One Fell Sweep

CHAPTER 4

I paced back and forth before the circular summoning gate. We were due to arrive in range of Earth at any moment. When we did, the empty space defined by the gate would become blood-red, I’d step into it, and then I would be home. If home was still standing.

Maud and Helen went to the stream to look at the colorful fish, but not before Maud told me I had turned into our mom and then laughed. At least she could still laugh.

“If you keep pacing, your shoes will start smoking from the friction,” Sean said.

I almost jumped. I hadn’t heard him come up behind me. I turned around and there he was, dressed in his usual jeans and a T-shirt, clean-shaven. His hair was still slightly damp. He must’ve recently taken a shower. The heavy duffel rested on his back, the small duffel was in his hands. The subcutaneous armor he had gotten from Wilmos had shrunk into swirls of tattoos and their dark edges peeked out from under his sleeves and above his collar.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he said.

I realized that I hadn’t even thanked him yesterday. I’d just grabbed Maud and walked away and then didn’t leave the suite for the entirety of the trip back. Not that it was very long—about twelve hours or so—but still.

“Thank you for coming to rescue my sister.”

“You’re welcome.”

It would help if I stopped staring at him like a fool.

“How is she?”

“Maud?” Yes, who else would he be asking about? Ugh. “She’s resilient.”

“Look at the way she stands,” Sean murmured.

When you picked up a child and held her, it was natural to pop a hip out and sit her on it. I’d seen Mom do it in the pictures where she held me or Maud. When I picked up Helen, I had unconsciously done the same thing. Maud was holding Helen so she could see the fish better, but her hips were perfectly straight. She supported her daughter’s entire weight with her arms and Helen wasn’t light. I had no idea what the average weight for a five-year-old girl was, but Helen was probably forty, maybe forty-five pounds.

It’s hard to pop the hip out while wearing armor. Maud stood like a vampire.

“It will wear off,” I said. I sounded like I wanted to convince myself.

Sean didn’t say anything.

“Are you going to stick around?” And why did I just say that?

“Where would I go?” he asked.

I was making a spectacular idiot out of myself today. I had to get to the inn. Worrying about it was driving me crazy.

“I don’t know,” I said. “The galaxy is a big place. A certain werewolf once told me that he wanted to open his eyes and see it.”

“I saw it.”

“Learn anything interesting?”

Sean’s eyes flashed with amber. “I learned that sometimes what you go looking for isn’t as important as what you leave behind.”

My face felt hot. Did I just blush? I hoped not. “What did you leave behind?” Oh, I was such an idiot.

He opened his mouth.

The doors in the far wall opened and Arland marched out. He was in full armor. His blood mace hung at his waist. He carried a large, black bag slung across his shoulders and an equally large bag in his right hand. Another male vampire, russet-haired and a few years younger, followed him, distress plain on his face.

Arland stopped by me. He didn’t look at Maud. Maud pretended she didn’t see him.

“Lady Dina.”

“Lord Arland. Thank you again for rescuing my sister and for letting us ride in this amazing ship.”

“It was a small matter,” he said. “I wanted to speak to you concerning a promise you made to me.”

What promise, when, where? “Yes?”

“You once told me that I would always find myself welcome at your inn.”

Oh, that. “Of course.”

Arland smiled, baring the edge of his fangs. “I find myself… stressed.”

“Stressed, my lord?”

“Stressed by the burdens of House matters. I find myself bending under the weight of overwhelming responsibility.”

Sean chuckled. “You live for that shit.”

Arland valiantly ignored him. “I desire a sojourn. A brief respite from the many matters requiring my attention. I do believe I’ve earned it.”

The russet-haired vampire stepped forward. “Lord Marshal, your uncle was most specific—”

Arland bared his fangs a little more. “My uncle is, of course, concerned for my well-being.”

The male vampire looked like someone had slapped his face with a fish.

“He knows the many pressures I face and he would be delighted to know I’ve taken steps to remedy my condition, isn’t that so, Knight Ruin?”

“Yes, my lord,” the russet-haired vampire said, resigned. “Lord Soren will be delighted.”

Lord Soren popped into my head in all his burly, grim-faced, older vampire glory. “I didn’t know the Knight Sergeant knew the meaning of the word.”

