items. I didn’t know if they would disappear in the sale or not, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t need them. Not anymore. In fact, part of me wondered if I’d ever come back here again.
I looked at every single part of the basement, from the water spots on the ceiling to the cracks zigzagging through the walls to the curling linoleum tiles on the floor, trying to imprint it all on my mind, in case this was the last time I ever saw it. Maybe it was weird, but I was going to miss this place. It had been the closest thing I’d had to a home since my mom died.
“Lila?” Felix said. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
Felix took one suitcase, while Devon grabbed the other. Together, the three of us trooped up the stairs, through the storage room, and out into the main part of the library. I stopped again, staring at everything, from the shelves of worn paperbacks to the battered toys scattered on the tables in the children’s section to the old computers that lined the checkout counter. A hard lump filled my throat. I’d spent so many afternoons here with Mom, reading stories and browsing through the books together. I supposed that’s why I had decided to live here in the first place, so I could be close to the ghost of those good times.
“Come on,” Devon said. “We parked down the street.”
I closed my eyes a second to hold back my tears, then nodded and walked past him, heading toward the front of the library. It wasn’t the entrance I usually used, but it was on the side of the building closest to the street, and I didn’t want Devon and Felix dragging my heavy suitcases any farther than necessary.
The glass double doors loomed in front of me. We were fifty feet away from them. Forty . . . thirty . . . twenty . . .
Something flitted in the shadows outside, racing across the entrance and then vanishing on the other side.
I froze. “Stop.”
Felix pulled up short, almost ramming into me from behind. “What? What’s wrong?”
I peered out the glass, my hand dropping to my sword. Using my sight, I looked out through the doors again. All I saw were shadows. But someone or something had been there a second ago. A finger of unease crept up my spine, and I realized how isolated Devon, Felix, and I were in the library. It would be the perfect place for an ambush—or another assassination attempt.
“Get your phone. Call Claudia. Tell her to get down here with some guards. Right now.”
“Why?” Felix asked. “The car is right outside—”
Another shadow flitted across the entrance outside. Then another. Then another. All headed this way.
I opened my mouth to shout out a warning, but it was too late.
Guys with swords crashed through the library doors.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
One after another, seven guys stormed the library, swords out, ready to attack.
Ready to kill.
“Get back!” I screamed.
I whipped my sword out of my scabbard and stepped up to meet our attackers, even though my heart sank at the sheer number. Whoever wanted Devon dead had upped his game.
Behind me, Devon and Felix dropped my suitcases and drew their own swords, and I knew they needed another precious few seconds before they were ready.
So I charged into the men, whirling this way and that, cutting into every person I could reach. I hacked and slashed mostly at their hands and arms, trying to at least get them to drop their weapons. If any of them had a strength Talent, they could always strangle me to death with their bare hands, but with the swords, they didn’t even have to get close to kill me. If nothing else, I wasn’t going down easy, and they were going to have to work to murder me—and Devon and Felix, too.
One man howled with pain as my blade bit into his wrist. His sword slipped from his nerveless fingers, and I pressed my advantage. I twirled my sword in my hand, then wrapped both hands around the black blade, brought it up, and slashed it across his chest hard and deep. The stink of blood flooded the air, and crimson drops sprayed off the end of my sword, spattering onto the books. The man screamed again and pressed his hands to his chest, even as more blood dripped out of the deep wound. I whirled around and drew my sword back the other way, opening up another vicious gash across his chest. He fell to the floor, convulsing, and he didn’t get back up.
One down, many more to go.
Most of the men darted past me and headed toward Devon and Felix, who moved so that they were standing back to back. Devon and Felix lashed out with their swords, keeping their attackers at bay—for now.