She paused as they reached a page of sharp, angular glyphs. “This is ogre.”
Levet leaned forward, catching Inga’s cool, salty scent. It always refreshed him. Like a welcome breeze on a muggy night.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“Beware.”
“Oh.” What could scare an ogre? Levet shivered. He was fairly certain he didn’t want to find out. “That is…ominous. What are we to beware of?”
Inga made a sound of frustration. “It doesn’t really make any sense.”
“Why?”
She jabbed her finger against a half circle with a dot over it. “This means birth.” She moved to the next symbol, three wiggly lines. “And this means corruption.”
“Birth of corruption?” Levet’s mouth felt dry. Did it have something to do with the history of the ogres? Or the future? “Is there any explanation?”
“It’s a warning about an evil.” Inga glanced toward Levet, her expression bitter. “Which is ironic, considering it was written by an ogre.”
Levet understood. Her father had been an ogre leader who’d been in love with her mermaid mother, but the rest of the tribe hadn’t been happy with the relationship. They’d killed her father and sold Inga into slavery. Who wouldn’t hold a grudge?
“Do you think they mean the Dark Lord?”
She shook her head. “The way it’s written, it seems more like a taint than a physical creature.”
Levet grimaced. “The woman I encountered was very real. Look.” He pointed to the faint singe mark that lingered on his skin. The burning bands of magic had done more damage than he’d first realized.
Inga tapped her fingers on the desk, her brow furrowed. “I suppose the power might be capable of manifesting itself into a tangible form.”
“Manifesting.” Levet’s tail twitched as he reached to turn the pages to the gargoyle section he’d glimpsed earlier. “Or infecting,” he told her, pointing toward the flowing line of script.
“Yes,” she agreed. “That makes more sense.”
Levet wasn’t sure any of this made sense. The creepy fog. The strange woman. The missing werewolf. “So is this evil infecting demons?”
Inga shrugged, pointing at a gilded design at the bottom of the page. “Is that the symbol for demon?”
“Non.” The elaborate pattern of the design had simplified over the centuries, but Levet had no trouble recognizing it. “That stands for magic.”
Inga jerked, her face paling at his explanation. “Infecting magic,” she breathed.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
Inga shuddered. “I don’t think it is.”
Levet considered the strange fog that shrouded Ulric’s old village. Was it feeding off the magic left behind by the werewolves? The thought made his tummy cramp. “Is there a way to stop it?”
Inga turned the pages, pausing to study the various languages and images before she was at the last chapter.
“The rest of the book is written in a language I don’t recognize,” she admitted.
Levet clicked his tongue. “Typical. We just get to the best part and bam.” He slapped his hands together. “We are left hanging.”
“Now that is a shame,” a voice drawled from behind them. “I never leave a female hanging at the best part.”
Levet’s wings quivered with a sudden burst of anger.
“You,” he rasped, spinning on the desk to glare at the intruder.
Troy smiled, sashaying across the room.
Inga watched the imp with a lift of her brows. “How did you get in?”
Troy waved a languid hand toward the opening. “You left the doorway open.”
“Oh.” Inga grimaced, glancing toward the Tryshu in her hand. No doubt she was still trying to learn how to use the powerful artifact.
Levet didn’t care how the imp had gotten in. He just wanted the aggravating creature to go away. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“I was bored. Plus, the queen has a full schedule.” He flicked a dismissive glance over Levet. “She doesn’t have time to be pestered by an interloper.”
“Hey, I am no antelope.”
Troy shook his head, turning toward Inga. “How do you bear him?”
Inga hunched her shoulders. “He grows on you.”
“Like lichen?”
Levet cast a discreet glance over his toes and up his legs. There might be a little lichen. It wasn’t his fault. He was a gargoyle. They were supposed to be mossy.
Hearing Troy’s chuckle, Levet lifted his head with an annoyed frown. “I am going to turn you into—”
“Perhaps you can help us.” Inga abruptly interrupted his threat, stepping toward the imp.
Troy strolled to stand directly in front of the ogress. “Of course I can. I am a handy sort of fellow. I have talents most males can only dream of possessing.”
“You told me you were a diplomat,” Inga said.
Levet snorted in disbelief. “Troy? A diplomat?”
“I was. A thankless job,” Troy answered, his gaze never wavering from Inga. “Who wants to be polite to a tribe of evil-tempered trolls?”
“I wish they had eaten you,” Levet muttered.
Inga pointed a finger at the book. “Do you recognize this?”
Troy stepped forward, brushing Levet aside to study the strange glyphs.
“It’s dragon,” he at last announced.
“Pfft.” Levet flapped his wings in disgust. “I would recognize dragon.”
“Ancient dragon,” Troy insisted. “I recognize it from a vase I—” He bit off his words before clearing his throat. “From a vase I acquired from a lovely jinn who claimed that it had been in her family since the birth of this world.”
Levet wanted to argue, but he kept his lips pressed together. The aggravating imp seemed to know what he was talking about.
