The tendrils that held me had formed a pillar anchored to the floor and the ceiling. A warm energy flowed through them, the lifeblood of the inn pulsing like the beating of a giant heart. It lit the tendrils from within with a faint green glow, turning the wood translucent so the grain was only barely visible. The air smelled fresh and clean, the way it would smell deep in the woods on a sunny day.

Another swarm fluttered by. The magic was so thick here you could scoop it with a cup.

I had come here once before when I first arrived. I'd walked deep into the inn --it had been asleep and I'd had to force my way through the walls --and then I had sat down here at the inert tangle of the inn's roots, put my hands on them, and fed it magic until they stirred. Gertrude Hunt had been asleep for years, its stasis so deep it was a kind of death. Bringing it back from deep sleep had taken a long time.

Now the tendrils hugged me, sharing the magic of the inn with me. We had come full circle. I had been lucky. My injuries had come from magic expended too quickly. The inn had given me some of its power. If I had suffered severe physical injuries, my recovery would've taken a lot longer.

"Thank you," I said. "But it's time. I stayed too long."

The tendrils tightened a little more, protective, gentle but firm.

The innkeepers have never officially agreed if the inns could feel or not. We knew they reacted, but whether they loved us or simply served us out of a symbiotic need had never been determined. I had my own opinion on that.

"It's time," I whispered again and petted the roots.

The tendrils pulled apart. I slid down and stepped onto the warm surface. All my clothes were gone and my feet were bare.

Something small lunged from the shadows and licked my foot.

"Hello, Beast."

The tiny dog dashed about me in a frantic circle.

A tendril rose. My robe hung off it. It hovered, waiting, as if hesitant. It was so nice to stay here in the serene darkness. But I had an inn to protect. I slipped my robe on and took my broom.

The darkness parted in front of me, walls and dimensions compressing and spinning in a dizzying rush. Looking at it would be enough to send an entire university's worth of string-theory physicists into fits. Sounds of distant male voices arguing filtered through. Of course. I'd left them alone for a few hours. I took one last look at the heart of the inn behind me, sighed, and stepped through the chaotic mess into the hallway leading to the foyer.

*** *** ***

"If Dina dies, I will eat you, dear." Caldenia said it with complete aplomb.

"You may find it very difficult, Your Grace," Arland answered.

"No, she'll find it easy once I'm done with you," Sean said.

Caldenia smiled. "I'm amused you think I'll need help, but very well, you may have him first. I do enjoy my meat properly tenderized. Please try to keep comminuted fractures to a minimum."

"What kind of fractures?" Sean frowned.

"Comminuted. That's when bones splinter into shards and pieces. It's quite difficult to dig them out of my teeth while maintaining decorum."

I touched my hand to the wall and sent out a push to isolate the room.

The front door melted, turning into a wall. The light outside changed slightly, gaining a pale orange tint. The doorway to the kitchen sealed itself. So did the upstairs landing, just out of sight. My body protested against magic expended, but if you're going to punch a vampire, you have to punch him hard. This would be one hell of a shock to the system.

"I have done nothing wro --" Arland started.

The northern wall melted, obeying my will. Arland stopped in mid-word. Sean froze in his tracks. Caldenia rose slowly.

An orange plain rolled outside under the purple sky. The wall had opened on top of a cliff and from this angle the vast expanse of the wastes looked infinite. The sun had set, but the distant west was still on fire with carmine and yellow. The moon, enormous, taking up half the horizon, hung above us to the left in the dark sky, the stars behind it bright and sharp. Under it, pale yellow grass climbed up the harsh flame-colored dunes. Scraggly trees, their twisted branches dry, stood here and there, supporting flat crowns of green needles.

The plain stared at them and exhaled in their face, filling the room with the dry bitter scent of grass and something else. Something animal and feral. It was a wild, nasty scent that slashed across your instincts like a knife and whispered straight into your mind. "Something big is near. Something hungry and vicious."

The ground shuddered. A colossal creature strode into view on six gargantuan legs, each big enough to flatten a car. It moved fast, the six legs gripping, the long segmented tail with a heavy barb on the end snapping as it trotted. The dying light played across its purple hide.

Sean opened his mouth and stayed that way for a second. Arland's right hand was opening and clenching, probably looking for the handle of his sword.

