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Clean Sweep Page 19
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Page 19
We'd won.
* * *
Sean sat on the grass next to me. Blood slicked his skin. The dahaka had gotten in a few good cuts.
We watched as Arland searched the dahaka's armor. He found something, examined it closely, and came to sit next to us. In his hands was a vampire's crest. He showed it to me. "I activated it and sent a message. He's coming."
"He?" Sean asked.
"My cousin."
"How did you know?" Sean asked.
"He'd opposed the Pact of Brotherhood. Nothing forceful, just a snide comment here and there, enough to let us know he wasn't happy about it. Orig has poor impulse control. As a child, he got into fights for frivolous reasons. As an adolescent, he had to learn the hard way that women don't enjoy being assaulted. He is at his best when he is set loose on the battlefield in the ranks, but in his mind, he is the Marshal. He spoke at the feast in my aunt's honor after we buried her. It was all outrage and bluster and how we would find those responsible and make them regret ever crawling out of their mother's womb. After the funeral I saw him standing by himself. I was above him on the terrace and he thought he was alone. He was smiling. I thought it was odd at the time. I used your terminal to check with the House. They pulled his flight plans for the past six months. A month before the wedding, he'd taken a trip to Savva. The idiot had charged the House for the fuel. There is one in every family."
Sean glanced at me.
"Savva is the mercenary capital of the galaxy," I told him. "If you wanted to hire a killer, that would be the place."
Arland grimaced. "Now I'll have to mop up his mess."
"Now?" I asked.
He nodded. "I want to get this over with."
"Don't you want to heal up?" I asked.
"No, I don't." The way he said it made it clear he wanted the questions dropped.
We sat together, bleeding quietly onto the grass. I hurt in half a dozen places. Funny how in the fight I hadn't noticed, but apparently, I was all cut up to hell. The inn could heal the magical injuries but not the physical ones. Well, this would cure me of looking for trouble for at least a few weeks.
The screen door clanged. I turned around. Lord Soren, out of his armor and limping, struggled forth. He crossed the property and lowered himself on the grass next to Arland.
Arland nodded to him. "Is there a precedent for outsiders serving as witnesses?"
"Yes," Lord Soren said.
"Good."
The sky above us split. A bright red orb formed in the air and drained down in a silent, glowing waterfall of red, leaving three new vampires on the grass. The tallest looked a lot like Arland. If they were human, I'd say the cousin was about six or seven years older, but with vampires, nobody could tell.
Arland rose and walked over. "Why?"
The vampire snarled back.
"Engage your translator," Arland said. "My witnesses don't speak our language."
I leaned over to Lord Soren. "Orig isn't your son, is he?" Because that would be awful.
"No," the older vampire said. "Other side of the family."
Orig fixed Arland with a glowing stare. "This alliance, this brotherhood you and your father dragged us into. It's not good for anyone. We've had two years of peace. Two years of no raids, no challenges, and no glory. We're going soft and stale. You don't care, and I get that you don't care. You have achieved your place, but the rest of us are not as lucky. Not everyone can be the golden son. Some of us have ranks to climb."
"You had the exact same opportunities I did," Arland said. "You didn't rise through the ranks because you're an undisciplined idiot. You want to know my secret? Before you earn the right to give orders, you have to follow them. We were going to launch a joint offensive against House Lon this fall. It would've been massive and it would let us extend our influence over the entire continent. The offensive is now dead. Congratulations, Orig. You single-handedly crushed three years of planning. You brought in an outsider to assassinate your own aunt, and you've permitted him to soil your crest. It will be years before we can wipe away the stench of your foul stain from our name."
"And if I want a trial?" Orig asked.
Arland dropped his gauntlets on the grass. His breastplate followed. "You get a trial right here. You're not going back to the House to grandstand and posture. I'm the Marshal of House Krahr. I've conducted my investigation. Here, before these witnesses, I find you guilty of treason. Defend yourself."
Orig bared his teeth. The armor fell off him. "I will bury you on this planet."
"Big words. Just try to die well. Don't shame the House any further."
They clashed. No weapons, just bare hands and teeth. It was short and brutal. I really wanted to close my eyes a couple of times, but I was a witness and so I watched until Arland bit through the back of his cousin's neck. He shook his prey once like a dog shakes a rat and spat him out.
