Hard Breaker Read online

  “Where are we?” Ivy demanded, looking around to see hedgerows growing up on either side of the car, effectively cutting them off from the rest of the world.

  Rose didn’t slow the car, just continued to guide it into the darkness. “Which question would you like me to answer first? The one about what is going on, or the one about where we are going?”

  “You will answer both.” Quick as a striking snake, Baen wrapped his hand around the Frenchwoman’s throat and leaned forward to growl menacingly. “Now.”

  Rose barely flinched at the feel of that huge hand threatening to snap her neck with a single motion. Man, but that woman had balls, Ivy thought. She didn’t think she could remain so calm in the same circumstances.

  Following a curve in the lane, the woman guided the small car out from between the hedges and into an open area dotted with light from the windows of a sprawling old manor house. The lane had been a private drive, and the tall rows of trees and shrubs a barrier concealing the building from the nearby roads.

  “In that case, I can tell you that we are going here,” Rose said, turning off the ignition, but keeping her hands in sight on the wheel. “This is the safe house. Just where I told you I would take you.”

  “And the reason for your hiding from my brothers?” Bean prompted, still not releasing her.

  “As I said, I needed to wait until everything was in place, until the last of the Guardians had risen. Before then, it was too dangerous to bring them all together in one place. Think of the target that would have presented to the Order.”

  “But Baen is only the sixth Guardian to wake,” Ivy pointed out, not understanding the other woman’s thinking. “There’s still one out there, only no one has been able to locate him.”

  Rose stared into the mirror, right into Ivy’s gaze, and her lips took on the smallest curve. “I have.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As bombshells went, Rose had lobbed a good one. Ivy had to fight back the urge to throw herself to the ground and cover her head with her arms, as though she’d been transported into an episode of a World War II miniseries. It was only the thought of the awkward stares that kept her glued to her seat.

  Rose didn’t suffer the same inertia. She calmly reached up, pulled Baen’s hand away from her throat, and climbed out of the car. She got halfway up the path to the manor’s front door before Ivy managed to scramble after her. Baen, of course, had followed immediately.

  “Explain yourself,” the Guardian had ordered, glaring down at the slim elegant figure who had paused beneath a large, square portico that shielded the building’s entrance from the elements. A nearby sconce offered low-level illumination to the scene, and Ivy took advantage in order to search for clues to the other woman’s game in the shifting of her expressions.

  She agreed now that Rose was playing with them. It seemed as if every time she opened her mouth, she revealed some other tidbit of information she had previously kept hidden. Why did she not just come clean and share all the information she had? Isn’t that what someone who was really on their side would do?

  “Can’t we go inside first?” Rose asked, not appearing at all intimidated by the scowling hulk of a warrior who pinned her with an angry, flame-touched gaze. “It might not be late on the clock, but it has been a somewhat … eventful evening, no?”

  Ivy sidled closer to Baen and crossed her arms over her chest. Even she was becoming impatient with her contact’s elusive behavior. “No, I don’t think we can go inside. Not until you tell us what you mean so we can decide exactly what it is we’re walking into. First you lead the Order to our meeting in Paris, then you whisk us out to the middle of nowhere where we only have your word that we’re walking into a Guild safe house rather than some sort of trap, and now you tell us that you’ve been hiding information about the Guardians from us, and from the rest of them, as well? Uh-uh. I’m done following you around, sister. Start talking.”

  Baen made a low sound of agreement and shifted to place himself between Rose and the entrance to the house. His meaning was clear—either she explained herself, or she would be going nowhere.

  “Merde. Fine, I will explain outside, where it is dark and cold, instead of in the nice, warm house, where there is coffee and brandy and probably a fire burning in the hearth. I’m sure it will satisfy your very English need to be as uncomfortable as possible at all times.”

  Ivy flashed a tight, fake smile. “I’m American. Couldn’t you tell as soon as you heard me?”

  “I had hopes, considering what Puritans you people can be. You’re even worse in some ways.”

