Chapter 20
Grayson
As the Wringer’s layers unfurled in his mind’s eye, Grayson knew it was going to be a brutal race.
The circle was a multilevel construct, twisting and turning from cursed-filled layer to curse-filled layer.
Threads of interconnected triggers linked the layers and were an expected complication since the hex’s intent was to tear through mental walls at all costs.
Magic pulsed through the lines, seeping into triggers and dripping into the next layer as it continued its grim march.
There were only a few more layers left before it would kill Russ.
Stopping it would require finding the right rune at the right layer and reversing it.
He raced ahead of the magic powering the circle to the remaining untouched layers, then he started working his way back toward the encroaching threat.
Time warped and stretched as he examined what lay before him.
For a Key, magical skill went hand in hand with intuition, so he followed his gut and let his magic sweep along the lines.
It brushed over the intent and will of the caster, felt the change as it approached a trigger, then spiraled off to the next line, continuing to search for that elusive difference that signaled he’d found what he was looking for.
The faint worry he was too late hovered in his mind as he drew closer to the sickly-orange glow rolling toward him like molten lava.
Then he felt it—at the edge of a rune, a small, jagged snag that shouldn’t exist. He zeroed in on it, taking precious time to unravel its original intent, and then moved to the one layered just beneath it. That one was the doozy.
Dammit, it’s going to be tight. If he didn’t time this right and flip both triggers in the right order at the right time, they’d lose more than Russ. For a second, he considered stepping back, but Cass needed answers.
Hell, so did he. He positioned his magic. “Zane, when I say go, grab Russ and get clear.”
“Say when.”
Grayson went to work on creating an opening for Zane to use.
“The chair,” Cass warned.
“I’ve got it,” Zane told her.
Grayson pried the circle open. “Go!”
There was a rush of movement as Zane followed his order, but Grayson was already shoring up the temporary path as he went to work on the triggers.
Ugly flares of power surged forward, attacking Grayson’s magic.
Grayson ignited the first trigger just as a screech of metal sounded.
There was a series of guttural grunts then the ear-splitting whine of a chair being dragged across the cement.
He ignored it all, concentrating on the magic that beaded down toward the next layer.
Just before the first drop hit, he flipped the second trigger.
The glowing construct in his mind went dark, the lines and layers flaking away like ashes in the wind.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “You good?”
Grit bit into his hands and knees, and he realized he was no longer standing. Zane was crouched next to him, his face concerned.
“Yeah,” Grayson managed, shoving upward until he was sitting on his ass. “I’m good. Russ?”
Zane’s expression turned grim as he shook his head, straightened, and held a hand out. “Come on.”
Grayson took it and let the other man help him to his feet. They stepped around the now empty shackles and chair and joined Cass, who knelt next to the prone Russ.
“Come on, Russ, wake up.” When Grayson crouched next to her, she asked, “Why isn’t he waking up?”
“I don’t know.” He took in Russ’s drawn gray features.
There was a bruise along one side of his face, likely where he’d been clocked when kidnapped, but there were no other physical signs of harm.
Releasing him from the circle should have ended whatever metaphysical and mental torture he’d been caught in.
Instead, he was too still. He carefully shook the man. “Russ. Wake up.”
When that only produced a faint groan, Grayson scanned him for any lingering spells. He found traces of a lethal hex that had been obscured by the Wringer and bit off a particularly nasty oath. They had mere minutes to get answers before Russ was a dead man.
He looked at Zane. “I need him conscious.”
“How long do we have?”
“Minutes, so whatever you can get me.”
Zane nodded then knelt on Russ’s other side, put his hands at Russ’s temple, and closed his eyes.
A gold-tinted green glow ringed Russ’s head like a crown.
Zane’s eyes remained shut, and his hands held tight as Russ’s lashes started to flutter.
When they finally lifted, the dark eyes were hazy and unfocused.
“Now, Cass,” Grayson urged, knowing they wouldn’t have long.
Cass leaned in so she would be all Russ would see. “Russ, who cursed Sofia? Who took you?”