"Remove this filth."
The two vampires who had arrived with Orig collected his body. Lord Soren lumbered to his feet and followed them. Arland wiped the blood from his lips.
"Aren't you going with them?" Sean asked.
"I thought I would impose on you for just a little while longer," Arland said to me. "I really would like to shower. And to brush my teeth. I need to get the taste of family out of my mouth."
* * *
I was sitting in the foyer, trying to read a novel about angels and women who fell in love with them. The novel was great, but I couldn't sink into it. I had showered and made myself some chamomile tea, but sleeping seemed impossible.
This had been my first major clash in my own inn. I'd won, but somehow I didn't feel triumphant. I felt... spent.
Sean emerged from the kitchen and set a cup of coffee in front of me. He'd washed the blood off his face. "Hey."
"Hey," I said.
"So what's next for you?" he asked.
"Next I go on as usual," I said. "The Innkeeper Assembly may send someone to investigate, but I can hold them off. What's next for you?"
"I owe a favor to Wilmos," Sean said.
No. Suddenly I realized what was coming.
He looked at his coffee. "I'm pretty sure I know what kind of favor he wants. I thought I'd go and pay him back before he thinks something up. I'd like to see what's out there. I'd like to see Savva. Other places. You know."
I knew. I could see it in his eyes. I'd had the same look once, that exciting knowledge that somewhere just beyond the space horizon, something secret and exciting waited for you. Something you'd never seen before and probably would never see again. He'd always been looking for the place he belonged. The lure of the unknown was irresistible. "You're leaving."
"Not forever," he said. "I want to work off my debt to Wilmos. When someone mentions some planet or some gadget, I don't want to be the only one in the room who doesn't know what it is. I feel like I blundered through this thing with my eyes half shut. I want to open them and see."
Something inside me dropped. I hadn't realized how much I liked him and now he was leaving.
I could ask him to stay. He might even do it. He liked me. At least I thought he did. But he wouldn't be happy and it wouldn't last for long. The Great Beyond was calling. I knew how strong that pull was. I'd answered it and wandered around the cosmos for years before coming finally home. Time wasn't always the same there as it was here.
The words came out slowly. "The galaxy is very large. It lured away my brother. Klaus is still somewhere out there." I pointed up. "I haven't heard from him in forever. Don't be like my brother, Sean. Keep in touch."
"I'll try."
"Do you need me to open a door for you?"
Sean shook his head. "Wilmos gave me a gadget. One-way transportation to Baha-char."
"It's easy to get lost there. Be careful."
"I will," he said.
Arland descended the stairs. He was freshly showered. "I thought to stay longer, but it seems the House won't let me. I have settled my account, Lady Dina. My uncle and I were most pleased with
our stay and your discretion."
Everybody was leaving. That was a fact of the innkeeper's life: guests left. New guests would arrive. I had just made a mistake of being too involved with one of them. I wouldn't repeat it next time. "Thank you."
Arland knelt by me. "I have to go, but I will return. And when I do, I hope you will grant me the privilege of staying at your inn."
"You're welcome any time, Lord Arland."
He hesitated. "I don't suppose you would join me..."
"I wouldn't. Not at this time. I belong at the inn."
He nodded. "I reserve the right to try to change your mind."
I forced a smile.
Arland walked out the door.
Sean halted. "Do I get a good-bye kiss?"
"It will just make things harder, Sean. You chose your road. You should follow it and not look back."
He opened his mouth as if to say something, turned, and walked out. I flicked my fingers. "Terminal, please." A flat screen formed on the wall and I watched them head to the orchard. The sun was rising. They had to hurry.
The inn was safe. I had done my job. All was well.
All was well.
"What are you intentions toward Dina?" Arland asked on the screen.
"My intentions are my business," Sean said.
"Mhm," Arland said. "I have spent my spare time studying literature popular with young women of this planet. One should always study the battlefield."
Sean glanced at him. "And?"
"I suggest you give up now. According to my research, in a vampire-werewolf love triangle, the vampire always gets the girl."
"Is that so?" Sean asked.
"It is."
"In that case, may the best man win."
Arland considered it and grinned. "I can live with that."
The red glow claimed him and he vanished, sucked upward.