  “I like to think we’re just more persistent. So, spill.”

  Beside her, Baen did his best impression of an immovable object. Considering how he spent most of his time, his effort was convincing.

  Rose took a deep breath and pressed her lips together in a tight, red line. She seemed to be gathering herself before she spoke. “The war with the Darkness has been raging for far longer than anyone realizes, since before the first isolated strikes against the Guild.”

  “How much longer? What kind of time frame are we talking about?”

  “Years. We estimate five or six, at this point. But perhaps as many as ten.”

  Baen cursed.

  Ivy chewed on the revelation. She wanted to find it surprising. After all, her uncle and cousin had died less than a year ago, and before that, neither of them had given any indication that they were in serious danger. Not that they spoke that often about Guild business, but impending death was something families shared with each other, for practical reasons if nothing else. So there had been nothing to tip her off that the battle had started any earlier than nine months ago, when she’d had her episode in her nice warm bed in New York.

  Nothing logical, anyway. Her instincts, however, assured her that Rose spoke the truth. The Order had achieved too many victories for this to have begun so recently.

  “At first, they confined themselves to guerilla tactics,” the woman continued. “Small strikes, quickly executed, random and unpredictable. They weakened the Guild, but not significantly enough to cause panic. Especially since, by that time, we think that they had already managed to infiltrate the Guild’s hierarchy and place a spy in the organization.”

  “So, you were right,” Ivy said, looking up at Baen. He didn’t appear all that pleased to have his theories confirmed by outside sources, but then, it wasn’t exactly good news, was it? She turned back to Rose. “Do you know who it was? Have you identified him?”

  “Yes, for all the good it does us. He died in the destruction of the Guild headquarters. For him, it was a suicide mission. The nocturnis accomplished their goals, and left us nothing useful to learn from, since there was no one left to question once the fires burned out.”

  Baen shifted impatiently. “This is interesting information, but if all you plan to do is paint us a background canvas, you continue to waste our time. I want to know where my seventh brother is and why he has not joined us.”

  “Yes, I think that is something we would all like to know.”

  A loud air disturbance, almost like a parachute unfurling, sounded only a few feet away, and a rush of chilly wind through the portico had the three figures gathered there turning to peer into the darkness of the manor’s front garden. From it, four shapes emerged, two very large, and the others rather small. The large ones sported huge wings they slowly furled as they approached.

  “Where is our remaining brother, female?” the first Guardian demanded, his expression one of menace and determination. He would have his questions answered or he would extract vengeance from the uncooperative. “Why have you hidden him from us?”

  A woman with long, curly dark hair and a shoulder bag the size of a Central American nation stepped forward and placed a hand on the creature’s arm. “Hey, tone it down a notch, big guy. Let’s give diplomacy a try at least, before we break out the rubber hoses.”

  “We are diplomatic,” the second Guardian grumb
led. He was shorter than the first, but broader, and looked as if he ate bowls of shredded steel in the mornings instead of shredded wheat. “We asked the female to return our brother to us instead of killing her and finding him ourselves. That is very diplomatic.”

  Beside him, a tiny woman wearing layered T-shirts—the topmost of which read I’M HERE BECAUSE YOU BROKE SOMETHING—snorted. “Right. You’re a regular United Nations, you’re just with the Committee on Random Acts of Violence. I get it now.”

  For about thirty seconds, Rose looked stunned, as if someone had just showed her what was hidden behind door number three and it turned out to be the check for one million dollars instead of the year’s supply of turtle wax. Then she seemed to gather herself together with determined motions. She inclined her head and spoke with genuine reverence.

  “Guardians,” she said, her eyes on the ground at the newcomers’ feet. “Welcome to Maison Formidable. You are most sincerely welcome. We have all prayed to the Light that this day would come soon, and that I have been able to witness it brings me great pleasure.”