“What does it say?” Inga demanded.
“Hmm.” Troy’s lush, fruity scent filled the air as he concentrated on translating the symbols. “Something about protecting the door that is no door.”
“Door that is no door?” Levet scoffed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Troy pointed toward the book. “I’m just reading what’s on the page. You can discuss your confusion with the dragon.”
Levet sniffed. “I might very well do that,” he said. “As it happens, I am a close personal friend of Baine.”
“Go.” Troy waved his hand in a shooing motion. “Tell Baine I said hello.”
“That is it.” Levet gathered his magic. Perhaps a large wart on the end of Troy’s nose would wipe away that smug smile.
His glorious plan was interrupted as Inga abruptly headed out of the room. Was the female angry? Probably. And it was all Troy’s fault.
Stupid imp.
With a curse, Levet jumped off the desk and hurried after the ogress.
“Where are you going?” he demanded as he scurried to keep up with her long strides.
“I’ve seen that symbol before.”
Ah. She wasn’t angry. Good. He didn’t care what others might think of him. But he didn’t like the thought that she found him annoying.
“Where?” he asked, doing his best to ignore the imp following them.
“The treasure room,” Inga said, leaving the library and heading toward the royal chambers.
Several guards patrolled the hallways wearing the odd armor that looked like metal scales and carrying tridents. Inga waved them away, waiting until she, Levet, and Troy were alone before she halted in front of a door with a heavy lock.
Holding out the Tryshu, she touched it against the wood. Instantly it slid open. Levet was impressed. And a little jealous. He wished he had a magical trident.
Inga entered the room, followed by Levet and then Troy. A soft glow
of fairy lights filled the space at their entrance. The delicate balls of light floated above their heads, reflecting off the precious gems that encrusted the ceiling. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling in vivid, magnificent frescos. And the floor was pure marble flecked with gold.
But it was the stacks of chests that were the most impressive.
They were stuffed with coins, jewels, carved coral, and rare magical artifacts. The place looked like a dragon’s hoard. Only with an excess of pearls.
Troy whistled as he picked up a golden nugget the size of a football. “Well, well. You have a substantial dowry for when you decide to claim a consort, my dear.”
Inga scowled. “This belongs to the mer-folk.”
Troy shrugged. “And you’re the queen.”
Inga’s eyes flashed red. “If I have to buy a consort, I don’t want one.”
Levet stomped to stand at her side. The mere idea that she might purchase a mate was…outrageous. Unthinkable.
Completely, utterly, absolutely unthinkable.
“You are so rude. Any male would be fortunate to be chosen by Inga,” he informed the imp. “Besides, she has no interest in taking a consort.”
Inga sent him an odd glance before sharply shaking her head.
“It’s over here,” she muttered, leading them to a distant corner.
Levet ignored the priceless treasure stuffed into the room. He had no interest in riches. Yet another reason he’d been voted out of the Gargoyle Guild. He was far more intrigued by the paintings that covered the walls.
“Did your grandfather paint all of these?” he asked.
Inga nodded. “Yes.”
“It is easy to see who gifted you with your own talent,” he told the ogress.
Inga blushed, clearly pleased by his words. “I’m discovering there are many hidden frescoes that tell the history of the mer-folk,” she said, halting to push aside several treasure chests that must have weighed a ton. Then, bending down, she pointed at the wall. “You see?”
Levet and Troy stepped forward to study the painting. Surprisingly it represented two massive dragons in the middle of an epic battle. They were both an iridescent green with leathery wings, and both had flames shooting out of their mouths as terrified sea creatures fled in panic.
Levet shivered. He could almost feel the heat from the flames and the fear of the hapless victims caught in the middle of the battle. The fresco didn’t just tell the story. It captured the feelings of the moment.
A rare talent, indeed.
Then Troy broke into his bemusement by reaching out to lightly brush his finger along the bottom of the wall. “It does look like the same symbol,” he murmured, tracing the intersecting ovals that looked like a sideways 8.
“I’ve been studying the frescoes over the past weeks. I hoped they would give me a better understanding of my people. When I saw this one I just assumed this picture represented the dragon battles that nearly destroyed the mer-folk,” Inga said, referring to the war that had massacred a frightening number of mer-folk and sent them into hiding in this isolated lair. “I noticed the symbol, but I didn’t know what it meant.”
“Perhaps the dragons were fighting something that was trying to get out of the door,” Levet suggested.
Inga’s features twisted with dislike. She was never going to be a fan of dragons. Or ogres. Or vampires…
“It’s just as likely that their battle damaged it and released the evil,” she muttered. Then, without warning, she squared her shoulders. “I will see if I can discover the doorway.”
Levet and Troy stiffened, staring at Inga in horror. Then they spoke in unison.
“What?”
Inga looked confused by their outrage. “I’ve also studied the histories of the dragon wars. I think I can find this place.”
“We do not even know if it is connected to the fog,” Levet pointed out.
Inga shrugged. “There’s one way to find out.”
