Long Night Moon (The Bradbury Institute Book 2) by Sonya Clark Page A

jokes aside, this creature is a bad piece of work. If
you have to run it through with a sword, do it. I’d prefer no damage to the
building or anything in it, but I absolutely do not want any of my people
hurt.”
    “We’ll put the traps together in
the Oracle,” Chet said by way of calling an end to the meeting. Everyone
shuffled out slowly. Spending part of the holiday on a goblin hunt was no one’s
idea of a good time.
    Bettine examined her fingernails.
“This is beyond tedious.”
    “I know.” Chet squeezed her
shoulder. “I’m really hoping it won’t take long.”
    “It better not.” She rose to her
full height, giving her dark hair an imperious toss. “I had plans for you
tonight that would make last night seem like child’s play.” She stalked out of
the office.
    Chet swore. That goblin would be
caught by dusk or he’d kill it himself.
    ***
    Pete shivered in the throes of
memory. Blood dripping down a wall of bone. Screaming so constant he’d
forgotten what quiet felt like. He swayed, reaching blindly for something to
steady himself.
    As awareness returned, he realized
he was leaning against the gun locker. Pete shook his head, trying to clear his
thoughts. He needed to be at his best, he needed to be strong. He hadn’t felt
so weak in three years.
    The box had fallen to the floor,
Eve’s hair tumbling out. He stared at the gold strands. Memory superimposed an
image of shining white bone twisted by dark magic and wrapped around his
bloodied wrists. With a shuddering breath he wiped his face to dispel the
sight, then held out a hand. It shook uncontrollably. He grasped it with his
other hand, pressing them against his chest as he slid to the floor. The taste
of wet and salt on his lips told him he was crying.
    Someone entered the room. Unable to
speak, Pete didn’t move.
    “Pete, what are.” It was Sanngrid.
She switched to German but for once he couldn’t follow it. Crouching over him,
she brushed tears from his face and switched back to English. “What happened? Peter ?”
    He swallowed and found his voice.
“Crantz took Eve.” He flicked his gaze to the box.
    Sanngrid followed his eyes. “ Scheisse .”
She rose. “I’ll get Judith.”
    Pete grabbed her hand, pulling her
back down. “No! He said only me. His boss wants only me. I have to be under the
Long Night Moon by midnight or they start sending more of her.” He choked on
the last few words.
    Sanngrid stared, the shock of
seeing him in this condition clear on her face. No one at Bradbury had ever
seen him like this, not even when he first arrived. “Whatever this is you have
about Sideways.” She shook her head and covered her mouth for a moment, looking
down at the hair spilling from the box. Then she met his gaze again. “Can you
do this?”
    His worst fears whispered no .
“I have to. I can’t let them kill her.” He pulled himself to his feet,
unsteady, nauseated, but standing.
    Sanngrid stood and went to work
assembling items onto a wheeled cart. “There’s a nightmare goblin in the
building. I have to take these to the Oracle. Then I will be back and we will
make a plan.”
    “You can’t go with me.”
    “The hell! Look at you! You’re in
no condition to do this alone.” Knives and short swords clanged as she dropped
them on the cart. “Besides,” she said as she opened an antique trunk. “Who
better to have your back while you raid the Long Night Moon than the daughter
of a Valkyrie and a Navy Seal?”
    Pete could think of no one better.
“We’ll have to keep you out of sight when we start to get close.”
    “Don’t you worry about me.” She
withdrew a weapon from the trunk, presenting it to him with great flourish.
“For you, my friend.”
    Bloodsinger.
    The sword originated in the Court
of Twilight, made of an obsidian blade a shining inky black and a hilt of
copper and quartz, all of it blended and hardened by Fae magic. It gleamed like
a clear star-filled night, its razor edge echoing of blood. The