They tossed everything through the front doors. As she peered inside, she saw that Nikolas had lit a small fire to one side of the massive fireplace, and he stood beside it, head angled as he peered up at the chimney.
“Is it running clear?” Gawain called out.
“There’s some kind of obstruction,” Nikolas shouted back. “I’m going to have to climb up to clear it.”
As they watched, he reached up to grab hold of something high inside, and he levered himself up until he had completely disappeared.
“Go on inside now,” Gawain told Sophie as he took the handles of the wheelbarrow. “No need for you to get any wetter.”
She had to raise her voice to make herself heard over the rain. “What are you doing?”
“Gathering as much wood as I can,” he replied. “I found a couple of deadfall trees earlier in the north copse. They’re already down. They just need to be harvested.”
“Are you crazy?” she said as lightning flashed overhead. “This is turning into a serious storm.”
“It’s not my first storm, lass,” he said, giving her a wink. “Nor will it be my last. We need as much fuel as we can get. Wood will dry out, and so will I.”
“Well, when you put it like that.” She stepped back out into the deluge. “Let’s go.”
Within moments they were soaked to the skin. It had been another long day, and it wasn’t long before exhaustion set it, narrowing her thinking down to the immediate.
Put one foot in front of the other. Stack the wood Gawain chopped. Push the wheelbarrow another yard. Strain built up in her back, shoulder, and arm muscles, and soon the sites of the old gunshot wounds radiated a hot fire. Consumed by misery, she gritted her teeth, ducked her head, and endured it.
Gawain soon stopped trying to chop the wood into neat logs. Instead, he hacked at the deadfall just enough to break it into transportable pieces.
While they worked, lights appeared, shining through the woods. Breathing hard, she paused to stare, and Gawain did too. It was a large vehicle, traveling down the road that led to the front gates.
“Is that good news or bad news?” Her voice had gone hoarse.
He dug in his pocket to check the screen of his phone. “The men met up in Telford and got their hands on a lorry. They’re here.” In the faint light of the cell phone screen, he looked at her sharply. “We’ll need everybody to get the truck unloaded, but your trick with the colloidal silver won’t work in this downpour.”
“No,” she said, swiping at the water running off her nose. “But my trick with the nail polish will.”
It would also use up the last of her supply. She had enough silver to make more shavings, but she would need more bottles of nail polish, damn it. She had never imagined she would use the bottle up so fast, and she hated to let go of it.
Put one step in front of the other. Fix one problem at a time.
Gawain said, “They took a risk, banding together. We’re even more traceable in a group. They never would have done it if they hadn’t been on the move.”
As the lorry turned onto the drive and passed between the gateposts, Gawain ran toward it while she raced back to the manor house. Dashing inside, she paused to look at the piles of furniture and supplies they had stacked everywhere. The small fire Nikolas had started was a pitiful light source, and it was hard to make things out in the semidarkness.
“Nik, they’re here!” she called out. “Where’s my stuff?”
At first she thought he didn’t hear her, but then in a shower of debris and soot, he landed light as a cat in the huge hearth and scrubbed his face with the bottom of his shirt. “I don’t know. Where did you last set it?”
“I thought I put it over here. We need the nail polish if we’re going to use the null spell in this storm.” She jumped onto the settee and rummaged blindly in the shadows behind it. Her questing fingers brushed a hard, pebbled surface she recognized as her suitcase. “Got it!”
While Nikolas stacked more logs on his small test fire, she hauled the suitcase over the back of the settee and wheeled it over to the hearth, where she knelt to open it to rummage through her things. A chill had set in the house with the storm, and fine tremors ran through her muscles. Soon her teeth were chattering. Her body was a mass of aches and pains.
Then Nikolas walked up. He squatted to wrap a blanket around her. For a moment his arms remained around her torso, then they loosened. “You look like a drowned cat,” he said, his eyes both shadowed and lit by the nearby flames. “Stay by the fire and warm up. Gawain and I can spell the men.”
She felt spent, and she wasn’t going to argue with him. She located the bottle of nail polish and gave him a pointed look. “Have either you or Gawain ever used nail polish before?”
His eyes narrowed. “I think it’s safe for me to speak for him when I say no.”
Giving him an exhausted grin, she slapped the bottle in his hand. “Don’t apply it to wet skin. It takes a few minutes to dry, then you’re good to go. Nobody should go back out in the rain until their rune is dry to the touch. Gawain and I think the land magic is going to mask the group’s presence when you’re all in the house. I couldn’t sense you in here.”
“We’ll double-check when we’re all together, but that’s good to know.” He started to rise.
“Nik.” She took hold of his wrist, and he paused. Her smile died. “Don’t waste what’s in that bottle. That’s all I’ve got.”
He frowned. “Understood.”
Lightning flashed overhead, showing through the thick, archaic glass in the windows and briefly lighting the interior. Nikolas strode across the hall and disappeared outside. Left to herself, she pulled the blanket more tightly around herself and dragged one of the sitting room chairs over as close as she could to the growing fire. From that vantage point, she curled in a ball and watched as several men converged on the doorstep.
Between the distance and the deep shadows, she couldn’t make out many details of the newcomers. They conversed quickly in the area just inside the doors, then one ran outside again. She heard a distant shout, “Can’t sense a thing. We’re good!”
Several of the men looked her way curiously. She could identify Nikolas easily enough. His tall form and catlike grace were indisputable, as he moved through the men, bending over their hands. She knew what he was doing—he was casting the null spell—and she hoped she would have a little of the nail polish left when he was finished.
It was a good thing the land magic didn’t block magic as well as technology. Shifting to get more comfortable, she felt the Glock dig into the small of her back, but she didn’t move to set it aside.
Even though the gun was useless in the house, she wasn’t convinced that she was inside for the night. She was worried about Robin. He was expending so much energy on the storm, and even now, they had to be hunting for him.
After a lull of five to ten minutes, the men exploded into furious activity. They backed the lorry up to the house as close as they could without the engine cutting out. Then while it sat idling, they raced to unload the contents from the back, carrying heavy armloads of supplies into the front hall at a dead run.
Indirect light from the lorry’s headlights lent a sharp, slanting illumination to the scene, bleaching everything into black and white. Out the front double doors, she could see the outlines of the men’s figures working furiously in the driving rain. A couple of them gave her a nod in greeting as they came close, but nobody paused to talk. Talking could happen later.
She watched as stacks of supplies grew around her, everything from camping supplies to cases of bottled water, cans of food, boxes of pantry items, and stacks of weaponry. They even brought more fuel—cords of firewood, what looked like bottles of propane, and other things she couldn’t identify from where she sat. As large as the great hall was, it was beginning to resemble an overcrowded warehouse, especially with the Mini and Gawain’s Harley tucked against one wall.