by D. D. Miers
“So you are working for him?”
“No.” He slowly unfurled his jacket again to cover his arm. “The limit of his seal is varied. It would take me time to explain it.”
“Even if you succeed in following him, as he clearly wants you to, you’re going in blind. He will have Shades ready . . .maybe worse. He’s not going to let you come in ready to battle him. He will want you weakened.”
“If you want to talk, keep walking.” Alana hurried back into the pace she had been moving at earlier. A second later, Jax was back at her side.
“You really think I am going to trust you now? Even with that,” she nudged to his arm, “you’re a threat.”
“I’ve gotten around it before, I’m getting around it even now as we speak.”
They paused to let two cars pass. When the road was clear again, they sprinted to the other side of the street. She saw the front of the abandoned industrial warehouse up the block. “That doesn’t change the facts. You’re compromised.”
Jax said, “What other choice do you have?”
When they finally reached the worn-down, graffiti-covered exterior, Alana stopped. “What are you suggesting?”
“You’re probably not gonna like it.”
She frowned. “That’s reassuring.”
Voices sounded up ahead and a group of teens rode their skateboards down the sidewalk.
“Let’s get inside, then we’ll talk.” He stretched his arm out, indicating she should lead the way.
Alana used her cell's flashlight app and climbed through the three-foot-wide opening in the cement wall. She slipped in, legs first, and jumped. She landed on a pile of empty glass bottles and beer cans. Dust scattered in the air around her, and she covered her mouth and squinted her eyes. Seconds later, a large thud sounded behind her as Jax jumped down.
She kept going, farther in until she was certain that no one had—or would be—anywhere near them. Finally satisfied, she circled on Jax. He stood only a foot behind her and she practically ran into his chest. He smelled like smoke and whiskey and just being this close to him again reminded her of the odd comfort she felt in his arms.
But Alana didn’t do heroes. She was the hero.
She dropped down to her knees and zipped open her backpack. "All right,” she said as she pulled out the first two elixirs, “what’s your plan?”
He looked down on her. “We need to disarm him. Make him confident and at ease. He’s more vulnerable that way.”
“And what’s your point?”
He crossed his arms and smirked. “We need bait.”
“He already has my sister and he wants me to follow him. That much is obvious." Alana hunched back onto the heel of her boots. “What else could he want?”
“You.”
“Me?” Alana tapped her chest.
“Yes.”
“Explain?”
Jax crouched down beside her and the proximity made Alana want to move back. But if she did, he would know how he affected her.
“If I bring you in, bound and at his mercy, he won’t need to sick his minions on you. You can be walked right into his lair, unharmed.”
“And why would he believe you would do that?”
“He doesn’t know we are allies.”
“Are we?”
Jax’s brows threaded together in annoyance. “I thought that was clear.”
Alana released the backpack and stood. “I did, too, until you screwed me, not once but twice when Damon was within my reach.”
“I protected you.”
“Me? Or your interests?”
“You,” he growled.
They stared at one another, anger radiating in the black shadows surrounding them. “You set up the ring, recreate his location, and then we go through, with you as my prisoner.”
“What?” Alana laughed. “Like bound and gagged?”
Jax didn’t move, maybe he didn’t even breathe, his gaze serious. “Yes.”
“You’re talking about a lot more than trust. My sister’s life is on the line here, too. Not just mine.” She slipped a band from her wrist and tied her hair into a high ponytail. “How do I know you won’t betray me?”
“You’re just going to have to trust me.”
Alana bit her lip, considering it. Both options were shitty. She could charge in on her own without him. But he was right. Damon would inevitably have an army waiting for her on the other side. She'd be lucky to make it to Damon at all, and she wouldn't be in good shape when she got there. Not great odds for her and Taylor making it out alive. And knowing Jax, he'd follow her anyway, end up back in range of his brother's control, and be forced to kill her himself. Not a situation Alana wanted to walk into if there was another option.
But the other option was to surrender herself to Damon, all but helpless before an incredibly powerful warlock who wanted her dead, under the guidance of his brother, who might just be convincing her to walk into a trap. Even if he genuinely wanted to help, he might end up magically compelled to kill her anyway. Neither choice was appealing.
She tried to decide if she trusted him. He stared at her, earnest concern in his eyes. She sighed, making her choice, and pointed a threatening finger at him.
“If you betray me, I’ll kill you. Make no mistake.”
For the first time since he’d shown up, he smiled. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”
With most rifts, Alana only needed to see it once, and then she could recreate the source, almost like recalling a keycode and following through. But Damon’s potent magic was on another level. Complicated and unpredictable. To end up at her desired destination and not some shadowy void, she had to be precise.
Alana took out chalk and marked the ground beneath her. She started with the edges and worked her way in, making sure her symbol was correct. She grabbed the two beakers of elixir and uncorked the tops, taking a sip of each and letting the ethereal essence open her mind and connect her to Damon’s rift source.
She knelt in the center, aligning her magic with the circle she'd built, which lit up in response, glowing softly white as it echoed the power she pushed through it.