“His grizzled exterior hides a gentle heart.”

Knight Ruin nearly choked on air.

“You’re welcome to spend as much time at Gertrude Hunt as you need, my lord. We are honored by your presence.”

“It’s decided, then.”

The summoning gate turned crimson.

“And we’re here. How fortuitous.” Arland stepped into the red light. Sean laughed under his breath and followed him in.

Maud approached, leading Helen by the hand. “You’re letting him stay at the inn?”

“Of course.” Considering that he just flew his destroyer halfway across the galaxy for her sake, it was the least I could do.

Maud said nothing, but I could see the sigh on her face.

“It’s a big inn,” I told her. “You will hardly see him.”

She grinned at me. “I was right. You did turn into Mom.”

“Please.” I rolled my eyes.

She grabbed her bag, squeezed Helen’s hand, and stepped into the crimson glow.

I followed her.

Vertigo squeezed me. A strange sensation of flying but without moving rolled through me, rearranging all my organs, and then I landed on the grass in the orchard. Early morning colored the sky a pale pink. Against the light backdrop, Gertrude Hunt stood out, with all her endearing Victorian oddities: the balconies protruding in strange places, the tower, the sunroom, the eaves, the spindle work, the overly ornate windows, and I loved every inch of it.

The trees shivered, greeting me. Magic pulsed from me through the house to the very edges of the property and the house creaked, reconnecting. If Gertrude Hunt were a cat, it would’ve arched its back and rubbed against my feet, purring.

Still standing. Nothing out of place. I took a mental tally of the beings inside. Caldenia, Orro, Beast, and the nameless cat. Everyone is present and accounted for. Oh phew. Phew.

Maud bent over, squeezing her eyes shut for a second. “I hate those things.”

Next to her Arland stood straight, like an immovable mountain of vampire awesomeness immune to silly things like nausea. Sadly for him, my sister completely ignored him and his iron stomach. She shook her head, probably trying to shake the last echoes of the summoning gate out, straightened, and saw Gertrude Hunt.

“Dina, this is lovely.”

Helen gaped at the orchard.

The back door burst open and Beast exploded onto the lawn, black and white fur flying.

Helen’s eyes went wide and she hid behind Maud. Beast jumped into my arms, licked my face, wiggled free, and dashed around in a circle, unable to contain her canine glee.

“It’s a dog,” Maud said. “Remember the pictures?”

“Her name is Beast,” I told her. “She’s nice. If you make friends, she will guard you and keep you safe.”

The ground by me parted and my robe surfaced, the plain gray one. The inn was trying to make sure I didn’t leave again. I picked it up and slipped it on over my clothes. See? It’s okay. I’m home.

“Your face is different,” Helen said, looking up at me.

“It’s because she’s an innkeeper,” Maud said. “This house is magic and she rules it. She is very powerful within the inn.”

“You’re part innkeeper, too,” I told her. “Does it make you feel a little funny being here?”

Helen nodded.

“That’s because you’re my niece. The inn will listen to you, if you’re kind to it.”

Helen turned and hid her face in Maud’s jeans.

“Too much,” my sister said and ruffled her hair. “It’s okay, little flower. It will be okay. We’re home.”

Sean was walking away with his bags.

“Sean,” I called.

He turned around and kept walking backward.

“Come have breakfast with us.”

“When?”

“At seven.” Orro always served breakfast at seven. The least I could do was feed Sean.

“I’ll be there.”

He turned around and kept walking. He never told me what he left behind.

I watched him stride away for another breath and turned to Gertrude Hunt. The back door opened.

“Gertrude Hunt welcomes you, Lord Arland,” I said. “Please follow me to your rooms.”

Maud crossed her arms and examined the bedroom. The floor and walls were a pale cream stone. A shaggy rug, a deep comforting brown with reddish streaks, stretched by the bed. A large floor-to-ceiling window opened onto the orchard. Lamps of frosted glass shaped like inverted tulips dotted the walls. A plain bed protruded from the wall, furnished with white linens and fluffy pillows.

