Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Raiden
Tabitha is still fastening her shirt closed as I push her toward the door.
Fuck, will we make it out alive? I understand the reasons the Council prohibits teleporting in and out of government facilities, even nearly deserted ones like this.
Security against the nosy and unexpected is important—but damned inconvenient.
Unfortunately, that precaution could seal our fate.
I curse. This is my fault. If I hadn’t been so concerned about Tabby’s feelings—and so obsessed with tasting her—I would have sensed the intruder’s approach sooner.
Now, it might be too late.
Bloody fool! She’s better off without you…
Finally, Tabby finishes buttoning her shirt over her lush breasts and ties off the rest around her still trim waist, stealing back precious seconds. “Hold off the intruder. As long as you can.”
Before I can ask what the devil she thinks she’ll be doing in the meantime, she dashes around the desk and yanks a drawer open, rifling through the contents.
“We don’t have time for this.” I grab her wrist.
She jerks away. “Whoever is coming knows we’re here. We won’t get a second chance to search this office. My father wanted this family tree protected. He died for it,” she reminds me fiercely.
“And you might, too.”
“Stop arguing and go!”
Go? She’s gone mad. “You’re pregnant. If you die, our youngling—”
“Dies with me, I know! If you’ll help me, perhaps we can prevent that.” She shuts the first drawer as quietly as possible and dives into the second, rifling through one file folder after another.
Stubborn woman. Her plan goes against my every protective instinct, but Tabby is right. Once we leave here, someone—probably the Anarki—will descend. Then whatever her father wanted her to protect will be long gone. And what if he hid something that could turn the tide of this bloody lopsided war?
“Three minutes,” I growl, hating to concede even that long. “If I send up a red spark before then, get the hell out.”
She nods, sparing me one lingering glance. I stare back, fear for her and our youngling thrumming through my veins.
Racing from the office, I creep into the once-bright reception area, staying in the shadows. I glimpse two entrances onto this floor. The door in front of me remains firmly closed. The other lies around the corner, all but a sliver of which lies out of sight.
It’s a calculated risk, but I close my eyes and force myself to focus, filtering through the sounds and scents permeating the building. Searching for the telltale signs of a living presence. Or more than one.
There in the stairwell. I feel a life essence. Strong. Then I hear footsteps, stealthy.
A creaking door a moment later confirms my worst fear. Whoever’s stalking us emerges onto the floor and closes the door soundlessly.
Too late to call for backup now. I have to hope that our surprise visitor can’t sense me waiting and counter my attack.
Otherwise, Tabby and I are dead.
The intruder creeps closer, keeping to the shadows. I catalog all visible details about my foe. Male based on the scent. Sweat hangs in the air. Excited but not nervous. I’d bet my wand he thinks he has us cornered.
Unfortunately, the bastard is probably right.
Twenty meters, fifteen, ten, five. One breath… Now!
I’ll get one clean swipe at this wanker before I lose the element of surprise and the fight is on.
Finally, a tall figure eases around the corner, light on his feet, almost elegant. Poised for battle.
I hurl a spell designed to stun a wizard unconscious.
At the last second, the intruder steps aside with a laugh. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”
Then he turns to face me. My gut plummets to my toes.
Mathias d’Arc.
Bloody hell.
Terror sets in when the magical sociopath whips his wand and an arc of green light streaks through the wall of windows behind him, bursting across the sky with an eerie glow before fading.
He’s calling in reinforcements—the kind who won’t hesitate to kill Tabby.
Fuck, we have a shrinking handful of moments to get out of here, but I can’t run into Lowery’s office to retrieve or protect her. Besides alerting Mathias to Tabby’s presence, I’d trap us inside with no escape route except out the window and a four-story free fall.
Suddenly, a jagged bolt of white light arcs across the space between us. I hit the ground, barely dodging it. I feel the lethal heat of the spell skate over my head, singe the hair on my arms. What the bloody hell was that?
Mathias curses. I take advantage of the moment and scurry across the floor, using the room’s deep shadows to conceal myself and game-plan an attack.
Groping my way to the far wall, I take cover behind a big potted plant and hurl a fire spell at Mathias, the orange ball crackling and screaming through the air.