“Once I access his rift and open it, you can bind me. But not before.” She took a slow breath and closed her eyes, readying herself for the dark magic to slam into her the moment she reached out.
“Understood.”
Alana peeked open one eye. “You need to come in here with me.”
She watched Jax step over her lines, making sure not to disturb the magic she’d inscribed on the floor. The center circle was barely large enough for the two of them, forcing Jax to press his legs wide, to situate Alana between his thighs.
She waited until he stilled before she closed both eyes again and let her Gale magic reach out. Death and desolation hit her first, causing a thin layer of sweat to break out on her brow. She continued on, calling out with her magic for ten minutes before she opened her eyes. The beginnings of a rift formed in the empty air beside them. A small, pea-sized hole appeared in the air. A blue-black electrical tinge pulsed from inside of it as the first trails of Damon’s necromancy swirled out.
When she looked at Jax only feet from her, the breath caught in her throat. Intense admiration and something unknown lingered in his gaze.
“You can bind me now.” She lifted her hands, palms up between them. As he conjured a set of binds and wrapped them around her first hand, she jerked. “Just don’t make me regret this decision, Jax.”
He gently wrapped the black leather in a knotting pattern, weaving the pieces in and over one another. The final tug was tight, and she tensed at the motion.
“You see this small end right here?” he asked, pointing toward a cut of the leather no larger than a half-inch. “When the time is right, grab this with your pinky and tug. It’s the loophole in the knot. It’s a weak spot.”
Alana nodded. Seconds later, cracks spread like shattering glass as the rift opened for them. The scent of charred ashes and incense wafted into th
e abandoned building. Alana grabbed her backpack and rose to her feet and so did Jax. She gripped the straps of her bag and faced the rift, waiting for the moment when limited access would be available.
“Remember, Alana. You’re supposed to be my prisoner.”
Bound and at the mercy of not one warlock, but two, Alana jumped, praying she’d made the right choice.
Chapter 13
For someone who had far less experience timejumping, Jax landed like a pro on the hard floor in a solid crouch beside her. His left palm rested on the ground before him, steadying his pose.
Inside. They were definitely inside of . . . somewhere.
The rift light dissolved into dappled sunlight, dazzling her eyes as it came through the arched floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the wall to her right. Silk sheers drifted gently in the breeze caused by their arrival, brushing the rich marble floors. She rubbed her eyes to clear the lingering rift-blindness, taking in the opulent mansion they appeared to be standing in. The only sound was the ticking of an antique baroque clock farther down the hall.
Classical statues stood between every few windows, staring at them impassively with white marble eyes. Heavy wooden doors along the left-hand wall led farther into the house. The colors seemed strangely saturated, giving everything an air of unreality. Alana studied the windows curiously. They all looked out on a garden in full, late-spring bloom. But none of them looked out at the same garden. The garden through the window next to her was magnolia trees and hydrangea bushes. The next window was cherry blossoms and wisteria. The one after that sunflowers and delphinium . . .
Tension rippled in her chest, distracting her from the surreal garden, as a scream echoed from somewhere within. God, Taylor! she thought, afraid she recognized the scream. She reached down, ready to tug on the end and free herself, when Jax’s hand stilled her motions by blocking the bind.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, but he didn’t answer. He only jerked her forward as he moved past her, leading the two of them down the hall.
You’re his prisoner, Alana reminded herself. And if Damon watched their actions, he needed to treat her like one.
Did he know this place? He guided her as though he had intent. Intent of his direction. Most warlocks kept manors, sometimes caves, where they always returned. Their single resting place. The one they hid in obscure realms in order to protect themselves.
They traveled down two grandiose staircases before landing on the ground level. Taylor’s voice echoed again, nearer this time, and Alana quickened her steps. Jax grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her through an arched door.
The room beyond was vast and circular. Dark aubergine walls arched up to a domed ceiling where baroque golden panels separated inlaid classical frescoes. Impossible windows ringed the room, showing the same lush, ever-changing garden even though Alana knew, by virtue of having walked through the house, that the windows were interior walls. Half those windows should have been looking out on the same hallways she'd just walked down.
A massive throne sat In the center of the room. Despite its size, it was surprisingly delicate, ivory and gold, with the back branching into an interwoven web of intricately carved antlers. The seat was vermillion velvet, like a wound in the side of a great, strange beast.
Damon sat in the throne, his leg hung over one arm, his posture making it clear he had not a care in the world. He was dressed to match his décor—modern, stylish, but unmistakably royal in black leather and velvet. A crown, thorny and golden, perched on his dark hair like a final ironic joke.
Taylor slumped against the side of his throne to his right. Her sister's normally commanding presence was muted. A heavy iron chain bound her wrists, its end draped casually across Damon's lap, secured to the side of his throne. It looked like all the fight had gone out of Taylor. She looked gray and drained, her hair disheveled and her clothes wrinkled in a way she would never have tolerated normally. She didn't even look up as Alana entered. Alana's heart screamed at her to do something. She moved forward without thinking, only stopping when Jax yanked her back.