Maud’s bedroom in our parents’ inn was a dark place, filled with books, weapons, and oddities we all collected either from excursions to Baha-char or from regulars who occasionally brought us gifts. Dad used to joke that Maud never grew out of the cave phase. The bedroom she just made could’ve belonged in any of the vampire castles. She did add some human touches to it—the lines were softer and less geometric—but overall, if we had large delegations of vampires coming in, I’d make her fix up their quarters.

“Told you,” I said. “Like riding a bicycle.”

She frowned. “I’m rusty.”

She was a little rusty. It took her nearly half an hour to figure out what she wanted and when she pushed the inn to do it, it moved sluggishly. Maud wasn’t one hundred percent connecting to Gertrude Hunt. That was okay. It would come with time.

“Mama?” Helen stuck her head through the doorway. “I made my room.”

I’d formed adjoining rooms for them.

“I can’t wait. Let me see.” Maud hurried over.

I followed and stopped in the doorway. Helen had made a pond. The entire room was lined with stone and filled with about a foot of water. A stone pathway led to the middle of the pond, where a large simulated tree bent to form a crescent shaped structure, a backward C. A small bed rested in the lower curve of the crescent, black sheets, black pillows, and a fuzzy pink blanket. Small, narrow windows punctured the dark walls, showing a glimpse of the orchard on all three sides. Helen must’ve wanted to see the orchard on every side, so she bent physics without realizing it. Dad always said that it was much easier to teach a child to be an innkeeper than an adult, because a child had no preconceived notions about what was possible. She’d kept the windows small, though. Trees were still a little scary.

“I can’t make the fishes.” Helen’s face looked mournful.

“The inn can’t make the fish,” I told her. “But we’ll go out and buy some, okay?”

“Okay.”

Magic chimed in my head. “Time for breakfast.”

I led them down the stairs. In the kitchen Orro dashed about. Helen had already seen him and didn’t bat an eye. For some reason, trees were scary but a seven-foot-tall monster hedgehog with foot-long needles and sharp claws was totally okay.

Caldenia was already seated. Her platinum-gray hair was impeccable, as was her makeup, and her sea-foam gown. She looked every inch a galactic tyrant ready for her morning meal.

“Is that who I think it is?” Maud murmured next to me.

“It is. She has a lifetime membership.”

“I remember when we went to camp and you wouldn’t go past your waist into the lake because you were convinced there were brain-eating amoebas in there. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. When did you lose your mind?”

“When Mom and Dad disappeared. You were married and far away. Klaus wanted to keep searching. I had nothing and then the Assembly gave me this inn. It had been dormant for a very long time and it needed guests.”

“I’m so sorry,” Maud said.

“I’m a Demille.” I smiled at her. “We always manage. By the way, I didn’t forget that you dunked me into that lake. Payback is coming.”

“Bring it on.”

“Arland is coming down the stairs,” I warned her. I’d reopened the vampire wing I had built during the peace summit. The inn hadn’t absorbed it yet, so Arland had the entire palatial suite to himself.

She turned subtly.

I tracked Arland with my magic as he descended the stairs, walked through the hallway hidden from us by the wall, emerged into the front room, and finally entered the kitchen. He was out of his armor, the sign of highest trust from a vampire knight. He wore loose fitting black pants and a textured brown tunic pulled up on his forearms. His blond hair was carelessly pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Arland wasn’t just handsome, he was striking and when he smiled, it was the kind of smile that could launch a vampire armada. He was also built like a superhero: massive shoulders, defined arms, and a powerful chest, slimming down to a narrow, flat waist and long legs. Watching him walk toward us was an experience.

I glanced at my sister. Nothing. Cold as an iceberg.

“Mom!” an urgent whisper said behind us.

I turned. Helen was holding the nameless cat. The huge Maine Coon I had rescued from a glass prison in PetSmart stared at me with slightly freaked out eyes, clearly not understanding how this small human creature dared to grab him.

“He has fangs,” Helen said.

“That’s a kitty,” Maud said. “Be careful. They have sharp claws.”

“What’s his name?”

“He doesn’t have one,” I told her. I hadn’t gotten around to it. “I tell you what, you can name him.”

Helen’s eyes got almost as big as the cat’s. “I can?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to name him Olasard, after he who hunts the evildoers and rips out their souls.”

The Ripper of Souls gave me a befuddled look.

I looked at Maud.

“There weren’t a lot of kids’ books,” she said. “Melizard used to recite the heroic sagas for her.”