It hits him, setting his sleeve ablaze. He shoots an evil glare in my direction and lifts his other hand above his forearm, fingers dangling.
I don’t waste time watching. I scramble to the door separating me from Tabby and shove my wand through the crack underneath, sending up a quick red spark. I hope like hell she takes the warning and flees instead of tumbling into Mathias’s path.
Message conveyed, I twist around and clock Mathias’s movements through the shadows.
Water trickles from his fingers like a faucet, extinguishing the fire I flung his way.
He isn’t even breaking a sweat. What I hoped would be a game-changer sputters out, reduced to nothing more than a momentary annoyance for a wizard of Mathias’s legendary power.
Bloody hell, no one has fought the villainous wizard one-on-one and lived to tell.
The Doomsday Brethren have discussed strategies for this possibility.
I’ve heard war stories. I’ve trained for this.
But coming face-to-face alone with one of the most cunning wizards in magickind’s history?
My worst nightmare. The fact that Tabitha and our youngling are trapped so near this deadly struggle only makes everything more horrifying.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Mathias singsongs with a laugh. “I’ll be merciful and make certain your death won’t hurt. Much, anyway.”
Fuck that.
I roll beneath a low bench near Lowery’s office door. On the other side, I sense Tabitha’s footsteps approach cautiously over the mad thudding of my heart. I’m the only defense Tabby has against Mathias. I’ll do everything I can to distract Mathias so she can escape.
Heart pounding, I somersault from under the bench, leap to my feet, and charge Mathias with a roar. He whirls, wand poised, as I jump on the round table in the middle of the reception space, making myself the biggest target possible.
In what are probably my last moments, one thought tears through me: has Tabby guessed how much of my heart is hers? I pray she and our youngling reach safety.
Then my senses narrow on Mathias. I’m above him now. Like me, he has no place to hide. I’ll have to take advantage of the high ground and keep the evil wizard occupied as long as I can.
With a grunt, I kick the vase of dead flowers at my feet toward Mathias’s head.
The wizard ducks to avoid it, then flicks his wand.
I don’t want to know what spell that evil blue streak holds as it heads my way.
Instead, I jump over the bolt, then whip my wand at the bench I once hid under.
I hurtle it toward Mathias, who dodges, taking cover behind the reception desk.
The bench crashes against the wooden semicircle with a clatter.
In that moment, Tabby opens the door to her father’s office. With my free hand, I frantically gesture her to the stairwell. With my wand, I shoot a fireball at the reception desk, gratified when it bursts into flame and explodes.
Mathias dives away, glaring as he whips up another wall of water, dousing my spherical inferno. His seething anger sears the air.
“This game grows tiresome, neophyte.”
He’s not wrong. Mathias has known centuries of warfare. I transitioned into my magic a mere sixty years ago and spent too many of those nights as a lover, not a fighter. Now, I curse every night I’ve spent carousing instead of learning how to defend myself and the ones I cherish.
“Time to finish you off,” Mathias growls. “And find out what—or who—you’re protecting.”
My blood turns to ice.
On the far side of the floor, I sense Tabitha approach the other stairwell. They’re well lit, and the second she opens the door, the light will spill into the darkened reception area—unless I mask it.
I clench my teeth and gather every shred of energy left before I whip my wand in an arc and thrust my arms wide.
Blinding light fills the space. I scream with all my frustration and fear, praying the sound will cover Tabitha’s exit.
If I die protecting her, the sacrifice will be well worth it. No matter what, she must escape.
Mathias rushes me, shielding his eyes with a growl. I’ll never beat him magically, but thanks to Marrok, the Doomsday Brethren’s only human warrior, I’m a well-trained, conventional-warfare machine.
With a shout, I leap off the table, straight onto Mathias.
He tries to scramble back, but I take him to the ground, pinning him to the floor with my larger body.
His wand falls from his hand, clattering across the floor.
With grim satisfaction, I reach for the knife in my boot.
I’m going to slit his fucking throat and celebrate while he bleeds out.
But he roars, bracing one foot against the floor and shoves me off. Suddenly, I’m on my back, the air punched out of my lungs, struggling beneath Mathias, who smiles down at me with malice.
“Enjoy your death. Send me a postcard from hell.” He conjures up a wicked blade that gleams in the shadows and thrusts it against my throat.