Chapter 34
TIPPY
A moment after the glass shattered into a thousand pieces, there’s another explosion. It sounds like it’s coming from the foundations of the Vault.
A deep boom resonates around the room. The walls shudder and shake.
Finally, the echoes die down, the shaking ground calms beneath us, and all is still.
I dare to peep through my claws.
Everywhere around us on the floor there are fragments of glass. Aurora is helping my aunt to her feet. Luckily, none of us appear to be hurt.
The books on the plinth are completely still.
“What happened?” I look to Aurora for guidance. She cocks her head, as if tuning into something.
I wait, watching her face, my breathing erratic. “Listen,” she whispers, holding up her hand.
And then I detect it. The distant echo of a bell tolling.
“The gates of hell have closed,” Aurora says quietly.
“Is that a good thing?” I ask, my heart still pounding fit to burst out of my ribs.
“Yes, my dear.” Aurora smiles. “A very good thing.”
“Does this mean Marsha and her demons are defeated?” Aunt Felicia asks.
“They are.” Aurora’s lips tilt upward. “The Dawnwrought Coven was always going to win out. It was just a question of how messy it would get in the process.”
“So… our warriors are safe?”
“Yes, Tippy, they are. And what’s more, so are all the monsters of the Labyrinth. Safe and free. The dark powers can hold us in the Labyrinth no more.”
My aunt looks at the glass on the floor. Always the practical one, she says, “Should we perhaps find a broom and sweep this up?”
Aurora shakes her head. “They’ll do it after we leave. Self-cleaning is part of the books’ magic.”
“How very considerate of them,” My aunt beams. She picks up her abandoned knitting, frowning. “Damn,” she mutters under her breath. “Was I pearling or knitting?”
With a sigh, she sits down and starts to unpick the thread.
“If it’s okay with you both, I will go and rest a while,” Aurora says. She looks fatigued, and I am sure she played a part in the events that have just transpired.
We both nod, and she disappears.
Still somewhat shaky, my only choice seems to be to return to the recipe I was working on.
But I just stare at the page, unseeing, for what seems like the longest time. I guess I’m still in shock.
There’s a sudden flurry of activity from the three books. A rainbow of sparks passes between them.
“I think they’re homeward bound.” Aunt Felicia folds her knitting.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“The Red Book is whispering words I can understand.” She pops her knitting into her purse. “We must head back to the sheriff’s house to welcome our warriors.”
I abandon the potion recipe, which I think is almost ready.
Sure, I mean, he’ll need to rest. He’s had a huge day. But my belly is ripe, my heat is peaking, my body longing for his touch.
Sexual healing. That’s what we both need.
In our little den. On level three. I hope this will be sanctioned. I hope there’s not some weird rule that the High Priest needs time to be alone after defeating demonic powers.
I really don’t think I could stand that. It feels so long since we’ve made love.
I glance at my aunt.
“I thought when Jax returns, we might erm, go to the den on level three for a few days. I’m working out a healthy erm, meal plan to help him regain his energy.” I tap my pen on my lip and try to look innocent, but my aunt sees right through me.
“I fully endorse that,” she says, her eyes twinkling.
When we enter the sheriff’s house, wonderful aromas meet our nostrils. A meal awaits the crew, of course—Sally has been cooking all day with a band of other monster helpers, folks from around these parts whose faces I know, a goblin, and a couple of friendly trolls.
They look flushed from the heat of the kitchen, the old oven working overtime, and they beam at the three of us as we enter.
“Can I help?” I ask.
Sally shakes her head. “Please, ladies, take your seats.”
They’ve laid the table. Someone has mended the broken chairs.
Sally wipes her hands on her apron, cocks her head in Mom’s direction. “We heard a big boom. All the crockery shook. So it’s all done, then?”
“It is done. Mission successful.” Mom smiles.
A moment later we hear the rumble of vehicles outside.
My pulse spikes.
And then comes the sound of voices and laughter, hearty and jovial, followed by the thud of heavy-duty boots in the hallway.
The kitchen door swings open and they bail in, Jax, Traggar and Otis, half a dozen of the deputy sheriffs following.
My gaze eagerly searches Jax’s face.
His green eyes meet mine, and flare emerald.
And everything else—the chatter, the congratulations, the relieved laughter—all retreats into the background.
And without hesitation, I run and jump into the arms of my mate.