by Amy Sumida
Darcraxis leapt for Gargo. The men tumbled. Fists made contact and blood sprayed.
“Flee!” Darcraxis shouted at us.
Darc's second of distraction cost him. Gargo shifted into Gargoyle form, tossed Darc aside, and dove for me. I grunted as the air was driven out of my lungs. We rolled up to his feet and yanked me with him, his hand around my throat. His clawed hand.
“This body suits me so much better. Not only is it lusty and strong, but it's the perfect vessel for my magic.” His claws extended until a trickle of blood ran down my neck. “Uh-uh-uh,” he chided the men who drew closer, their eyes full of fury. “Don't make me hurt her. I would be very upset, especially now that I have such grand plans for Elaria.” He pulled me against his chest and licked away my blood. Shivering, he added, “Delicious and deviant plans.”
The men circled us, magic coasting over them and collecting in their hands. Verin pulled a long, thin sword out of thin air.
“We're not letting you take her,” Declan declared.
“Of course not,” Gargo scoffed. “But I don't require or desire your permission.” He extended his wings and started to lift us into the air.
Verin tossed aside the sword—which vanished—and shifted so suddenly that I barely caught the transformation. One second he was a man and the next, a Dragon. He didn't have wings but he was enormous and merely had to stretch his neck to reach us. His whiskers wound around Gargo's hand, yanking it away from my throat as his Dragon jaws closed around Gargo's waist.
“Don't hurt him!” I shouted even as I fell free.
In response, the Blue Dragon coiled its long body around mine and transported us through the Veil; magic crackling off his whiskers like lightning.
Chapter Forty-One
“Where are we?” I asked after we reformed.
“My palace.” Verin shifted back to human.
“But the others won't know to come here.”
“It was instinct.” Verin shrugged and headed through an archway, leaving me behind.
That's when I noticed he was naked. I averted my eyes while he got dressed and set my stare on the room instead. A bedroom. A luxurious one. With a bed large enough to sleep a dragon... if he coiled up properly. If I hadn't been so upset, I might have been affected by the sight of such a blatantly masculine and exotic room; onyx sheets edged in gold, indigo stone floors covered in Oriental rugs, and a vaulted ceiling that, again, could accommodate a full-sized Lóng; a fact that our arrival had just proved. But the room only reminded me of Slate and his preferred style of somber elegance. And I had just abandoned Slate to battle Gargo alone. Gargo, who was killing Slate's people and using his body to do it.
I covered my face with my hands and pushed the heels of my palms into my eyes. Despite my effort, a few tears slipped past the barrier.
Warm hands slipped over my shoulders and pulled me against a solid chest. The scent of leather and Verin rose around me. I let out a shivering breath, lowered my hands, and wrapped my arms around him. The comfort he offered broke my control and I began to cry; silently at first and then in big, body-wracking sobs. I wept in the way that I hadn't allowed myself to do around my men; not since the Lucifer incident. I didn't want them to see me break; I needed to be strong this time. But my control had been steadily weakening around Verin and it had finally shattered.
Verin offered no judgments, only comfort. His arms became a safe haven I could fall apart within. They held me together, supporting me when I collapsed, and his head bowed over me to form a complete shield. I felt his cheek press against the top of my head and one hand began to stroke my hair soothingly but he didn't say anything. Didn't even make a sound. Verin just held me until I felt strong enough to let go.
I stepped back at last, swiped at my eyes, and lifted my stare to Verin's. His eyes had gone indigo. What emotion was this? Perhaps the shade of his stare wasn't an indicator of a particular emotion at all, but instead, a gauge on how much of it he felt.
“Where will they have gone?” Verin asked gently.
I blinked. Processed. Right; my lovers. Sweet stones, Elaria, focus!
“Kyanite,” I said as I extended a hand to him. “Will you come with me?”
For an answer, Verin took my hand and held on tightly.
Chapter Forty-Two
“There you are!” Gage grabbed me and yanked me into his arms.
“Is everyone okay?” I asked as I hugged him back.
“We're all fine,” Torin confirmed calmly.
“All of us except for Slate,” Darc growled furiously.
“How the fuck did Gargo get into him?” Banning asked.
“Slate and I were just talking about Gargo,” I murmured. “How God souls can't be destroyed. How Darc and I had imprisoned parts of ours but we didn't do so with Gargo's. We even asked Daha if Gargo's soul was the one wreaking havoc around the Zone; if it was haunting us.”
“And what did Daha say?” Darc's gaze went piercing.
“Daha said it was Gargo's blood causing the trouble and that his soul was definitely not loose.” I grimaced. “That's why I was sure it wasn't him.”
“His soul wasn't loose,” Declan noted. “It was in Slate.”
“Why would he mislead you?” Darc mused.
