But there was no one. The Library was deserted. The nightfolk were at their Midsummer revels. The mortals were sipping champagne in punts, gazing at the fireworks over the St. Dunstan’s ball. There was only her.
Emma saw Nat across the aisle, hiding behind a bookcase. She heard Julia’s breathing beside her. Her first duty was to her friends. She was the only one with the cunning and claws to get them all out. There was barely half a room to cross. The Boar on patrol was not even looking. They might just be able to get away safely. All they had to do was keep quiet.
There was a shattering crash. With the urgency of a shivering Labrador, Jasper had squeezed his way into Nat’s hiding spot, tipping the whole bookcase over in the process. The guard turned, yelled, raised his hands. The bookcase landed on top of him. There was the crack of a severed neck. His poleax clattered to the ground.
Emma heard the first shout of alarm. Boars spilled into the central aisle, a tide of them, more than Emma had yet seen. Boots crunching in formation, file upon file of sharpened tusks and weapons scarred with use.
Eyes telegraphing murder at Jasper, Nat worked quickly to topple the next bookcases onto the coming soldiers.
Emma shoved Julia behind her. “Help Hugo and run for it—I’ll get the others out.”
“Of course you will.” With a fond smile, Julia tucked Emma’s hair back into place, out of her eyes. “You’ve become quite the hero while you were away, haven’t you?”
Emma watched her go, thinking hard. She needed to get the Boars to fall back enough that she could get the remaining mortals past them. She had to act as a distraction.
Emma leapt, a whirlwind of shadow and claws. The Boars were far more powerful, and she was afraid of them. But she was faster. She landed quick shallow scratches, which bled nastily. The world became a maelstrom of screams and bodies. Emma saw Hugo sling Richard over one shoulder like a grain sack. He and Julia reached the far door and ran through. They’d be able to lock themselves into the military room.
The Boar in front of her backed away in horror. She followed his gaze over her shoulder.
“Night above,” she said blankly.
In the center of the reading room, one Boar after another swayed and gently toppled over, like windblown meadow flowers. They were doing so because their heads had been sliced clean by the cobra-like progress of a poleax. At the other end of the weapon, Venetia’s teeth were bared in a grim smile. Her pale hair was spattered with red, and shreds hung from her ball gown.
As Venetia beheaded another Boar, Emma saw Jasper scrabble through the door. With a final vicious thrust, Venetia flung the poleax down and sprinted out after him. Emma hoped Nat had already gone. She looked around for him, but saw no sign of long legs or skinny shoulders.
Something caught her feet, and she tripped. When her eyes came back into focus, a Boar was already standing over her. She wheezed up at him. He raised his sword high with both hands, ready to bring it down into her heart.
A metal spike went straight through his throat.
The Boar’s sword clanged to the floor. Scrambling to avoid the spray of blood, Emma pushed herself backward, rasping and coughing. She collided with something and looked up to find Nat’s upside-down face peering at her. He looked rather green.
“Thank you,” wheezed Emma, resting her head against his knees for a moment.
Nat lowered the blood-tipped spear and helped her stand.
A Boar reared up in their path, a battle-ax in each hand. Emma ducked under one raised ax arm, whipping Nat after her. Long arms flailing, he managed to score the spear along the Boar’s thighs to the back of its knees.
“Oh God—sorry—well, not sorry, but—”
It dropped forward with a howl of agony, its hamstrings severed and dripping. It was enough to get them to the door. Emma pushed Nat through.
Then a cry rolled through the reading room. She turned, horror-struck. The Librarian stood over a pile of ancient books, screaming at the Boars. All alone, and they were closing in around him, but he kept roaring in their faces. She shoved the door shut on Nat and ran for the old man. She could drag him out.
But something hit her across the middle. A wall of muscle. The stink of old leather and blood. She looked up, and a Boar grabbed her by the throat.
A patch of darkness was moving outside the Library. The keen-eyed might have spied a skulk of hooded figures within.
“Were those the—” said a shadow.
A second shadow pulled it back from sight of the doors. “The Boars, yes. Quiet, foolish girl, or you’ll have them on us.”
“But what’d Emma be doinghere? I thought she’d go—”
“I am trying,” gritted a third voice, “to maintain a tracking spell. Could you stop talking?”
“Sorry, love. But if the tracker’s leading us here, are we sure the thief we’re following is Emma?”
“The ward spells on my deathsleep jar don’t make mistakes, fox girl,” the second shadow growled. “Emma’s traces were all over them. We may have found her bag in the gardens—though the Night only knows why she’d drop it there—but the trail carries on here.”
