Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
It explained Lanie’s miraculous recovery from death. Explained the increase in power her friends had noted. René had said that it sometimes took time for a soul like Orion to find an appropriate body, but I’d taken that to mean a suitable male body with the right power output.
Orion had obviously not been as fussy as that.
Amusement seemed to play about her thin lips, but she—he?
—didn’t say anything. He simply got on with his spelling, his words reaching a fever pitch while the vortex behind him strengthened and grew, consuming Monica’s prone form at a more rapid rate.
If it fully encased her, we would lose her. For good.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I drew the knife and threw it hard at the shield protecting Orion and his prize.
It hit the bubble of energy surrounding her and lodged hilt deep, but it didn’t explode the shield or even stop him spelling.
But cracks radiated out from where the knife was lodged, suggesting it was affecting the magic within the shield, even if at a far slower rate.
It wasn’t enough though—that vortex would snatch Monica away long before either me or my magic could get in there.
I swore, then spun, picked up the leash of magic binding the demon, and hauled it into the air.
It was heavy—fucking heavy—but I thrust more power into the leash and, with a grunt of effort, threw it at the wavering shield.
It hit hard, and the shield flared brightly, its magic burning the demon wherever flesh met magic.
It roared, scratching and clawing at Lanie’s magic, causing the protective bubble to pulse and shimmer.
One claw sliced through a widening crack and caught Lanie’s hair, tearing a huge chunk from her scalp.
She screamed in fury and pain, but her magic didn’t slow, and the vortex behind her had now reached Monica’s chest and arms. In a few more seconds, it would totally consume her, and she would be gone.
If I lost her this time, we wouldn’t get her back. I was certain of that if nothing else.
I wrenched the demon back and flung it at the shield again.
Sweat broke out across my forehead, and pain lanced through my brain.
I hissed but pushed more strength into the leash, forcing the demon headfirst into one of the bigger cracks forming in the shield.
Half its head disintegrated as it went through, but it didn’t die.
Instead, it whipped its razor beak from side to side, snapping at the body of the woman who stood only a few feet away.
Orion’s magic was reaching its peak now, and the vortex had all but swallowed Monica.
But the force of the demon’s weight seemed to have weakened the protective spell even further, and a larger gash was now appearing within it. I called a cage spell to my fingers and pulled my arm back to unleash it.
Just as Monica disappeared.
I swore and unleashed my cage anyway. Lanie’s gaze met mine again, and there was a mocking light evident deep in her silvery eyes.
She reached out with one hand, casually caught my spell, and crushed it.
Then she released it and allowed the broken spell to fall like rain from her fingers.
The smile that played about her lips was as mocking as her gaze.
“A good try, young witch, but we both know the likes of you could never hope to stop the likes of me. It is not within your power. She is mine, and I will have my revenge.”
And with that, she stepped back and allowed the vortex to consume her.
Anger swept me, anger that stemmed as much from the sting of his truth as the hopelessness of failure, and in that moment, I did the one thing I’d promised my brother I wouldn’t.
Something stupid.
I ran straight at the still disintegrating shield and launched into the gap between it and the demon. I flung out a hand on the way through and caught the threads surrounding the knife, dragging it after me as I hit the ground, scrambled upright, and dove again, this time into the closing vortex.
I made it, but only just. As the vortex’s magic closed around my feet, a maelstrom of magic picked me up and swept me into a deep void of gray.
There was no sound in this place other than the rapid tattoo of my own heart, and no smell beyond the stink of my own fear.
It felt like I was falling for what seemed forever, and yet I had no sense of movement.
But just as I feared this was nothing but a trap, that Orion hadn’t repaired his shield because he wanted me to follow him into this void and be forever trapped, I was spat out onto a cold, hard surface.
Concrete. Concrete that was damp and smelled vaguely of oil. A garage of some kind?
I warily opened my eyes and looked around.
It was definitely a garage. An old Ford was perched on three jacks several feet to my right, and the walls beyond it were lined with shelves filled with all sorts of car parts, oil containers, and god only knew what else.
