32. THE HALFLINGS ATTACK

THE HALFLINGS ATTACK

I ran for the living room, stopping short at the entrance as Nadia whirled from the fireplace towards Andras, who was stretched out on the couch.

"Andras. Callum is here ," she warned, her voice cold and commanding. "I know it because my mood has gone to absolute shit."

Taking a step, I looked between them, "I just saw something near the woods–a shadow. A very fast-moving shadow," I blurted out. I wrung my hands together, unsure what else to do with them.

Andras sat up slowly, tilting his head, listening intently. He sniffed the air and then went utterly still. A nod to each of us, his gaze lifted to the ceiling—something was up there. With cat-like stealth, Andras rose to his feet, inching silently toward me. Nadia slid the fire poker free from its stand, crouching low, one hand on the floor for balance, the other aiming the iron into the air. The fire crackled. Without warning, she sprang toward the ceiling, thrusting the poker upward before landing back into a crouch with a soft thud. She checked the tip for blood, cursing when it came up clean. Then all hell broke loose. Andras twisted, pulling me close as glass shattered. A dark figure exploded through the window, slamming into Nadia. She pivoted out of the shadow's claws, rolling into the wall. Instantly back on her feet, ready to strike, Nadia's eyes locked on the darkness rising in the corner of the room. The figure stepped into the firelight—a young man with brown eyes and sneering, pale lips.

"Andras," I whispered, his arm still around me. My voice cracked as my body began to shake. "It's him… " I whispered.

Andras froze in a way only an immortal could. He gently unwrapped himself from me and stepped away. Then, in a blur, Andras shot toward the man who had broken into my home, who had dragged me through my living room by my hair. Rage seared through my chest, so intense I thought it might kill me. Am I having a heart attack, right now? Andras' hand snapped out like a viper, seizing the man by the throat and squeezing. "Who the fuck are you?" Andras asked, his voice calm, quiet, lethal, with his fangs fully visible and terrifying. A groan escaped the enormous man, his bulging eyes darting toward the window, toward the outside.

"C-Callum," he choked out, "sent me to follow you." He was struggling, gasping. "I saw you talk to her," his swollen eyes slid to mine, "so I snuck in to find out who she was. I thought the house was empty. But then, she was there, and I was…so hungry."

A shiver shot up my spine and a cold like I'd never known before traveled through my limbs. Had that been why Andras had looked so worried when he'd stared into this man's face that night? Because he suspected he might be a vampire?

A chilly, emotionless calm settled over Andras's striking face, half in shadow, half illuminated by the glow of the fire. He let go of the man's throat, cocking back his elbow as if he were loading a punch, then his fist thrust forward into the man's barrel chest with a thunderous crack, and his hand–his whole hand –buried itself inside. I inhaled sharply, covering my mouth. I was going to be sick. The man's eyes widened in disbelief. He gasped, mouth opening and closing like a fish suffocating out of water. Andras growled and yanked his hand free, the squelch and crack echoed through the room. Something slipped from his grip and landed on the floor with a wet thud. I startled. The man's face froze as he went boneless, collapsing to the ground in a heap. Blood trickled from Andras's hand down to the hardwood. Drip. Drip. Drip.

He ran the bloodied hand through this dark hair, face still impassive, detached, the face of a former enforcer, a soldier, a killer. Red streaked his forehead and coated his already disheveled strands. One breath, I was watching him, unable to look away, the next breath, he appeared at my side, his sticky red hand slack at his side. My stomach turned, and I nearly wretched, until Nadia started to rub small circles on my back.

"Try to breathe," she gently encouraged. She must have sensed that I felt sick and faint at the sound of the cracking, and all that blood, and the memory of my father's study, and the dried splatters that crusted the ceiling. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. After all of this was over, if we survived, I did not want to feel this way ever again. I would not feel powerless or trapped ever again.

"I'm sorry," Andras apologized, shaking his head.

My gaze flicked up to his, and I frowned. "I knew what I was getting into," I said. I knew it would be like this, and I'm not here to be coddled." There was a pause. I don't know why this popped into my head, but it did, and I couldn't stop myself from saying it. I smiled tightly, "Plus, I read all of the Anne Rice books, so I feel pretty prepared ."

Nadia and Andras both scoffed. I threw up my hands in mock offense. I knew that I'd made the joke to stop myself from crying. The way I'd always done, deflected how I felt through humor.

Andras looked between me and Nadia,

"That was a halfling," he said.

"Yeah," she agreed.

She blew out a breath and swore.

A halfling? I tried to remember if I'd ever heard that term before. Nothing came to mind.

"What's that?" I finally asked, looking between them.

Nadia hummed a thought, then said, "it's a creature who is not fully made. Not human, not a vampire. So, still mortal, but with speed and strength. They don't live long between worlds, and it's very uncommon to see them. Except in war."

Andras's expression hardened.

"An army." He muttered, "fuck."

"He knew it was a trap," Nadia said, disgust lacing her words. "It took him a while to come because the bastard was preparing for–."

An explosion reverberated from the back of the cabin. Andras grabbed me around the waist and pulled me behind him at the same time that my eyes caught the fire poker, and I snatched it up just in time. Nadia had already vanished down the hallway. Pans clanged to the ground in the kitchen, drawers rattled open, and someone grunted—then a heavy thud against the wall, followed by a low, agonized groan. A body crashed into the hall, then was hurled into the living room, landing near us. A petite woman with short blond hair scrambled to her feet and bolted back toward the kitchen, toward Nadia. A sharp crack echoed, and then, silence. Slow, deliberate footsteps approached through the shadows until Nadia emerged, leaning casually against the doorframe. "These ones? They're like five minutes old."

