Fate's Edge

bracelet at Morell. The baron snapped it out of the air. His eyes widened.
    “It’s a fake!” Abubakar roared.
    The Claws of Bast surged to their feet.
    The prince pointed at Helena. “You! It was you!”
    Helena grinned, displaying even, sharp teeth. “Be careful, sirrah.” Around her, the Hounds rose. The red mane on the tall woman rose like the hackles of a pissed-off dog.
    People shifted away from them.
    “Calm down,” Morell roared. “Stay in your seats, please.”
    The prince clenched his fist.
    “There is—”
    In the aisle, the Claw of Bast jerked. His clothing tore open in a blur, and an enormous black panther leaped across the rows of seats and knocked the redheaded woman off her feet.
    “—no need to panic!”
    The panther’s massive mouth grasped the woman’s neck. Blood gushed, and her head drooped, limp.
    People fled. Bodyguards screamed, pushing their charges out the door.
    The Claws of Bast surged forward.
    Helena’s eyes spilled white lightning.
    Sebastian lunged at the panther. A curved knife flashed. Blood sprayed.
    William jumped to his feet, reached over the row of chairs, and yanked Francis out of his seat like he was a child. Audrey shot out of her chair. William plowed into the aisle, knocking people out of the way, dragging Francis. Audrey dashed after him.
    Helena’s hair stirred, as if caught by a phantom wind. The floor underneath them shuddered. White lightning whipped from her in three spinning balls. The Claws of Bast dodged. One of them ran straight into William. The Egyptian hissed like a mad cat. William opened his mouth and snarled, a raw primal lupine promise of violence and blood. The Claw jerked back, surprised. William half dragged, half carried, Francis out the side door.
    Audrey caught a glimpse of Jack’s reddish hair and saw Kaldar—he was pushing the boys out through an entrance to the left.
    “Keep moving,” Cerise barked behind her.
    A hand shoved her out into a hallway.
    “What are you doing?” Francis cried out. “Let go!”
    “Shut up!” William strode down the hallway, pulling him along effortlessly. “This way. The outside scents are stronger here.”
    They turned the corner.
    “I’ve had enough of your brutality!” Francis dug his heels in. William didn’t even notice.
    Behind them, a door burst open. Guards spilled into the hallway.
    Another door blocked their exit.
    “I demand you let me go!”
    William dropped him and hammered a kick into the door. It held.
    “Reinforced,” William said.
    “Let me!” Audrey pushed forward to the door. Her magic streamed from her. She felt the lock—a complex key tumbler . . . and two bars across the door, one at the top, one at the bottom. Two heavy bars. Damn it. “I’ll need a few seconds.”
    The guards sighted them.
    William whirled, metal spikes in his hands. He tossed two to Cerise and thrust two into the wall to the left, one high, one at the ground.
    “Wait, we can explain!” Francis said. “We’re guests!”
    Cerise jabbed her spikes into the right wall at the same heights as William’s.
    “They don’t care,” William told him.
    The guards opened fire. A hail of charged bullets filled the hallway. The spikes flashed. A pale shield of blue magic flared between them, searing the bullets in mid-flight.
    The key tumbler clicked open. Her magic focused on the top bar, trying to slide it back. Audrey strained. The bar rattled in its cradle. Heavy. Move. Move.
    “How are you doing, Audrey?” Cerise asked.
    “Need . . . a few . . . seconds . . .”
    The guards abandoned their guns. The veekings trotted forward, blades out.
    “Honey?” William asked.
    “I thought you’d never ask.” Cerise stepped forward, past the spikes.
    “Lady Candra! Where are you going?” Francis lunged after her.
    William gripped his shoulder and shoved him back. “Stay back, you fool.”
    The top bar slid back. Audrey exhaled and pushed her magic down, to the bottom. It grasped the bottom bar, tugging. It felt like she was trying to lift a car.
    Cerise reached into her skirt and withdrew a slender blade.
    The veekings pondered her for a moment—she looked absurd in her beautiful beige gown—and resumed their assault.
    Cerise leaned forward. The pointed shoe on her right foot rubbed the ground.
    “Help her!” Francis gripped William’s arm. “If you don’t, at least let me!”
    A spark of white light slid along the edge of the blade.
    The first veeking was a mere five feet away.
    Cerise