Metal? I guess it makes sense—Considine wouldn’t have trouble breaking through wood or plaster.
A smattering of gunfire tore through the air, and I recognized Great Aunt Patsy when she shouted, “Stand down—we’ve got the factory surrounded, and Lady Gisila is dead! Surrender, and you’ll be uninjured.”
The sensation of fae magic filled my mind—obviously the guards didn’t intend to give up.
My team was clustered about twenty-five feet away from the excavation crew, fanned out around me in a protective formation, holding back the guards.
I glanced up at the closest skylight, but it was too dirty to see the night sky outside.
More cleared cement revealed more metal, eventually clearing away a roughly rectangular shape. I realized, with growing horror, that Gisila had essentially imprisoned Considine in a metal coffin.
Considine, I’m so sorry. Please be all right. Please.
In a situation like this, he might have possibly gone to sleep. That would be better for him, but how long would it take him to wake up? He’d have to wake up naturally—besides the Ancient I wasn’t sure how many other vampires alive and conscious were powerful enough to command him to wake up.
My heart sped up, and it was hard to breathe.
I can’t spiral. Stay calm. I must be in control to help Considine.
The excavation crew cleared the last of the cement. The Song slayers that were crowded around the rectangular box—trying to figure out the best way to lift it out of the ground—jumped.
Even through the shouting, gunfire, and crackles of more flash-bangs going off in other parts of the factory, I heard the dull thud of something smacking metal from the inside.
He’s awake!
“Dad.” I called.
When Dad turned in my direction I tossed him the walkie-talkie. “Please call the backup team when necessary. I don’t know how Considine is going to react, so I don’t know if I’ll have hands available,” I said.
“Understood. Good luck,” Dad said.
My hands shook as I pulled out two blood pouches from my jacket pockets—I had two more, just in case, and the excavation team had a few they intended to throw in the coffin, but if Considine wasthatstarved, everyone was in danger.
The metal coffin rocked as Considine struggled within it while the slayers used their pry bars to dig the box out of the ground.
Aunt Erin—Dad’s sister—circled the coffin. “We need bolt cutters!” She yelled. “There are about a dozen padlocks holding this thing shut!”
“Coming!” Uncle Kenny sprinted toward the excavation team, adjusting his hold on the bolt cutters so when he skid to a stop by the metal coffin, he immediately got to work cutting through the padlocks.
Orrin took several big steps away from me, and the rest of our team gave me extra space, too.
I did one last scan of the factory—as predicted, the slayers were having no problem holding back the guards. It was actually an impressive sight—the slayers in their tactical gear, mostof them wearing the blank-faced masks, methodically clearing through the factory.
We had this under control.
The biggest concern was Considine and his state of mind.
My lungs twisted in my chest, and it was difficult to breathe as I watched Uncle Kenny cut through half of the padlocks.
Please, please be okay, Considine.
“Prepare for target arrival!” A Song slayer shouted.
Most of the excavation team backed off, retreating to the back wall.
Aunt Erin and a Song slayer—each of them holding two blood pouches—stayed with Uncle Kenny as he cut through one of the two remaining padlocks.
The metal coffin rocked as Considine struggled within it, and the Song slayer struggled to stabilize it so it didn’t fall over.