Damon leisurely swirled his finger over the large goblet in his hand, eyeing Jaxon with wary skepticism. “So, you’ve finally come to your senses, brother?”
“I’m tired of this war between us.” Jax pushed Alana forward, and she fell onto the Persian rug at his feet on her hands and knees. “A gif, to show my loyalty.”
“Your loyalty?” Damon chuckled. “You’ve been disobeying me for years now. Tell me brother, how did you find a way around my seal?”
“If I’d found a true way around it, you would’ve been dead years ago.” Jax tipped his head. “I mean no offense, of course. I’m just stating the facts.”
He smiled like a lion to a lamb. “No offense taken.”
Alana looked up and saw the twisted smile played across Damon’s lips. Jax was right, his incredibly enormous ego would be the end of him. Her eyes flashed to the chained figure of her sister beside him. A new gray streak lined her tawny hair, the makings of a binding ritual in process.
Yeah, fucking right. Alana would die before she let Damon turn his sister into one of his imps, sucking at her life source until she was nothing but a husk of humanity.
“You expect me to just accept this offering?” Damon glared at Jax. “After all the trouble you’ve caused me?”
“I do.” Jax crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Whether you want to admit this or not, with the target currently on your back, you need me.” He sidestepped over Alana still resting on the floor, drawing his brother's gaze to follow. “Defeating one Stol warlock is hard, but not impossible. But to defeat two?” He paused and let his words sink in. “Hopeless.”
Damon sat upright and studied Jax. “And what of the object she stole from me?”
“We have it here.”
Alana rose to her fee., “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just let my sister go.”
“Now why would I do that? Here you are, practically wrapped up in a bow, ready and at my mercy while your sister sits as my prisoner.” He gestured in Taylor’s direction. “You have nothing to barter with.”
“The orb has been sealed to me.”
His eyes narrowed into tight slits and his demeanor went from cocky and controlled to enraged.
“If you want it, you’ll need me to remove the seal.”
“Since when does a no-one caster have the power to seal an object?”
Jax glanced over to her, surprise lighting his eyes and Alana answered. “Since she left Que’ Theran’s tomb sixteen years ago.”
She wasn’t going to reveal her heritage to him. Being Fae kissed placed a giant target on her back by those who would both seek to use her or destroy her.
“Very well. You present my artifact, show me it’s still intact, and I’ll release her.”
Jax removed the backpack from Alana’s shoulders, but with her bound hands it could only loop around onto the ground beside her.
He opened the zipper and rifled through various things, until he pulled out the artifact wrapped in a white dish towel.
Slowly, Jax unwrapped it but Alana stopped him. “Wait” she said
Jax looked over to her. “Be silent.”
“You can’t touch it with your bare flesh. Only I can.”
Jax studied her a moment, then turned his attention to Damon. His brother gave him a single nod and Jax handed it to Alana. She cradled it in her palms awkwardly, as she pulled off the last of the cloth.
Damon rose from his chair, his eyes fastened to the glowing orb in her hands as he marched toward her. Alana’s pinky reached out, feeling for the small loose end that Jax had shown her before. She needed to wait. Wait until he was far enough away from Taylor before she could make her move. Five feet from her, Damon stilled. He looked down then from Alana to Jax.
Shit. He could sense the power she’d been hiding.
He raised his palms and cast. Alana tugged the thread and the bindings on her hands dropped. With on
ly a second to act, she leapt out of the way, the fiery purple ball he’d conjured barely missing her and smashing into the marble where she’d just sat. She rolled and skidded across the floor, landing protectively in a crouch before a chained Taylor.
“Lana, be careful!” Taylor screamed from behind her.
She called her magic summoning an air shield around them. She couldn’t risk running again. She needed to end this, here and now.
Jax tried to strike at Damon, but the other warlock tossed another flaming purple ball and froze him in place. This close to Damon’s power, it was no use in fighting the seal. He’d have too much potency for Jax to resist.
No, this was solely up to Alana.
“Lana, there!” Alana followed the jolting nod of her sister’s head. In the far corner, unprotected and unclaimed, was Taylor’s gun. It was a bit mundane, but even warlocks weren’t immune to the power of a speeding bullet.
Alana lunged into Damon’s direct path. The damn warlock had heard her sister’s cry and was determined to stop her at all costs.
Out in the open, and freed of the air shield she’d erected around her sister, she was too vulnerable. She ran across the floor until a forward thrust of Damon’s hand had her skidding into a face-planting halt.
Plastered down on the floor, she winced as another flaming purple ball flew into the space immediately in front of her and shattered more of the pristine marble floor. It had missed her by mere inches because she had come to a sudden stop.
“You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?” Damon asked as she scrambled to get back to her feet. She was too late as his boot swung toward her side, sending her careening across the floor in a heap of limbs and agony.
She wrapped her arms around her middle as she moaned a lengthy groan. Taylor’s desperate cries overpowered her.
“Get up!” She screamed, “Do something!”
It was too late. Damon hovered over her, and he laced his hands around her neck. He squeezed hard, cutting the air off from her lungs and leaving her vision spotted with stars. She pushed against his wrists, hoping this wasn't her end.
