Read Starling for Free Online

trust whatever it is that attacked you outside.”
    “Not exactly. I’d much rather have them in here with you than out there with … whatever the hell they were.”
    Toby took a step toward Fennrys. His shadow wavered on the wall, a huge dark shape, and his boots crunched on grit on the floor.
    “But I’m a fighting man,” he continued. “And I saw what you did out there.”
    “Did you.”
    Toby got really quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Yeah. I did.”
    “And what, exactly, did I do, Mr. Fortier?” Fennrys’s voice was strangely flat and tight. As if Toby’s words were making him angry, but he was trying hard to leash that anger in. “Beside save all of you?”
    “You did, at that. What I’d really like to know is how.”
    “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Fennrys said, offering nothing.
    Toby grunted, and even though she couldn’t see him, Mason imagined him crossing his arms over his barrel chest and pegging Fennrys with one of his laser stares. “I’ve made my living training people in the martial arts. I know how to handle myself with swords, small arms, advanced hand-to-hand combat … I’ve got buddies who are Navy SEALs.”
    That’s a lie , Mason thought, frowning. Toby didn’t just have Navy SEAL buddies. Toby was a SEAL. Ex, maybe. But he was the real deal. She’d heard her father talking about it one day to his butler, just after Toby had been hired at the school.
    “Guess you’re a regular expert there, Mr. Fortier,” Fennrys said.
    “I’m enough of one,” Toby answered, ignoring the baiting, “to know that you could probably tear the hide off some of my friends without breaking much of a sweat.”
    “I don’t pick fights with the fairer sex, sir,” Fennrys said drily.
    Mason had to cover her mouth to keep from snorting with laughter.
    “Son …” Toby sighed in frustration. “You’re not even old enough to have developed those skill sets.”
    Through the wire shelving, Mason saw Fennrys’s eyes grow dark with confusion at the mention of his age. From what she could tell, Toby was right. The strange young man wasn’t much older than she was. Nineteen, maybe? Twenty at the most. With a body that looked as though he’d spent every single one of those years in serious training.
    Fennrys swallowed and remained silent.
    “I also noticed those marks,” Toby said, dropping his voice even further. “The ones on your wrists and ankles …”
    Mason had noticed them too. Bands of bruising and abrasions, layers of them—new welts on top of old scabbing—as though he’d been kept in restraints for a long time.
    “Are you in some kind of trouble, Fennrys?” Toby asked. “Running from something, maybe?”
    Fennrys uttered a shaky laugh. “When I figure that out for myself, Mr. Fortier, I’ll let you know. Listen. Why don’t you go back there and ride herd on your flock, okay? I’ll stay over here by the door. Out of the way. I won’t bother you. I won’t bother them. I think you’ll agree that going back out into that storm isn’t an option—even if the draugr are gone. We should wait until sunrise to be sure.”
    “Wait. What did you call them?”
    “Sorry?”
    “You gave those things out there a name.”
    “I …”
    Mason leaned forward, peering intently through the metal grating of the shelf. There’s that look again , she thought. The one that made this Fennrys guy seem as though the things that came out of his mouth were as much of a surprise to him as to whomever he was speaking to.
    “Draugr,” he said again, rolling the word over his tongue as if trying to identify its taste. “You’re right. I did.” His gaze flicked back up to Toby’s face, but his blue eyes were hard, cold. He put up a hand, forestalling Toby’s next question. “Don’t ask. I don’t know how I know. I don’t remember .”
    Toby was silent for a moment, and then he said, “But you know that they’ll be gone at sunup.”
    “I don’t know that.” Fennrys