The dying man stared up at her, his confusion clear. His lips moved, but no sound emerged.
Cass tried again. “Russ, who cursed Sofia? Was it you?”
Awareness sparked at Sofia’s name, and Russ jerked, but the Zane’s hold didn’t budge.
Russ clutched Cass’s arm. “Sofia. You have to save Sofia.”
“I’m trying,” Cass said. “Tell me who cursed her.”
Russ grew agitated, yanking at her arm as he tried to escape Zane’s grip. “Not cursed, loved her. Stop them. Going to hurt her.”
Cass paled. “Who? Who’s going to hurt her?” she asked sharply.
“Get to her, Cass! Don’t let—”
Cass let out a pained hiss as Russ’s fingers locked on to her arm and his body bent in an unnatural arc, his eyes widening and his mouth opening in a silent scream. When his body slammed into the ground, those wide eyes were empty.
Zane cursed, released his hold, and stated the obvious. “He’s gone.”
Cass scrambled to her feet, her face pale but determined, her eyes wild with panic when they met his. “We have to get to my parents!”
He rose with her, grabbing her hand, afraid if he didn’t hold on, she’d be gone. He looked at Zane. “You’ve got this?”
Zane nodded. “Go. Keep me posted.”
“Got it.” Without letting go of Cass, he headed out, trusting the Hunter to clean up the mess. Cass was tugging against his hold when Zane called his name, and when he stopped to look back, she made a frustrated noise.
Zane’s pitiless gaze met his and held it. “Make sure you take protection. You don’t know who or what’s lying in wait.”
He thought of his kit and the gun locked in the trunk of his car and knew which he’d be carrying. “I’m covered.”
Grayson had barely pulled up to the house before Cass had her door open and was halfway out of the car. He threw the car into park as she found her footing and took off.
“Gods dammit, Cass, hold up.”
She totally ignored him.
He grabbed his compact, lightweight nine-millimeter from the console, shoved his way out of the car, and rushed after her. He managed to catch up with her as she fumbled with the keypad lock on the front door.
“Come on, come on, come on,” she chanted under her breath as she lifted and reset her shaking finger against the keypad. The light turned from red to green, and she went to grab the knob, only Grayson got there first. She clawed at his hand. “Let go!”
With one hand on the door and one holding the gun, he went with the only option left to get her to take a breath—he crowded her up against the door, using his heavier weight to hold her in place. “Calm the fuck down, Cass.”
It came out mean, but it did the job. She stopped trying to get away and fell still, the only movement the rise and fall of her chest as she sucked in air.
She matched his tone. “Let me go, Grayson.”
Pressed as close as they were, he could feel the aggressive tension shimmering under her skin. If he did as she asked, he’d get a fist in his face, guaranteed. “You going to step back and let me go first?”
It wasn’t really a question. He heard her teeth grind as she gave him an abrupt nod.
Knowing that was the best he’d get, he kept his hold on the door but angled himself so she could slide away.
She didn’t look at him as she jerked away.
Instead, she stood to his side, her hands fisted at her sides.
He was fairly certain no one lay in wait, mainly because their arrival would be hard to miss especially since the front door was tinted glass.
Still, it was better to be cautious than dead.
He held out the gun. “Do you know how to use this?”
She gave him a look hot enough to burn, snatched the gun from him, and repositioned her grip with an easy familiarity.
Then she took up a position on the other side of the door.
With his hands now free, he called to his magic and held it at the ready.
A Key’s offensive magic might be limited, but it could deflect a variety of magical attacks, which would give Cass the opening she’d need to level the field.
He gripped the handle, turned his body to present less of a target, looked at Cass, and mouthed, “Ready?”
She gave a short nod, her face grim, her hold on the gun steady.
He turned the knob, felt the latch slide clear, and shoved it gently open. Cool air was the only thing that rushed out. After a few breathless seconds, Grayson moved inside, Cass on his heels.
“Dad!” Cass shoved past him and rushed to the man sprawled face down on the floor just in front of the hall that led back to the bedroom and office.