A gentle magic tug told me Sean was coming to the door. I went into the front room and opened it for him. Sean hadn’t bothered changing. Still jeans and a T-shirt. For some reason, I liked him just like this.

“Hi again,” I said, feeling awkward for no reason. “Come inside. We have food.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

We went to the kitchen. Normally Caldenia, Orro, and I took our meals together at a breakfast table, but given the larger company, I extended the kitchen to accommodate the big heavy table the inn pulled out of storage. Rustic, made of an ancient scarred door that must’ve at one point graced a mission or an old Texas hacienda, it was sealed with several coats of resin until it shone.

We took our seats at the table. Orro had gone the traditional American Breakfast route: stacks of light as a feather pancakes with butter melting at the top; paper-thin crepes filled with strawberries; tiny, muffin-sized apple pies with delicate dough lattices on top; hash browns; heaps of bacon and sausage; and three types of eggs, over easy, sunny side up, and scrambled. He swept by giving me the Look of Death, and retreated into the kitchen. Later I would get a lecture about not letting him know in advance that extra guests would be arriving.

“Her Grace, Caldenia ka ret Magren,” I said. “My sister Maud and her daughter Helen.”

“Letere Olivione.” My sister inclined her head. “We’re honored by your presence.”

“Honored is such a serious word, my dear.” Caldenia flashed her sharp teeth. “I’m but a quiet, country recluse now, no one important.”

Maud put eggs, a crepe, a sausage link, and a piece of bacon on Helen’s plate.

“Your regal presence elevates all surroundings with its magnificence,” Arland said. “A diamond in the rough shines ever brighter.”

“My dear boy, I did miss you.” Caldenia sipped her tea.

Helen bit a piece of bacon. Her eyes got big again and she scarfed it down and reached for the platter. Arland had reached for the bacon at the same time. They stared at each other across the table. A vampire standoff.

Helen wrinkled her face, showing him her tiny fangs.

Arland bared his scary fangs, his eyes laughing.

A low, tiny sound came from my niece. “Awrawrrawrawr.”

“Helen!” Maud turned to her. “Don’t growl at the table.”

Arland leaned back, pretending to be scared. “So fierce.”

Helen laughed, her giggles bubbling up. “Awrawrawr.”

Arland shuddered.

Helen giggled again, grabbed her mug, and hurled it at the wall. The mug shattered. I looked back. Helen’s seat was empty. The platter of bacon had vanished.

Sean lost it and laughed.

“What a delightful little girl,” Caldenia said, her eyes sparkling.

Maud looked lost. “I… She never…”

“The child has an inborn grasp of tactics.” Arland grinned.

Magic chimed, announcing a visitor. Hmm. In broad daylight? Coming in from the northwest, not the street. I’d have to meet them in the stables. I hadn’t yet collapsed the inn structure left over from the summit, mostly because I was so damn tired. It had taken so much energy to put everything where it needed to go so it would be invisible from the street, and packing it back in would take time and effort. Short term, the maintenance took less energy since everything was already formed and there. I was going to wait until after Christmas.

“Excuse me.” I picked up Helen’s plate, added one of the small apple pies to it, went into the front room, and lifted the green cloth on the side table. Three sets of eyes stared at me: one canine, one feline, and one half-human. I held the plate out. It was snatched from my hands. I dropped the cloth back down and headed to the stables through the hallway.

Sean stepped out of the kitchen and quietly followed me. I let him catch up.

“Problems?”

“Visitors,” I said.

We made our way to the stable gates.

In the field, beyond the small area of Otrokar holy ground, a green spiral sliced through the fabric of existence, unwinding from a single point into a funnel. Darkness puffed into the mouth of the funnel and withdrew, taking the spiral with it. An odd creature landed on the grass. Five feet tall, it stood on two grimy metal legs ending in metal hooves. The legs were a mess of old dented metal, gears, tiny lights, and thin tubes channeling a milky white substance. A bulbous hump protruded from its back. A tattered shroud, draped over the hump, hid most of its body. Two massive, oversized metal hands stuck out from the openings in the shroud, and, like the legs, consisted of a chaotic jumble of different parts. The creature’s folded, wrinkled neck, made of an alien rubber-like substance, seemed too long. A helmet that slightly resembled a medieval plague doctor’s face mask concealed the alien’s face. Three faceted high tech “eyes,” pale yellow and round, pierced the helmet. The whole thing looked like someone had scooped handfuls of garbage out of some cosmic trash heap and formed a vaguely humanoid creature out of it.

