Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
I glance over my shoulder at him one last time.
He looks dangerous…and tired…and impossibly alone.
Please be careful, I think, even as I lead Hanna out into the hall.
Because if something happens to him—if things go wrong between him and the Necro Don and Lucian gets hurt…
I don’t know what I’ll do.
55
Lucian
The doors of my office have barely closed behind Julia and her friend when I turn back to the warded circle at the center of the floor.
The room still smells of fear.
Not Julia’s—hers is sharp but controlled, threaded through with concern and loyalty—but Hanna’s. It’s a thin, fraying scent, like frost creeping over dying leaves. It lingers in the air, clinging to the stone and wood as though her soul itself has brushed against something cold and hungry. Something that wants to consume her, body and soul.
Malthus—that bastard!
My jaw tightens.
I cross the chamber in three long strides and reach for the Crimson Vox, the speaking device mounted atop a black obsidian pedestal near my desk. It is an ancient thing, older than the Spires themselves—an orb of dark crystal veined with living red light, suspended between three clawed prongs. The blood within it pulses faintly, responding to my presence.
I prick my finger and press it to the crystal.
The Vox flares, hungry and excited to be used.
The Blood Lust stirs in response—low and restless—but I ignore it. This is a necessary sacrifice.
The air before me folds inward with a sound like silk tearing and I utter a single name.
“Whistler!”
The Realm-Hopper steps out of the In-between, boots hitting the carpeted floor of my office with a muffled thump. His long leather coat flutters once before settling, his sharp grin already in place.
Before I can speak, he throws up his hands.
“I know you need to get rid of the other Curvy Queen I brought by accident, your Fanginess,” he says. “I’m arranging a passageway right now. It’s just that it’s harder to get from the Shadow Realm to the Human world than the other way around.”
Flippant, as ever. I could wring his neck for his unserious attitude. Somehow, I restrain myself.
“I am well aware of the difficulties,” I say coldly. “I’m calling to tell you that we need to speed things up. The woman you brought—Hanna—has been Soul-marked by an emissary of the Hollow Necropolis. We must get her back to the Human world quickly before her soul is siphoned away to the dark lands that lie behind the Bone Gates.”
Whistler’s expression shifts instantly—gone is the grin and his eyes widen.
“Soul-marked you say?” he demands. “Fuck, your Fanginess—excuse my language—but that’s a heavy spell. The Necro Don must really want her!”
“I am afraid he took a liking to her the very night you brought her over,” I say grimly. “But she is under my protection—I cannot simply allow her to be taken. She must be returned to the Human world within the next twenty-four hours—the sooner the better.”
Whistler runs a hand through his hair in obvious agitation.
“But my Lord—that’s going to come at a huge cost!” he protests. “I mean, it can be done, but whoever does it will have to make a very expensive and difficult sacrifice to provide the energy.”
I expected as much—the Shadow Realm demands payment for every impossible thing.
“Let me worry about that,” I say coldly. “I will pay the necessary price—I will make the sacrifice.”
The words taste like blood in my mouth but I don’t try to take them back.
“Prepare the portal,” I tell Whistler. “She must go back by tomorrow morning at the very latest.”
Whistler stops pacing and bows deeply.
“Yes, my Lord.”
He does not call me Your Fanginess again. The humor is gone—he understands now…and so do I. This undertaking will be an enormous effort…and the price tag won’t be cheap.
The Vox dims as Whistler vanishes back into the In-between, leaving the chamber eerily quiet. The red glow fades, but the echo of power lingers—along with the ache of what I know is coming.
A direct portal through the In-between. Not a gradual crossing…not a guided slip but a forced passage.
The magical expenditure will be ruinous. I will have to give up what I love the most.
I close my eyes for a moment and Julia’s face rises unbidden—her laugh…the warmth of her body against mine…the way she looked at me this morning when she trusted me without reservation.
I want to push the knowledge of what must be done away but honor binds me tighter than any spell.
Hanna is my Curvy Queen’s friend, which means Hanna is mine to protect.
And Malthus—
My eyes open, burning, as anger washes over me.
That son of a bitch made of bones!
How dare he invade another Don’s realm? How dare he lay claim to a woman under my protection? How dare he reach into my lands and mark her soul like prey?
This is not politics…this is not negotiation.