“Riker!” I scream, and my golems plough through the chaos.
He drops to one knee, hand on his chest. The shooter smirks—until Lander’s fist meets his temple like a thrown brick and drops him cold.
I skid in, gripping Riker’s shoulder. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine,” he grunts.
My hands shake as I push his fingers aside, braced for blood and bone?—
—and meet paper.
Thick, densely layered sheets are packed beneath his vest.
“You—” I blink. “You actually used it.”
Riker grimaces, then grins. “You gave me a stack of ‘in-case-of-emergency’ paper armour,” he pants. “Said it was stronger than Kevlar.” He winces. “Figured this qualified.”
“I never said anything of the sort, you lunatic,” I half laugh, half sob.
I peel back the vest: the front layer is shredded; a flattened bullet lies trapped like an insect in amber. His skin is unbroken, though a spectacular bruise is brewing. Relief washes through me so hard my vision swims.
“Remind me to order a full suit,” he wheezes. “Something slimming.”
“Idiot.” I swat his shoulder.
My golems stand sentinel over the four vampires, paper fists poised to pulp spines if necessary.
Lander, breathing hard, has the last conscious foe on his knees, arm wrenched high between his shoulder blades. Over the vampire’s head he meets my gaze; a glint of admiration—unless I imagine it—sparks in his eyes.
Helikesme.
“Harper? You good?”
I glance at Riker’s intact chest, at my unwavering golems. Muscles ache, lungs burn, adrenaline thrums through this new body. I roll my shoulders.
“Yes,” I say. “I think so.”
“Good.” He shoves the vampire forward. “Because once we truss these guards, we still have a councillor and a soul circle to handle.”
My stomach twists.
I snap my fingers; the golems fold like collapsing card towers until they stand just taller than me—still solid, but less of a drain. They should hold their forms until dawn. I draw back a thread of power from them, leaving the golems obedient sentries rather than full guardians; that magic will be better spent on the circle.
“You’re leaving them up?” Riker asks.
“They will stand watch,” I say. “If any of our guests twitch the wrong way, they sit on them.”
“Remind me never to make you angry,” he mutters.
Lander conjures glowing bindings that snap around wrists and ankles.
Once the final vampire is trussed and snoring beneath the combined sleep spell from my backpack, we step into the night and turn towards Knox’s house.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I am determinedto finish this. The island is clear—for now; Knox and his people are safe, hired guards trussed and warded.
All that remains are the last two mages and the circle.