The monster paused and suddenly reared, resting its bulk on the base of its tail, towering above the plain like a semi set vertically on the road. Its dinosaurian neck bent, swiveling the wide head right, then left. Six pairs of blood-orange eyes scanned the grass. The beast inhaled, fluttering its nostrils. We must've smelled odd.

The beast's giant maw opened so wide it looked like its head had been cut in two, baring a forest of traffic-cone teeth. The creature roared.

It was a sound most civilized beings would never hear, but if they did, they would remember it forever. They would recognize it even in their sleep, and if they heard it again, they would stop talking and thinking and they would find the nearest dark hole and hide in it.

Both Arland and Sean tensed and looked behind them.

"The exits are gone," Arland said.

"I saw." Sean shrugged his shoulders as if getting ready for a sprint.

I stepped out of the shadows and walked between them. As I stepped into the light of the fading sunset, my robe turned russet, shifting its silhouette slightly to adjust itself to the different world.

"What is this?" Arland asked.

"Kolinda. The inn exists in more than one place. There are doors between worlds and some of them lead here. There are two kinds of keepers on Earth: the innkeepers and the ad-hal."

The monster on the plain turned toward us, finally pinpointing the source of the odd smells. I turned my back to it.

"Ad-hal is an ancient word that means secret."

"Dina," Sean said, looking over my shoulder.

"All those who enter our world are subject to the treaty ratified by the Cosmic Senate, and treaty's most important provision is that it must remain secret."

The ground shook, sending vibrations through the floor. The monster was galloping toward us.

"Those who lose their inn or the children of the innkeepers who have no inn to keep sometimes become the ad-hal," I said. "They serve the Senate here on Earth. When someone actively tries to expose the innkeepers, they come. This happens very rarely, but it does happen. They apprehend the guilty and take them to places like this."

The entire inn shook now. The six-legged beast was climbing the cliff toward us.

"My lady!" Arland took a step forward

"There will be no shuttle," I said. "No dimensional gate, no magic portal. No rescue, no way to call home. There is only you and the wilderness."

I turned slowly, just in time to see the furious eyes and then huge teeth.

A cloud of fetid, hot breath washed over me. I tapped the broom on the floor. The wall reappeared, transparent. The beast snarled, confused, but no sound came through. It clawed the empty air in front of it, but we were beyond its reach. My robe reshaped itself again.

"Today the stalker attacked me in plain daylight in front of witnesses in a crowded store. I did everything I could to contain the exposure and as a result, I almost died. By withholding the information, you and the House Krahr become complicit in that breach."

Arland's eyes narrowed. "So this is a threat?"

"I don't threaten my guests, my lord. I have no need to do so. This is a reality check. If the dahaka keeps attacking, I can't guarantee I can conceal it. Nobody can make that promise, because it doesn't care. If the herd of cattle it slaughtered hadn't looked like they'd been attacked by wild animals, the secret keepers would be here already. If the ad-hal come for you, I won't protect you. Not only can't I, but I won't. Your secrets endanger all of us and the safety of my guests is my first priority. If you are discovered, your House will be dishonored and banned from Earth."

I sat down.

"We have a saying here. The ball is in your court. I believe you have a similar expression."

"The krahr is eating your horses," Arland said. His face was grim. "If I tell you, what guarantees will I have that this knowledge stays in this room?"

"Who would we share it with?" I asked.

Arland looked at Caldenia. She shrugged. "The inn is my permanent residence, as you may have heard."

The vampire turned to Sean.

"Yes, I'll take it to the evening news, because I always wanted to be seen as a complete madman. I would enjoy being locked up for the rest of my life. And my parents, who are still on the planet and are still alien, would be so proud."

"A simple yes would be sufficient," Arland said.

We all waited. He sat down and opened his mouth. "It started with a wedding."

Chapter Thirteen

"How amusing." Caldenia arched her eyebrows. "Usually it ends with a wedding."

"Who was getting married?" I asked, turning the wall behind me opaque and opening the exits. I'd made my point and keeping the gateway open was draining the inn's resources.

Arland shrugged his shoulders, settling into his chair. "My second cousin. I was in the middle of it due to my rank, and it was a nightmare. Small things go wrong and normally sensible people become prone to hysterics over it. The issue of flowers alone... When I get married, I fully intend to pass all preparations on to someone else. As long as they tell me where to show up, I couldn't care less about how the ribbons are folded and whether they are the right shade of red."