“I think Daha believed I'd be hurt if I knew about Gargo too soon,” I mused.
“How long has Gargo been in Slate?” Gage asked furiously.
“When I asked him that on Pyrosvesti, he implied it was a quite a while,” I reminded him. “What if he's been in Slate since Lucifer exorcised him from Poseidon?”
“It's very likely he has,” Darc surmised. “All Gods are different but, if Gargo is anything like we were, he'd be able to survive in spiritual form for as long as he wished. But if that were the case—if he'd been roaming free all this time—when he decided to return, he could have simply created a new body for himself. One that would have been far more powerful than Slate's.”
“But he didn't,” I murmured. “So, that tells us he was likely weakened by the war and couldn't create a new body.”
“And yet he managed to take Slate's,” Declan argued.
“My point exactly,” Darc said. “Even at his strongest, Gargo wasn't able to force his way into a Beneather's body; he had to trick Poseidon into letting him in. So, how did Gargo get into Slate?”
“Yes; that's the question!” Gage growled. “Care to hazard a guess?”
“Slate was unconscious when Gargo was expelled from Poseidon; the perfect target,” Torin concluded.
“And, as a Gargoyle, he was also the perfect host for Gargo,” I muttered. “Practically custom-built for him.”
“I'm so sorry this hasn't saved your lover,” Saif said to me. “I know this puts you at greater risk too.”
“Saif, I'm the one who's sorry. Please forgive me for dragging you and your family into this when it wasn't your fight. I was so certain it was the Jinx, but I was wrong.”
“Nonsense,” Saif waved his hand. “You spoke only what you believed to be true, and we owe you, either way. Plus, you may still make use of the bottle we crafted. Nothing is wasted. The only thing that has changed is that my parents can now rest easy knowing that our end has not come.”
“Still, I'm sorry that I worried you for nothing.”
“Because of you, we are better prepared to handle the prophecy if it should ever threaten us again,” Saif countered.
“I'm relieved that you feel that way but please, go home, Saif. Give your parents the good news and convey our most sincere apologies,” Darc urged. “We don't want to keep them in suspense any longer.”
Saif bowed his head. “I will return if you have need of me.”
“Thank you, but no; we'll be fine. And consider your debt repaid,” I said.
“Then this was more than worth the effort,” Saif declared. “Good luck to you with Gargo and the vengeful Jinni, should he ever appear. If there is anything we can do to help free Slate Devon, please let us know.”
> “Thank you; we will. Goodbye, Saif.”
“Goodbye, everyone.” Saif disappeared.
“Now what?” I whispered forlornly.
“Now, we call Lucifer,” Darcraxis announced.
The other men sighed but nodded.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Lucifer could probably exorcise Gargo again but then what? Gargo has already proven that mere exorcism won't work on him. We have to either contain his spirit or destroy it.”
“I don't suppose the Jinn bottle would work?” Banning asked.
“Doubtful,” Declan muttered.
“Then destruction it is. But how do you destroy a God's soul?” Banning countered.
“I think I may know,” Torin said, sounding surprised.
I frowned at him. He stared back, lifting his brows pointedly. I frowned deeper.
“When we first met, we encountered something that can destroy magic,” Torin reminded me.
“The bombs,” Banning whispered before I caught on.
“What bombs?” Declan asked.
“You can't be serious.” I gaped at Torin in horror.
“It would destroy him; Gargo is pure magic,” Torin pointed out.
“What bombs?” Darc asked.
“We destroyed them all,” I continued to speak to Torin. I couldn't deal with the others yet.
“But Quinlan could make one if we needed him to.”
“What bombs?!” Gage roared.
I took a breath and let it out. It trembled... as I did.
“The Copper King found a way to create magical bombs,” Torin finally explained it to the others.
I closed my eyes, unsure if this was a course we should take. Not that I didn't trust the other men with this secret. I just didn't want a weapon like those magical bombs out in the world. Any world.
“King Cyrus would never—” Gage started.
“Not Cyrus,” Torin interrupted. “Lorcan, the King before him.”
“King Lorcan made a magical bomb?” Declan shrugged. “So what?”
“Not a magical explosion,” I clarified. “An explosion that destroys magic.”
The room went silent.
“It functions similar to an atom bomb, except where an A-bomb splits an atom, the magic bomb uses a malevolent spell to split an otherwise harmless spell,” I went on. “The destruction of the harmless spell causes a chain reaction and the blast takes out everything magical within a certain radius. I've seen it work on Shining Ones.”
“Sweet stones,” Declan whispered. “Do you know what a weapon like this could—” His expression lit with revelation. “You used it in the Sapphire War, didn't you? That's how we got past the Sapphire Gardens.”