A Hiru. I didn’t realize any of them were left.

The thing saw us and turned, creaking. Thick lubricant squirted onto the gears, pinkish and greasy. The body clanked, ground, and moved, the metal protesting. The wind brought its noxious odor our way and I nearly gagged.

Next to me Sean had gone completely still.

“What the hell is that?”

“That’s a Hiru. They are completely harmless, but most of the creatures in the galaxy find them revolting. Please try not to gag.”

The Hiru slowly made its way to us and halted five feet from me.

I bowed my head and smiled. “Welcome to Gertrude Hunt.”

Something screeched within the Hiru, like nails on a chalkboard.

Don’t wince. Don’t vomit. Don’t offend the guest.

A tenor voice came forth, quiet and sad. “I have come with an offer for you.”

“It will be my pleasure to hear it out. Please, follow me.”

The Hiru walked into the stables, one tortured step at a time.

I led the Hiru into the front room. To do anything else would be an insult. Helen was still under the table. My niece had gone very quiet.

Maud met us in the doorway of the kitchen. She saw the Hiru and smiled. Not a wince, not a blink, nothing to indicate that she found anything about the guest distasteful.

“Would you like to share our meal?” I asked.

“No. I do not consume carbon-based compounds.”

“Is there a particular dish that I may prepare for you?”

The Hiru shook its head. The gears screeched. “Thank you for your kindness. It is not necessary.”

In my entire life I had only seen two Hirus. One stayed at my parents’ inn and the other had ground and stumbled his way through the streets of Baha-char. Creatures from all over the galaxy had given it a wide berth and not just because they found it revolting. Standing next to a Hiru was as dangerous as running into an advancing enemy on the battlefield.

I concentrated and pulled part of the wall out, shaping it to fit the Hiru’s body. “Please, sit down.”

The Hiru bent its body the way a human would when doing a squat and carefully lowered himself onto the new seat. Helen pulled the tablecloth aside, peeked out, sneezed, and vanished back under the table.

“You said you had an offer for me?”

“Yes.”

I wasn’t sure if it was his translator or his true emotions, but everything he said sounded sad.

“Do you require privacy for this conversation?”

“No. This concerns the werewolf as well.”

Sean, who had quietly parked himself by the wall between me and the Hiru, startled. “Why?”

“She may need help,” the Hiru said.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Do you know our history? Do you know of the Draziri?”

A quick glance at Sean told me he didn’t.

“A screen, please. Files on the Hiru/Draziri conflict,” I told the inn.

Arland joined Maud in the doorway. They stood side by side, each at their half of the door, completely ignoring each other’s presence.

A screen slid from the ceiling. On it a deep orange sun, darker than our own, burned, surrounded by twelve planets.

“The Hiru lived here, on the sixth planet.” I beckoned with my fingers, and the recording zoomed in on a small planet. It looked like a ball of dark smoke, its soot-choked atmosphere glowing weakly with fluorescent green. “They were an ancient civilization, capable of interstellar travel, and they mined their system and the surrounding star systems for resources. The Draziri live here.”

The image zoomed out, and a second star appeared, this one a familiar yellow color. Seven planets orbited it, the fifth one a ball of magenta, green, and blue.

“The Draziri are a relatively young civilization, a martial theocracy with a religion based on admission to afterlife following a lifetime of service and piety. They discovered interstellar travel only a century ago. The planet of the Hiru was their first stop.”

The dead hunk of the Hiru’s planet expanded, taking up half of the screen.

“We don’t know why the Draziri declared a holy war on the Hiru. They are moderately xenophobic, as are most theocracies, but they have since interacted with the rest of the galaxy and while they keep to themselves, they haven’t attempted to exterminate anyone else. We do know the Draziri invaded the Hiru star system and detonated some sort of device that caused a chain reaction in the planet’s atmosphere.”

“Millions died in one hour,” the Hiru said.