Rain danced lightly across the building’s tin sheeting, and somewhere behind me, water dripped, suggesting a leak.
What I couldn’t hear was Lanie or Monica.
I had no sense of magic either, and I wasn’t sure whether to be worried by that or not.
It was possible Orion was all magicked out after raising that transport vortex, but he was a dark witch and had other options at his disposal—like using Monica’s life and blood to fuel whatever spell he wanted to raise next.
Was that likely? Maybe. He undoubtedly wanted her dead, but he was also desperate for revenge, and part of that was Tane witnessing said death. Orion wanted Tane to feel the same depth of grief and the loss that he had when Tane had taken out Orion’s family.
But most of all, he wanted to reclaim what Tane had stolen from him—the Lancet rune.
Of course, it all raised one more vital question—did Tane value his daughter more than the power of that stone? Despite the recent display of concern over his daughter’s disappearance, I really couldn’t say one way or the other.
I pushed wearily to my feet and spotted the glitter of silver to my left; the knife had made it through with me.
I walked over and picked it up. The magic spelled onto the blade caressed my fingers, and I frowned, suddenly wondering how that was possible.
Silver was often used as a conduit for magic, but its properties generally made it impossible for spells to sit easily on it.
That was a question to ask René once I got out of this situation.
If I got out of this situation.
If you didn’t, a sharp voice behind me said, it would be totally deserved. What you did was reckless.
I half jumped, then spun around. Atticus sat three feet away, his tail swishing violently from side to side. You just about gave me a fucking heart attack.
Deservedly so, given you gave me one when you dove into the void. That was stupid.
Yes, but I couldn’t afford to lose Monica or Orion.
Neither of whom are in this wretched place. He paused. Orion? Was that not Lanie?
Yes, but her soul is no longer in residence.
That does explain her ability to create the vortex and the magic that thwarted us in that house. I take it you have a plan?
Beyond finding and stopping Orion? Absolutely not.
He snorted. Then it is just as well I am here to offer expert guidance.
You know what they say about experts.
His gaze narrowed. No, I do not. Enlighten me.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, I couldn’t help grinning. An ex is a has-been, and a spurt is a drip under pressure.
He sniffed. It was an unimpressed sound.
From outside came the soft rumble of an approaching vehicle. I padded across to the old wooden doors and peered through a crack. I didn’t recognize the car, but I did recognize the man who climbed out.
Tane.
I frowned. How did he get here so fast? How much time has passed?
Just over an hour.
What? I wasn’t in the vortex that damn long.
They tend to warp time, either stretching or compacting. What likely seemed like minutes to you was in fact much longer in the real world.
Which explained why Orion wasn’t here even though I’d leapt into the vortex only seconds after him. His spell had stretched time for me; maybe I was lucky it had even spat me back out. Why did it take you an hour to find me, though?
If you are not in this world, you cannot be traced.
You’re able to step between worlds. Surely that gives you a tracing advantage.
A vortex is basically a tunnel that is formed between the real and the spiritual worlds. I cannot trace such magic.
Outside, a door slammed. I peered back through the crack and saw Tane striding toward the garage. I swore softly and, after a quick look around, quietly ran around the car and dropped down beside the one remaining tire.
And not a moment too soon.
The old doors were flung open, and fingers of magic spun through the room, seeking, testing.
The bracelet on my wrist pulsed lightly as the fingers approached, and they skipped over me and ran on, passing right through Atticus’s ghostly form.
His tail swished in annoyance, but he otherwise didn’t comment.
After a moment, Tane retracted his magic and continued on. I dropped to my belly and watched him from underneath the raised car. He skirted around several old red drums, then stopped in front of another metal shelf.
“I’m here, as you asked. Where is my daughter?”
There was a beat, then Lanie said, seemingly from nowhere, “Did you bring the runestone?”
“Yes, but you’ll not get it until my daughter is free.”
“I could kill you now and simply take it.”
“Destroy me, and you destroy it. I have linked my life to its presence in this world.”
“A clever move,” came the response, “and not one I expected from a follower of the light rather than the dark.”
“There are many shades of light, Orion, just as there are many shades of darkness.”