Troy clicked his tongue. “At least assure me that you’re not planning to go alone?”
Inga looked offended by the question. She hadn’t been raised to be a royal. She was a strong, fierce warrior who was used to taking care of herself.
“I’m not risking my guards,” she protested.
“That’s what they are for, my queen,” Troy reminded her.
Inga shook her head. “It’s my decision to go into danger. I want them to stay here and protect my people.”
Levet’s heart felt as if it was somewhere in his toes. He recognized that tone. Inga was going to look for the door. End. Of. Story.
“I will go with you,” he said, his wings drooping.
Troy stared at him with blatant incredulity. “You?”
Levet puffed out his chest. “Why not me?”
“You will sink like the proverbial stone.”
“I have magic,” Levet protested. “Besides, it is none of your concern.”
Inga cleared her throat. “Levet.”
Suddenly angry, Levet planted his fists on his hips. “You can take me with you, or I can follow.”
Inga blinked, seemingly confounded by his determination. “Fine,” she at last muttered, her cheeks flushed. “I need to put on my armor.”
Moving with remarkable speed for a demon of her size, Inga scurried from the room. Levet watched her depart, not entirely certain what had just happened.
Granted, he was a hero. And a Knight in Shining Armor. It was only natural he would offer his services.
But, quite honestly, the thought of traveling to some remote location at the bottom of the ocean to confront an evil capable of infecting magic…
Well, it was enough to dampen even his formidable courage.
He was jerked out of his dark thoughts when he felt a hand clamping down on his shoulder.
“Try to keep her from getting killed,” Troy drawled. “I have plans for that female.”
Chapter 13
Ulric was lost.
Standing in the thick mist, he struggled to recall how he’d gotten there. Something that would have been easier if his brain didn’t feel as if it was stuffed with the same fog that swirled around him.
He had a vague memory of running through the desert. He’d felt hot and sweaty and gloriously free. He’d even howled at the moon. All right, it was cliché, but what the hell. It satisfied the heart of his animal.
And after that he’d returned to Dreamscape. He wanted to be in the hotel before Chiron disappeared into his private rooms. Then what? He’d strolled into the main casino and…
Ulric’s heart slammed against his chest. Of course. He remembered now.
Brigette.
The female Were had been walking across the floor as if she had no idea that she’d just turned his world upside down.
His family hadn’t been utterly destroyed, he’d realized with a flare of elation. At least one member had survived. So where was she? And how had he gone from the casino to this gray nothingness?
Forcing himself to stand still, Ulric closed his eyes. Then, he concentrated on his wolf. The animal’s senses were far more acute than his human half. He waited for the familiar surge of raw, primitive power, but it never came. Ulric’s breath lodged in his throat.
He could feel his beast. It was curled deep inside him. But he couldn’t touch him. As if there was a mysterious barrier between them.
Clenching his hands into tight fists, Ulric refused to give in to the temptation to panic. His wolf was there. It was just muffled.
A hint of musk suddenly teased at his nose. Whirling around, Ulric watched as the fog thinned and then parted to reveal the female Were.
Brigette.
His heart swelled with joy. Thank the goddess. She hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. She was real.
His avid gaze swept over her, abs
orbing the long crimson hair that framed her familiar features. It wasn’t until she was standing directly in front of him that he noticed the smudge on her cheek and the dust that marred her long robe.
A strange unease tainted his euphoria.
He didn’t know why. Were’s weren’t like vampires—they didn’t mind a little dirt and grime. In fact, when he was in his animal form he loved to roll in the warm desert soil.
Still, the sight sent a chill creeping down his spine.
“There you are, Ulric.” Brigette smiled, but it oddly didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ve been searching for you.”
“Where am I?”
“Lost.”
He frowned. He already knew he was lost. “But…” His words faded away as a burning sensation drew his attention. Peeling up his shirt, he studied the deep scratches on his side. They were leaking blood. Why weren’t they healing? He glanced back up. “How did I get here?”
“You wandered away from me.”
“Hmm.” That seemed…unlikely. Why would he wander away? He had so many questions to ask her. They were spinning through his head so fast they were making him dizzy.
Why would he leave?
“Ulric?”
Brigette’s voice clawed at him. He felt unmoored. As if he’d been cut off from the links that bound him to reality.
“Yeah?”
“We need to go.”
Go. His sluggish brain tried to grapple with what she was asking of him. “Go where?”
“Home.”
“You mean the hotel?”
She shook her head with obvious impatience. “No, our home.”
Ulric flinched. He didn’t like to think about his village. Not after the massacre. “It’s gone.”
“We’re going to rebuild it.” She held out her hand. “Together. Isn’t that what you want?”
It should be, right?
“Yes.” He forced out the word.
“Then follow me,” she urged.
He was stepping forward when he caught the sudden scent of a summer mist. It stirred a memory. A pale face surrounded by sleek black hair and wide gray eyes. His heart quivered with longing.
He couldn’t leave her behind.
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