“Directly after, the Protopriest of the Draziri proclaimed the Hiru to be an abomination. The Draziri spent the next fifty years hunting the remaining Hiru across the galaxy. It is said that a Draziri who kills a Hiru is guaranteed a place in the afterlife.”

“There are only a thousand of us left,” the Hiru said. “Our species will become extinct in the next twenty cycles if we do not find a way to reproduce. To mate and raise our young, certain conditions must be met. We cannot meet them while we are being hunted. We have appealed for Arbitration, but the Draziri declined.”

And nothing would be done about it. I dissolved the screen back into the wall.

“Can’t you appeal for refuge?” Sean asked.

“We have,” the Hiru said. “The Yaok system allowed us to settle within their territory. They promised us protection. We sent the first fifty colonists, but the Draziri invaded the system and wiped us out.”

“They took staggering losses,” Arland said. “I remember reading about it as a child. Almost two hundred thousand Draziri troops died so they could kill fifty Hiru. Our strategy manuals use it as a cautionary tale about the costs of victories.”

“We are not safe,” the Hiru said.

“You are safe here,” I told him.

“Yes,” Sean said. “You are.”

His face was dark. Auul, the planet of his parents, had been destroyed too, not by an enemy but by his own ancestors. The werewolves of Auul killed their beautiful planet rather than surrender it to their enemy.

“The Arbitrator whom we had petitioned offered a solution,” the Hiru said. “We have surrendered everything we have. All the treasures we possess. We paid the price in knowledge. Everything we are and everything we were, we have given up freely.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“We have hired the Archivarius,” the Hiru said. “We have received word that the Archivarius has found a solution.”

Oh wow.

“The Archivarius is in its parts,” the Hiru said.

Sean and Arland both looked at me.

“The Archivarius is a multipart being,” I explained. “A hive mind possessing an incredible wealth of information about the universe. For the knowledge to be shared, all individual members of the Archivarius must come together in a single location. They do this very rarely and they reform only for a very brief time. The Archivarius will answer questions, but it is very selective about which questions it chooses and the price is beyond what most galactic states can pay.”

“The Draziri cannot know or find out,” the Hiru said. “They will try to stop the Archivarius from reforming. We have no safe place. The Arbitrator suggested that you might keep us safe.”

“Was he a human male? Pale yellow hair?”

“Yes.” The Hiru nodded.

George. George was ruthless, cunning, and calculating, and compassionate to a fault. He couldn’t stand by and let them die, so he sent them my way. It was an unspoken bargain. He helped me rescue my sister. In turn, he hoped I would rescue the Hiru. He would never ask me to do it. He would never expect that I repay the favor. He left the choice to me.

“The Archivarius and my people will make an effort to deliver the individual Archivarians, which are its parts, to your inn. But it may not always be possible. Some may need to be retrieved from other worlds. All will need to be kept safe. We wish to use your inn. We wish you to help us.”

That’s exactly what I thought. It broke my heart to tell him no, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

“My deepest apologies, but the security of my inn is my priority. I am bound by the innkeeper laws. These laws dictate that I keep my guests safe first and foremost. What you are suggesting --retrieving the Archivarians—would require me to leave the inn unattended. Nor am I capable of doing the retrievals. I’m an innkeeper. I’m at my most powerful here, at the inn. This is my place.”

“We have seen you rescue your sister. We have observed. We know you are capable.”

George must’ve wanted to help them desperately. I wanted to help them.

“I can’t. Doing this would make the inn a target for the Draziri and they won’t abide by the treaty of Earth. The secret of the existence of other galactic life must be kept. It breaks my heart to tell you no, but I must. I’m so sorry.”

“The treasures we have given were our most prized possessions,” the Hiru said. “Our books. Our images. Our secrets. Everything that made us. We are dying. Our culture will be gone without us. It has value. It is rare. The Archivarius prizes rare.”

I bit my lip.

“Enough for two,” the Hiru said.

“Two what?” Maud asked.

“Enough for answers to two questions,” the Hiru said. “The Arbitrator told us.”

He raised his hand. A panel on his forearm slid aside and a translucent image formed above it, woven from the tiny yellow lights. The picture of my missing parents, the one I kept hanging on the front room wall.

“Help us,” the Hiru said. “And you can ask your question.”