“Yes,” Torin answered immediately. “And those were the last of the bombs we confiscated.”
“What about the bomb makers?” Declan asked. “I mean, beyond King Lorcan, who I assume you killed?”
“Yes, we killed them all,” Torin confirmed. “And by 'we' I mean; a few of my soldiers, Elaria, and Banning. I was busy entertaining you and the rest of our allies.”
“Great gems,” Declan muttered. “I remember the exact night; I'd been wondering where Elaria was.”
“We also destroyed all of the information about the bombs,” I added. “We had hoped to never deal with them again.”
“But you said that this Quinlan could make one,” Declan reminded Torin. “So, apparently, you didn't destroy all the information.”
“There's nothing on paper, but I'm certain Quinlan could reproduce one from memory. He's an alchemist who I enlisted to inspect the bombs.”
Declan gave Torin a heavy look.
“I trust him,” Torin said firmly. “He would never use his knowledge to build new bombs. Not unless I asked it of him.”
“Couldn't we just make an orb to trap Gargo like we trapped our magic?” I asked Darc.
“We were only able to do that because our magics are counterpoints,” Darc reminded me. “Mine was able to confine yours and vice versa.”
“But we know what can confine Gargo,” I argued. “Water. We just need an orb of water to put his soul into.”
“Something like that would take a lot of time to construct,” Declan mused. “And we wouldn't be certain of its efficacy until we put Gargo inside it.”
“Whereas, the magic bombs are certain to work,” Torin concluded.
“Oh, fuck me,” I whispered. “Are we seriously going to remake weapons that could lead to world-destroying wars?”
I caught Verin's stare; it was indigo again.
“Slate's life hangs in the balance, Elaria,” Darcraxis said grimly. “The choice is yours. What do you want to do?”
Well, when he put it like that...
“Build the damn bombs.”
There wasn't much I wouldn't risk for Slate.
Chapter Forty-Three
Torin walked down to the castle gates to use his stone to travel to Onyx. Tír na nÓg, the Shining One Realm, was protected by some of the most powerful wards in existence. No one could get through without an invitation. However, a Shining One traveling stone is akin to an invitation, and Gargo had Slate's stone so we had to keep our individual wards in place.
The rest of us took seats in my living room to discuss our new plan; destroying Gargo. We hadn't contacted Lucifer yet. I wanted to wait until we had something concrete to offer him. I sat between Gage and Banning with the rest of the men on couches and chairs around us. My guys had given up on pushing Verin and me together for the time being. I had the RS tell them what Verin had said—that nothing had changed and he still wanted no part of me—but they thought that made him a perfect option. In theory, Verin would be happy to leave when the spell had been reined in. He'd get a chance to have me without paying the price. I, however, thought they were being idiots, and RS took great delight in relaying that message as well.
“Once we get Gargo out of Slate, we'll be facing the same problem that got him in Slate,” I said. “He'll be loose.”
“So, even if we can find a way to destroy him, we first need a way to contain him,” Banning concluded.
“But if we had a way to contain him, we wouldn't need to destroy him,” Gage pointed out.
“But we do have a way to contain him.” I looked at Darcraxis. “Temporarily.”
“The Shining One blade,” Darc murmured. “It's meant for transfer but it should be able to hold Gargo until we can set off a bomb.”
“The bomb will likely destroy the knife as well,” I warned him.
“That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.”
“What if we need it again.” I widened my eyes at him pointedly.
Both of our God magics had been growing; they were what had prompted the RS's growth. It was possible that the power wouldn't affect us beyond that, but that was more likely with Darc. With me, there was a greater risk that I might become Faenestra again.
“If we have to, we'll figure out a way to make a new knife,” Darc promised. “Right now, we have a tool that can help us, and I don't think we should let the possibility of something happening in the future prevent us from using it.”
“And the best part is; if we use the knife, we won't have to ask Lucifer for help,” Banning pointed out.
I chuckled and shook my head; partially because I agreed with him.
“What knife?” Verin asked.
“It was created by the Shining Ones to imprison their Gods,” I explained. “It was what they used to sever my soul and collect the powerful part of it. Then they plunged the knife into an orb of Darc's magic, trapping that part my soul inside, and sent the rest of me into a human body to reincarnate over and over.”
Verin made a low sound of surprise.
“It was meant to be a punishment but it ended up being the best thing to ever happen to me. I saw life from another perspective; one of the creation instead of the creator.” I slid my gaze to Darc and smiled softly. “Darcraxis never needed that; he always understood them better than me. He alway
s loved them. I suppose that's why they left him whole.”
“You loved them too,” Darc protested. “In your own way.”
I snorted. “A vicious way. But the point is; the knife was made to trap God magic—a God soul, in particular—and then transfer it into a prison.”