"Does that mean super strong or super weak?" I asked. "Because in some books that means–"

"They're strong but feral," Nadia explained. "They don't know how to use their bodies yet. It's honestly kinda sad…and I can't help but feel like this is a distraction. Callum knows damn well that they couldn't possibly do much damage."

"He's up to something," Andras mused.

From outside, a voice bellowed into the night, full of hollow darkness: "I can hear you." Andras and Nadia went still. "Are you going to come out here in this freezing bullshit snow, or would you prefer that I join you in there?"

We exchanged tense, wordless glances before slowly approaching the shattered window. Jagged shards framing the scene beyond were as sharp as the fear tightening in my chest. The once-pristine snow was marred and violated by the presence of dozens of figures cloaked in the shadows, their movements strange and menacing. They were spread out across the field, closing in on the cabin and threatening violence.

"Fucking prick," Nadia cursed.

"I heard that," Callum cooed, tsking at her.

Andras's gaze swept over the halflings, then lingered on the trees bordering the clearing, before darting back inside the cabin. His expression hardened, and with cold determination, he squared his shoulders and stalked toward the hallway. Nadia flashed me a smile, her eyes gleaming with a disturbing excitement, as if she were utterly thrilled that things were finally about to get interesting. She followed him, and I trailed close behind. Andras was already rifling through a bag in the bedroom, the tension between us sharp and electric. He pulled out three sets of leather straps, tossing them without a word. I caught mine, my fingers trembling slightly as I turned it over in my hands. The air seemed to grow heavier as he reached deeper into the bag, extracting swords and two gleaming handguns, the cold weight of what was coming settling like a stone in my chest.

"Bullets won't kill them, but they'll slow them down," Andras instructed, "aim for the head." His voice was low and urgent. He fastened the leather straps around his chest with practiced speed. In one swift motion, he grabbed two short swords, sliding them into place on his back with a quiet, deadly efficiency. Nadia followed suit, her movements quick, almost eager. Then Andras turned to me, stepping close as his hands worked to secure the leather holsters around my hips. Each click of the buckle felt like a countdown. My breath hitched as he slid the handguns into place, their weight suddenly all too real.

"Have you used a gun before?"

I nodded.

"Yes, for target practice when I was younger. But I'm better with a sword. Fencing. My parents wanted me to go to Harvard. Remember?"

"You are full of surprises," he chuckled, one side of his lip lifting. Then he tilted his head, "alright, aim for the head to stun, but if you get a chance, cut the damn thing off. That will actually kill them. Even Callum. Nadia and I will go to the clearing; you stay here and– "

"No. I'm coming with you out there. I know I'm more likely to be killed, but I'm more afraid of dying here in one of these rooms on a crocheted pillow," I said, and I meant it. I couldn't stop thinking about one of the halflings getting in here and ripping my throat out on the oak bed, blood seeping into the quilts and making the needlework illegible, gruesome–a terrible way to be found. I'd rather die in the snow, fighting.

My eyes met Andras's, and we stayed that way for a heartbeat. His pupils were larger than usual, the black spreading and eating up the blue, sapphire turning to onyx. He was stunning in a way that only dangerous things can be, with his full lips, sweeping lashes, and the promise of violence in the tick of his jaw.

"Okay. You come then."

Nadia handed one of her swords to me. "Take this," she said. "I'm better with just one, anyway. Keeps my other hand free for…other things."

I raised my eyebrows at her in question. Her lips curled up at the corners to reveal straight teeth and lengthening canines.

"So you're ready, then?" Andras asked Nadia.

"Please," she scoffed, rolling her eyes, then pretended to examine her nails in feigned boredom.

"And you?" he asked, his voice heavy as a grave expression settled over his features.

I wasn't. There was nothing that could prepare me for what we were about to do, no amount of training, or deep breaths, not all of the vampire movies or books in the world. Dipping my chin once was the only confirmation I could give, worried that if I opened my mouth, I'd vomit. We surveyed each other for a moment, taking it all in. Andras wore all black, and the leather straps across his wide chest, the swords on his back, and that classically handsome face made him look like a God of death. He was gorgeous and terrifying in a way that was so wholly ethereal and not at all human. Despite the beauty and otherworldly grace, you could tell he was a soldier, trained to kill, by the way he stood with his shoulders back, jaw set, and eyes wholly fearless. A creature of death.

Nadia, for all of her elegance and beauty, looked far too casual for bloodshed, which made her that much more intimidating. Wearing a blouse and heeled boots to a battle required a level of confidence I couldn't even fathom. Her dark brown eyes were cold and determined. She hadn't bothered to sheath her sword, and instead gripped it with white knuckles, like it was an extension of her arm. Then there was me, in leggings and a sweater, a mother of two who spent a ridiculous amount of time planning cute notes to put into barely literate children's lunch boxes. Yes, I knew how to use a sword, to win competitions. Not to smite my enemies. I knew how to use a gun, to hit a piece of paper. Not a person.

I should not be here .

Andras inhaled sharply, then spun on his heel, striding purposefully toward the hall. We fell in behind him without a word. My hands trembled violently, the weight of the hilt slipping in my grip as we headed for the cold and perhaps to our deaths.