  Baen looked from the Frenchwoman to his brothers with a scowl. “Why is it that she has spent the last three hours either ignoring my requests for information or treating me like a nuisance, yet when you two appear, you’re greeted like conquering heroes?”

  The first who had spoken quirked a smile. “If the boot fits…” he drawled.

  The girl in the T-shirt (because she looked so young, Ivy wondered uneasily whether she was legal to drink in the U.S.) snorted. “It’s a Guardian’s innate modesty I admire the most, Wynnie, what about you?”

  The taller woman with a decidedly bohemian air nodded and pursed her lips in an obvious attempt to keep from grinning. “Humility, that’s what it is. An honest desire to do good for good’s sake and stay well out of the spotlight of those who would offer praise.”

  “Quiet, you,” the shorter Guardian growled, but his expression gave evidence of his amusement and affection for the woman, not irritation at her teasing.

  Ivy’s head spun. She couldn’t really decide if it was from information overload, recurrent emotional shock, the adrenaline that was finally beginning to ebb from her overstressed system, or the fact that she hadn’t eaten since that ham and butter sandwich she purchased from a street vendor for lunch. The cause didn’t really matter, though. What mattered was that she had just run out of the energy required to stand in the driveway of the unfamiliar manor house and tease, debate, question, or interrogate anyone.

  Closing her eyes briefly, she leaned against Baen like a stupid little weakling and spoke his name softly.

  Immediately, he turned his attention to her and bent down to hear her speaking. “What is it, little one?”

  “I’m too tired to do this out here. Can’t we just all go inside and tear each other new ones while sitting down? I’m fine with the tearing, I just need a chair and maybe a croissant if I’m going to participate. Is that possible?”

  Without even bothering to answer, Baen scooped her up in his arms and gave a shrill whistle. The babbling crowd instantly went quiet, curious gazes and wide eyes all turning in his direction.

  “We will finish this inside,” he declared, not waiting to see if any planned to object. It wouldn’t do them any good if they did. Ivy hadn’t known the Guardian long, but she knew he didn’t accept no when he wanted the answer to be yes. “It grows late, and the cold air is not healthy for the humans. While we have much to discuss, everything that needs to be said can be said indoors as easily as outside of them.”

  Ivy didn’t offer so much as a token resistance. She was cold and tired and very, very confused. And frankly, if they were all gathered together to discuss the impending destruction of the world, she’d rather do it perched on a sofa and cradling a mug of hot cocoa.

  Seriously, if the Light wanted her on its side so bad, it could make with the chocolate. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.

  * * *

  The manor house’s blue salon really wasn’t very blue at all. The walls had been painted more of a dove gray, with acres of surrounding woodwork from wainscoting to crown moldings painted a pale, glossy cream. Bits of gilding on mirrors and picture frames lent hints of burnished gold, and the furniture’s warm cherry and mahogany framing leaned toward shades of auburn. Only a small percentage of upholstery and the elegant drapes that fell heavily from the tall windows showed traces of blue.

  But then, as Ivy had always expected, rich people were kind of weird.

  Rose explained that the house had belonged to a distant relative of a Guild member, someone distant enough not to be of interest to the Order but sympathetic enough to the Guild to offer the space to the Wardens in their time of need. Which was a convoluted way of saying that Rose herself wasn’t actually rich. Ivy figured she had to take her word for it, but the other woman looked far from out of place in the elegant surroundings. It couldn’t all be just because she was French, could it?

  No one else looked quite so at home. The Guardians all stood, Baen beside Ivy’s chair, Knox behind the sofa Wynn (the bohemian brunette) had perched on, and Dag leaning against the mantel a few short steps away from Kylie. Actually, despite her T-shirt, worn jeans, and battered high-top sneakers, the computer genius appeared the most comfortable of them, aside from Rose. Even the two other Wardens who had joined them seemed somehow out of place among the opulent décor.