Sean stopped. The orchard stretched in front of him. He took something out of his pocket. Reality tore in front of him like a plastic bag pulled apart. A narrow gap formed between the trees and through it I saw the familiar busy street. Wilmos' shop shimmered in the distance.
Sean took a deep breath and stepped into the gap.
Epilogue
The phone rang. I looked up from my novel. Beast raised her head from her spot on the rug by my legs. Gertrude Hunt wasn't listed in any of the normal hotel directories. We had no website and no listed number in the yellow pages. Normally a ringing phone would be unusual, except somehow my number had gotten on to a political polls company's hit list and no amount of telling them that I was on a Do Not Call list could convince them to stop.
Another ring. I'd spent most of the day reading and drinking tea, trying to recuperate with mixed results and I didn't feel like getting up.
Another ring. Fine.
I crawled out of my chair and walked to the phone. If they asked me one more time if I approved of my congressman, I would use my powers for evil.
"Gertrude Hunt," I said into the phone.
"Dina," Mr. Rodriguez said. "How are you?"
"I'm well, thank you."
"Congratulations on taking care of your problem."
"How did you know?"
Mr. Rodriguez chuckled. "Check your mailbox."
I listened to the disconnect signal. Hmm.
I glanced at Beast. "Should we?"
She jumped up and made a circle around my feet.
I walked outside, through the heat of the afternoon, and opened my mailbox. Junk mail, pizza flyer... and a small padded envelope from Mr. Rodriguez. I pried it open and slid out a small brochure. The cover, printed in black on plain white paper said "Directory."
I knew exactly what it was. It was the listing of all of the inns issued by the Innkeeper Assembly. I opened the front page and turned to News and Changes. A single item was circled in ballpoint pen.
House Krahr of Holy Cosmic Anocracy has made it known that all inquiries regarding its members in North America are to be addressed to Gertrude Hunt Inn. This announcement comes on the heels of Wilmos Gerwar of Baha-char's endorsement of the same inn.
The words Gertrude Hunt had two and a half stars next to them.
I leaned against the oak. I had earned a half star. I could barely believe it.
In the margin of the page Mr. Rodriguez had written, "Your parents would be so proud."
I looked at the sky. They were out there somewhere.
"I'm on my way," I whispered. "Wait for me. I will find you, I promise."
The End
Acknowledgments
We started CLEAN SWEEP as a fun, for-the-love project. Every week we'd write a little bit and post the first draft online at http://demo.ilona-andrews.com/ and readers would get to comment on it. It was almost like writing in front of an audience. The hardest challenge was the story itself. In a normal novel, you can go back and rewrite the scenes. The format of CLEAN SWEEP meant there would be no second chances. Once something was posted, it was there to stay.
It is very rare when an author gets to interact with their audience to that extent. Writing Clean Sweep was a very educational experience for us. We were fortunate enough to get your input on the story as it unfolded and we feel privileged that so many of you chose to read it and comment. Your contributions and comments made the story so much better and we're are deeply grateful to all of you. There are a few people to whom we would like to extend especial thanks.
Doris Mantair for her incredible art. You can find out more about Doris at disanthus.com/.
Anne Victory for her copyedit. You can find more about Anne at her website: victoryediting.com/.
Beta Readers for their efforts to make this manuscript the best it could be: Julie Heckert, Shannon Daigle, William Stonier, Erin Oleski, Bethany Geleskie, Neal Bravin, Christian, Mary Roark, Denise Gray, Sarah Gibson, Katelin Campbell, Areerat Dallimore, Ruth Hardaway, Victoria, Milly Ward, and others.
As always, all errors of fact and grammar are our fault entirely. We hope you will join us again for the sequel to Clean Sweep starting early in 2014.
About the Authors
Ilona Andrews is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. Ilona is a native-born Russian and Gordon is a former communications sergeant in the U.S. Army. Contrary to popular belief, Gordon was never an intelligence officer with a license to kill, and Ilona was never the mysterious Russian spy who seduced him. They met in college, in English Composition 101, where Ilona got a better grade. (Gordon is still sore about that.)
Gordon and Ilona currently reside in Texas with their two children, and many dogs and cats. They have co-authored two series, the bestselling urban fantasy of Kate Daniels and romantic urban fantasy of The Edge.
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