Ravenous

though it was, it was still conscious.

Sadly, fire was the only sure way to disrupt the half-opened portal. Fire disturbed the flow of energy. It also had the potential to attract a lot of attention. Holly conjured a glamour to hide the fact that a house was burning in plain view. At the same time she set wards to keep the blaze contained. The only evidence of the fire was a faint smoky smell she couldn't seem to banish. The neighbors would wake up to a vacant lot and a pile of ash.

Ben stood quietly by, as if he had lost the will to move. He just stared. Then she realized he was staring at something specific down the street, his face washing an interesting shade of white.

Holly turned. Werewolves.

They poured down the street in a silent, furry river, shadows punctuated by the flare of hunters' eyes. Muscled haunches worked as they ran, their flowing lope eating ground with the speed of nightmares. The wolves were big but lean, their legs almost delicate. Their thick coats were mostly gray, but there were black wolves and tawny ones, chocolate brown and white. All were red-tongued and brush-tailed; all had fierce ivory teeth. When they reached Holly and Ben they stopped of one accord, eerie and noiseless.

Only the huffing of their breath made them seem more than a dream.

One came to Holly, its nails clicking on the pavement. A gray one. Male. Not the largest, but clearly the one in command. It sat, ears forward.

'We have a prisoner,' said Holly.

With a lupine grin, Perry scanned Ben's face with feral yellow eyes.

Chapter 29

Running with wolves exceeded Holly's fitness plan. It was like sprinting for the bus, except it went on forever. She just couldn't keep up.

After a few frustrating blocks and a doggy huddle, the pack split into three. The largest group ran ahead. One group escorted Ben in the opposite direction, to be placed, she presumed, in a metaphorical and perhaps literal doghouse. Perry and a handful of others stayed with Holly, slowing their pace to a brisk trot as they went to rendezvous with Queen Omara.

Their journey took them back to the main part of the campus. It seemed unreal. Holly had just been up there taking classes, but she'd never been to this part of the grounds. She did her best to orient herself, recognizing the Arts Building behind her and the main lawns rimmed by the dormitories straight ahead. Their destination was a small playing field at the south end of the lawns. There Queen Omara had made her headquarters.

Long before they reached it, though, they had to stop. The wolves and hounds had formed a security cordon, marking a wide perimeter. Holly and her escort were thoroughly sniffed before they were allowed to cross. The pause was fine with Holly, who bent over, hands on knees, to catch her breath and nurse the stitch in her side. Perry butted his nose against her.

'Just a minute.' Holly gasped, straightening. 'Iron endurance isn't one of my superpowers.'

Perry bumped her again, making a doggy whine. Holly switched her attention from her aching lungs to the world around her. She began plodding forward. Now she could see the pale-faced Undead pacing the near the goalposts, making the scene look like some avant-garde sportscast with no color and less dialogue.

The creepiness quotient was in hyperdrive. The vamps seemed to be already in battle mode, moving with the sliding grace of predators, forming into shadowy clots to talk, point, and shake their heads. What are they doing? They all seemed to be facing north, watching for something.

Holly turned, and it was then that she saw that the enemy had arrived. The changeling army, complete with their packs of ghouls, emerged from between the dormitory buildings, a rolling wave of grotesquerie.

Not possible! She had kept her senses open to the ley lines. She hadn't felt any portals besides the one in the house.

But here they were.

Perry tensed, his tail going bushy. He began running for the bleachers, barking at Holly to follow. She froze for a split second, adrenaline overloading her nerves. Oh, no, oh, no, no, no! Then she sprang after him, legs pumping. The ground seemed suddenly alive with hazards, the grass bunching up to catch her feet. She had never run so fast.

The changelings came faster. They came in force, nearly beating Holly to the safety of the front lines. The wolves and hellhounds swarmed them, but numbers were against the werebeasts. For every changeling there seemed to be at least three ghouls.

Holly's eyes searched the field ahead. There was no sign of Alessandro, but she spotted Omara. The queen had thrown aside her coat, and the bright green silk of her long shift caught the cloud-mottled moonlight. Omara was on her cell phone, yelling into it. It sounded as though she were calling for reinforcements.

Perry and Holly reached the battle area, three of the changelings hard on their heels. Holly scrambled up the bleachers, praying the height would buy her safety long enough to figure out how to use her powers effectively. She couldn't just blast into the crowd without taking out friend as well as foe.

The battle had begun. Where was Alessandro?

Merda.

The guardsman ran from the Flanders house with the speed and cunning of a fox. A hundred yards beyond the house he had given Alessandro the slip, demonstrating an uncanny ability to hide where there was no real cover. Evidently the Castle guard had been granted extraordinary powers of their own.

Alessandro flew to the top of a bus shelter, his boots landing lightly on its metal framework. He scanned the south campus, searching for the gleam of the guardsman's metal breastplate. From his vantage point the lawn looked like dark water, the ring of campus lights a glittering shore. He listened, hearing distant music, the wind in the trees, but no sound of running feet. He could smell werebeasts and, from farther off, the scent of movie-house popcorn. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Which was magic in itself. The fey were at work. If he relaxed the focus of his eyes, he could see the faint blue glow that showed that a building had been magically sealed. Humans would find excuses not to leave—they would sleep longer, have another latte, or find their conversation too compelling to abandon. The north campus was covered, and the blue glow crept toward the first of the dormitories. They fey were working south.

As he looked toward the dorms, he saw what he had been looking for—the momentary flash of a tattooed sword arm flickering in and out of the shadows. Alessandro leaped into the air with an audible whoosh.

He landed in a crouch and ran hard. The dormitories had irregular walls, deep entrances, a thousand places an enemy could hide. Garbage rustled in the wind, faking the sound of a footfall, the whisper of a drawn sword.

There!

Alessandro had his blade in hand, ready. The guardsman wheeled from the shadows, the whole weight of his motion in the stroke. Their blades crashed in a two-handed parry, the shock vibrating clear to Alessandro's spine.

Where is the book? The guardsman must have set it down somewhere to free his hands for the fight. He set the thought aside. Danger gave the moment clarity, a still calm that cleared his senses of extraneous detail. The guardsman thrust; Alessandro melted out of reach, turning and driving back in with a blow of his own. His blade slid off the breastplate, skimming the man's bare arm. He smelled the spurt of blood, the sharp scent honing the moment.

Injury upped the ante. The guardsman fought back, thundering a rain of blows against Alessandro's defenses. Alessandro was forced to retreat a few steps, surprised at the guard's enormous strength. He ducked under humming metal, trying to get inside the man's defenses, but every time he was blocked.

The guardsman swung again, a furious blow that drove Alessandro even farther back. Dodging behind a bicycle rack, the guardsman snatched up The Book of Lies and whirled away, bolting across the lawn.

Alessandro sped after him. As the guardsman angled close to one of the dorms, four changelings converged