  After Baen’s metaphorical storming of the castle, the rest of the groups gathered outside had trooped in through the ornate double doors to be greeted by a small bearded gentleman with thick glasses and a head so shiny it reflected enough light to count as an additional lamp in the manor’s front hall. He had jumped when he saw the Guardians pour through the entry, even though they had all assumed their human shapes (wings were never a good idea in confined spaces). Only Rose hurrying to his side had prevented a full-blown panic attack.

  She had introduced him as Aldous and dragged him along as she led the group to the salon where they all now gathered. He had generously and eagerly offered to be the one to go fetch the second Warden Rose had wanted them to meet, but she had used a text message instead. Ivy guessed it was to keep Aldous from bolting as soon as he disappeared from view. Somehow he seemed nervous about being surrounded by three giant Guardians and their unfamiliar (if significantly smaller) personal Wardens.

  Go figure.

  Rose’s summons had been answered almost instantly, and after introducing a slim, dark man in his thirties as Thiago, the Frenchwoman had offered them all coffee or brandy. It was all very civilized and annoyingly unhurried, but at least Ivy got her hot chocolate.

  Score.

  “Perfect. Now that we have all become such close friends, can you begin explaining yourself, female? And finish the tale this time.”

  Hm, maybe she should have offered Baen some of her cocoa, Ivy mused. It might have sweetened his disposition.

  His voice rumbled with menace as he continued. “I am particularly interested in the part where you explain why you claim to have located the last remaining Guardian.”

  “Say what, now?” Kylie cocked her head and opened her eyes superwide.

  The rest of the room erupted into chaos. That was the only way to describe three Guardians shouting angry accusations, while two Wardens peppered the air with questions, and a lanky Spaniard had to speak soothingly to a babbling German to keep the other man from running away to hide in a cupboard. Rose leaped to her feet and tried in vain to quiet them all down.

  Ivy just sipped her cocoa and tried not to picture a big, gooey cinnamon roll to go with it. Darn it, she really was getting hungry.

  “Everyone, calm down.” Rose held up her hands, as if that were going to impress anyone.

  Or maybe a piece of cake, Ivy mused. Cake went with everything, right?

  “Please, I will explain, but you should all sit and be quiet so that you can hear me.” Rose tried the reasonable approach, which Ivy could have told her wasn’t going to work.
Not with this crew.

  Ooh, she knew what she wanted! A burger. A nice, juicy burger, loaded with cheese, on a toasted brioche bun. Ivy almost drooled at the thought.

  Finally, Rose caught on to the audience, hiked up her skirt, and scrambled atop an antique table that was probably worth more than her little Renault.

  “Taisez-vous!”

  The woman looked almost surprised when everyone did indeed shut up. They stared at her in shock until Kylie broke the silence with an amused snort.

  “I’m going to have to remember that trick,” the petite hacker said, grinning at her Guardian. “Next time I can’t get your attention, I’ll jump up on a table and scream till you shut up and listen to me.”

  “I always listen to you,” the burly Guardian grumbled, but his eyes had crinkled with amusement.

  “I apologize for my behavior, but I needed you all to pay attention,” Rose said, smoothing her skirt back down her legs. Those legs themselves might just have helped with that goal. Even the women in the room had to admit they were pretty spectacular.

  The tight-fitting, high-waisted garment Rose wore combined with her pin-striped, tie-necked blouse and glossy, wavy hair to give her a definite forties-chic vibe without making her look like she was wearing a costume. Ivy envied her the ability to pull it off, but not the effort it probably took to achieve.

  “This is a complicated story, one I would like to tell only once.” Rose accepted Thiago’s help to descend back to the floor, but she kept her attention on her audience. “It is true that I know the location of the final Guardian, but first I must tell you all everything that has led us to this point, because we have come to a crucial moment. We are all in terrible danger of falling to the Darkness, and we may have only one chance to save ourselves and the rest of humanity from certain destruction.”

  Kylie looked around at the others with raised eyebrows. “Am I the only one who feels like this just became a Wachowski brothers’ production?”