“Get your phone. Call Claudia. Tell her to get down here with some guards. Right now.”

“Why?” Felix asked. “The car is right outside—”

Another shadow flitted across the entrance outside. Then another. Then another. All headed this way.

I opened my mouth to shout out a warning, but it was too late.

Guys with swords crashed through the library doors.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

One after another, seven guys stormed the library, swords out, ready to attack.

Ready to kill.

“Get back!” I screamed.

I whipped my sword out of my scabbard and stepped up to meet our attackers, even though my heart sank at the sheer number. Whoever wanted Devon dead had upped his game.

Behind me, Devon and Felix dropped my suitcases and drew their own swords, and I knew they needed another precious few seconds before they were ready.

So I charged into the men, whirling this way and that, cutting into every person I could reach. I hacked and slashed mostly at their hands and arms, trying to at least get them to drop their weapons. If any of them had a strength Talent, they could always strangle me to death with their bare hands, but with the swords, they didn’t even have to get close to kill me. If nothing else, I wasn’t going down easy, and they were going to have to work to murder me—and Devon and Felix, too.

One man howled with pain as my blade bit into his wrist. His sword slipped from his nerveless fingers, and I pressed my advantage. I twirled my sword in my hand, then wrapped both hands around the black blade, brought it up, and slashed it across his chest hard and deep. The stink of blood flooded the air, and crimson drops sprayed off the end of my sword, spattering onto the books. The man screamed again and pressed his hands to his chest, even as more blood dripped out of the deep wound. I whirled around and drew my sword back the other way, opening up another vicious gash across his chest. He fell to the floor, convulsing, and he didn’t get back up.

One down, many more to go.

Most of the men darted past me and headed toward Devon and Felix, who moved so that they were standing back to back. Devon and Felix lashed out with their swords, keeping their attackers at bay—for now.

I started to run over to help them, when I saw one more person step into the library—the mystery man from the Razzle Dazzle.

Brown hair, brown eyes, not tall or short or fat or thin. He was as average and forgettable as before, right down to his beige polo shirt and khakis. He stood behind the men, his hands tucked into his pockets, as though he were watching some sort of boxing match instead of Devon and Felix fighting for their lives.

I tightened my grip on my sword and started toward him, betting that if I took him down, some of the fight would go out of the rest of the intruders. But the mystery man saw me coming, and his face pinched into a frown. Our eyes locked, and my soulsight kicked in. Needle-sharp annoyance poked me in the chest, along with something that felt like . . . recognition. I frowned. Did I know the mystery man? I didn’t remember meeting him before, but he seemed familiar—or at least I was familiar to him.

The mystery man saw me coming and let out a low, sharp whistle. Two of the men broke off from the group surrounding Devon and Felix and headed in my direction, cutting me off before I could reach the mystery man. He gave me a cold, thin smile and turned his attention back to the others.

The two men advanced on my position. I didn’t want them to flank me, so I turned and ran back into the children’s section.

The men’s footsteps thump-thump-thumped on the carpet behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder long enough to judge the distance between me and the nearest guy. I raced forward, my eyes locked onto a wooden chair that had been pushed off to one side of the play area. I put on an extra burst of speed, leaped into the chair, and immediately whipped back around, driving my sword through the air. I managed to get high and far enough to launch myself at the man who had been closest to me. My sword sliced into his neck, ripping into his throat. He dropped without a sound, and I pulled my sword back the other way and stepped up to face the next man.

Two down, still many more to go.

I just managed to raise my sword when the next man attacked me. His sword zip-zip-zipped through the air, and too late, I realized he had a speed Talent.

We broke apart after a particularly fast exchange in which I only managed to parry his blows by instinct rather than by actually seeing them coming. Sweat slicked down my face, and my hands were hot and clammy around the hilt of my sword. If my attacker hit it just the right way, he’d knock the black blade from my hand, and then I’d be done for.

My eyes flicked right and left, looking for something that would help me, and my gaze latched on to another chair and the wooden table behind it. I swung my weapon out in a wide, reckless arc, but it had the desired effect of making my attacker leap back. I turned and ran, but I didn’t go far. I started to hop onto the seat of the chair, but the man used his speed magic to zoom past me and leap into the chair instead, making me pull up short.

“Oh, so sorry, chickie,” the man crowed, waggling his sword at me. “Did I take your spot? What are you going to do now?”

I grinned. “This.”

I kicked the chair out from under him.

The man yelped in surprise, his legs flying out from under him as he toppled back onto the table, just as I wanted him to. His speed, his magic, only gave him an advantage if he was on his feet—and now he wasn’t.

I darted forward and slashed my sword across his chest, making him scream with pain, but he still managed to lash out with his own blade.