The fourth blow didn't come, and for a second that was worse.
Everyone in the cellar listened. The alarm kept ringing outside. Men were shouting in the courtyard now, too many voices to separate, and somewhere above us a horse screamed.
James looked toward the passage. "We move."
Daphne was already at the door. The older woman still had hold of my sleeve.
"The tiger..."
"I know."
"You don't."
That was probably true. Upstairs, wood cracked, and something heavy hit the floor. Her grip tightened. I looked at the thirteen people behind her: two children, a woman who could only walk because I had fixed just enough of her ankle, a girl holding injured ribs, a man whose neck I had closed thirty seconds ago. None of them were ready for a fight. Neither was I, but that mattered less.
"We're leaving," I said.
James looked at me. "Upstairs?"
"No."
That surprised him. It surprised me too. Daphne didn't react, which was right.
"We came for them," I said. "We get them out."
