“Are you sure? I might have a grenade up my ass, after all. No way for anyone to know unless—”
“Enough.” Javier rolled his eyes. “As you stand in for the Rhej in the circle, we will accept your word, also.”
Cullen’s smile remained, but grew edges. You could cut yourself on a smile like that. “But not the guards’ words.”
“What does it matter?” Edgar demanded. “Wythe has nothing to hide. Robert!” He turned to face the guards spread out behind them. “Allow Benedict to search you.”
A lean blond man well over six feet with a hooked nose turned to face Benedict and held his arms straight out. Benedict didn’t move, didn’t so much as glance at him.
“If we’re going to do this,” Rule said, “best do it quickly. Wythe and Nokolai guards will search each other. Kyffin and Ybirra will do the same. When Scott returns, he and Lucas’s guard may ensure their mutual compliance. Agreed?”
“Foolishness,” Lucas said, “but very well. “
“Oh, all right,” Myron said. “Though Lucas is right—it’s a foolish sacrifice of dignity, which Billy possesses in much greater quantity than I, so I suppose he can spare a morsel of it. Billy! Please allow—ah, I think your name is Gil? Allow Gil to pat you down, then do the same for him.”
The man with the buzzed hair—who looked like he should be called Crusher or Bull, not Billy—moved toward the dark-skinned man on his left. Rule gave Benedict a nod.
George had waited with his arms outstretched. Benedict went to him. He was quick, efficient, and as thorough as one can be without the body cavity search Cullen had mockingly suggested. Within moments Benedict straightened. “Unless his phone transforms into a laser gun, he’s clean.”
“Permit him to assure himself that the same is true for you.”
Benedict looked bored. He tugged his T-shirt off over his head and held it out. “You’ll want to check that.”
The man took it, shook it, shrugged, and tossed it over his shoulder.
Benedict hadn’t left him many places to look. His shorts were knee-length khaki. Unlike most of the others, he wore a belt with them. His phone was clipped to it. George patted Benedict’s hips and butt, paying attention to the pockets, and ran a couple fingers inside the waist of his shorts, then knelt on one knee. Apparently he meant to check Benedict’s socks and shoes, but Lily didn’t see what he actually did. George’s body blocked her from seeing his hands.
She saw Benedict’s face change, a subtle disturbance rippling through his features. Then Benedict roared.
And things went to hell really fast.
THIRTY-EIGHT
BENEDICT slammed his fist into George’s face. George flew backward several feet. He hadn’t yet landed when Benedict leaped at the man closest to him—Gil, Javier’s guard, who’d just finished patting down Myron’s Billy. Benedict didn’t land on Gil. He jumped past the man—seizing his head and twisting it as he did.
Gil never had a chance to cry out. His body slumped to the ground like an under-filled bag of sand.
Benedict landed on his toes already bending into his next move. He spun on one leg, the other one swinging through the air, his torso lined up perfectly with the outstretched leg to balance the kick.
Billy was in motion, too—rushing into the attack, trying to redirect the kick and upset Benedict’s balance.
Billy was lupus. He was fast.
Not fast enough.
Somehow Benedict altered the kick in midmotion, bending his knee and twisting his body to change the trajectory. Had he misjudged even a fraction, it would have been his knee rather than his thigh that smacked into Billy’s head— probably crippling Benedict, however much damage it did to Billy. Instead Billy fell to the ground, stunned or dead.
All that took three seconds.
Lily was slow to react. Sheer disbelief held her motionless. The lupi around her were a split-second faster. Even as Billy fell, Rule threw himself into a run. So did Edgar and Lucas. Javier howled and jumped … on Rule. From behind.
The two tumbled to the ground, rolled. Myron, who had just started forward, jerked to a halt near them.
“Furo!” cried the one remaining guard, dodging frantically as Benedict charged him. “He stinks of the fury!”
The fury? Oh, gods, this was bad. Lily started to reach inside her sling. Stopped.
“Circle him!” That was Cullen—who wasn’t a trained fighter, but he was blindingly quick. Maybe the only one faster than Benedict. He didn’t obey his own order. He rushed Benedict, moving so fast Lily couldn’t quite see what happened—but it resulted in Cullen veering at the last second when Benedict’s arm flashed out.
The sleep charms. Cullen had tried to use one. He couldn’t get close enough.
Lucas dashed in just as Cullen veered away. The flurry of motion was too quick to follow, but it ended with Benedict’s mouth bleeding freely and Lucas flying a dozen feet through the air. Edgar charged Benedict from behind. Benedict spun and slammed both fists on Edgar’s head. Edgar went down hard.
They needed Rule, who might be able to use the portion of the Nokolai mantle he held to stop Benedict. Maybe.
There was a solid smack of fist on flesh. Rule nearly won free, but Javier snaked out a foot, tripping him. Lucas and Cullen were distracting Benedict, giving him two fast-moving targets. Lily hesitated for one more second, looking over at Arjenie. The woman stood stock-still, eyes huge with horror. “Get in the car,” Lily snapped. “Lock the doors.”
“Furo?” Those huge eyes turned to Lily. “The fury? What’s that? What’s happening?”
“Madness. In the car. Now.” Lily didn’t wait to see if she obeyed, but raced toward Rule and Javier. Twenty feet away, Cullen danced and darted around Benedict like a rodeo clown keeping an enraged bull away from his target—Edgar, who was trying to rise. Lucas was down again, on hands and knees, shaking his head. The remaining guard cradled one arm close to his body and moved sluggishly, as if dazed.
In the second or two Lily had looked away, Benedict had struck again.
Myron had stayed near Rule and Javier. He jumped back as the entangled fighters rolled. “Javier! Stop it! We need Rule to—oh, damn,” he said, sliding sideways quickly to avoid them. “Not going to listen, are you?” He grimaced, drew back his foot, and kicked Javier in the head.
Javier went limp. Rule sprang to his feet and dashed toward the madman who was his brother. Lily followed as fast as she could.
“Benedict!” Rule shouted. “Freeze!”
For a split second, he did. For one shutter-click moment, he didn’t move. But only for that long. Then he charged Rule.
Rule danced aside at the last second. “Circle him! I’ll keep him busy while—”
“Hell, no, you won’t!” Cullen yelled back. “I’m faster.” As if to prove that he darted in—then back, ducking and dodging, giving Rule a chance to move closer while he weaved around blows that didn’t quite land.
Until one did. Cullen sailed backward, skidding across the dry grass in a cloud of dust to end up next to one of those terribly still bodies. Lily stopped just as Rule leaped on his brother’s back. Benedict threw himself backward. The two of them landed in a tangled pile, but Benedict had managed to twist himself around as they fell, landing with one knee in Rule’s back.
For a sickening second, Rule was still. Benedict reached for Rule’s head or maybe his throat—
A rock sailed in and hit him in the head.
He rolled off and in one smooth motion regained his feet, growling in a way no human throat should be able to do. Cullen stood ten feet away, another rock in his hand, grinning like a maniac. Half his face was covered in blood. He swayed slightly where he stood and his eyes looked fuzzy, as if they weren’t tracking right. “Want some more? C’mon. Come here.” He made a beckoning gesture. “Let’s dance, big boy.”