told me that they hadn't gotten inside yet. By the level of gunfire, I could tell that there were three bogeys at the front entrance, but only one defensive shooter inside. There were at least five bad guys in the backyard. So much for only pole-vaulters getting in over the back wall. A shotgun sounded from the back, a double-barreled boom-boom. We hadn't brought any shotguns. Had someone gotten inside?
A .380 held at my thigh in a two-hand grip, I stuck my head around the back entry opening, looked around, and stepped back, assimilating what I had seen. Eli and Wrassler were on either side of the back entrance. In the mudroom, the back window was busted out, and Esmee stood there, an old pump shotgun at her shoulder. Her scarlet hair was in disarray, and she had a fierce grin in place as she reloaded. Three pistols were on a tall stool by her hip. Oookaaay. An eighty-year-old Annie Oakley. I peeked back again. A small black low-riding SUV was parked in the yard; it hadn't been there before. Wrassler was taking aim at the wall of the garage, and when a head peeked out, he fired, a fast three-tap. He killed some brick, but the man jerked back.
"How many?" I called out between shots.
Eli swiveled his head over his shoulder as he ejected one magazine and slammed in another. "Five that I can count." His face was set in the emotionless lines of the soldier under fire, but his eyes were fierce. "Alex is in the garage. He went back out to get one of his electronic things. I don't think they know he's there."
I dialed Alex's phone, hoping it was on vibrate or that the sound of his ring tone was hidden under the gunfire. When he answered, I said, "Are you safe?"
"Are you freaking kidding me?" he whispered. "There are people with guns everywhere!"
"Are. You. Safe?"
"Yeah. For now."
"Where?"
"I locked myself in the limo."
I chuckled. "Good move. Stay there."
I ended the call and said, "Kid's good. He's locked in the limo."
Eli fired off three shots. Wrassler fired off three shots and ejected his magazine. In the mudroom, Esmee fired off two rounds and I nearly went deaf.
"I'll reload," Wrassler said, starting on the empty magazines.
"I really need to teach the Kid how to shoot," Eli grumbled. But some of the fierceness had left his eyes.
"I'll check on the front," I said. "It's gone quiet." Placing my bare feet carefully, I stepped through the house, from room to room, checking each one as I moved. When I reached the front of the house, I spotted Bruiser on one knee behind a sofa, which would provide zero protection from bullets, but did hide him from sight. Three empty magazines and a semiautomatic were at his knee. He was out of ammo or his nine-mil had jammed. In a two-hand grip was an old, long-barreled pistol, one I hadn't seen before. He was waiting for a frontal assault to come through the door. Idiot.
A shadow moved near the entrance. Then another. Two forms rushed through, moving with the speed of freshly fed blood-servants. I started to lift my weapon.
Bruiser moved and everything happened out of order. Faster than I could process. He straightened his back, raising above the sofa. Fired four shots, so close atop one another that they seemed to overlap, with the barest hint of a pause between shots two and three as he readjusted his aim. The two blood-servants fell, the one in front sliding sideways, hitting an easel holding an ugly painting, sending both spinning. Bruiser practically flew across the sofa and caught the painting. The other blood-servant fell with a hollow thump. Bruiser set the painting on the sofa. The easel landed with a crash on the floor. He checked the two he had dropped.
I whipped back behind the wall. What the heck? I had never seen anyone except a vamp move so fast. I remembered Katie saying to him, "You will live. And still mostly human . . ." What was Bruiser now? How close to being a blood-sucker was he?
I made a faint sound and stepped out. Bruiser was at the front entrance, scanning the yard. "We're clear here," he said, without turning around. He closed the front door with a snap, and the dead bolt settled into its slot.
"Good," I said, sounding almost normal. "I'll go help with the back, then."
Bruiser turned to me, his brown eyes taking me in. His roaming