Blessed goddess.
Sally coughed at the cloud of dust as Levet gave a squeak of alarm. Roke, however, calmly inspected his handiwork before turning to join them.
“That should keep them out,” he said, his eyes shimmering with a breathtaking silver glow as Levet abruptly formed a small ball of magical light.
“Where are we going?” Sally demanded, allowing Roke to lead them toward a fork in the passageway and down a path that looked like it’d been abandoned for years.
“This leads to the older mines,” he explained, his voice distracted as his gaze searched the darkness for unseen enemies. “There are a hundred tunnels; they can’t guard them all.”
It wasn’t actually a plan, but Sally didn’t have any better solution, so tugging the blanket up to her knees, she followed his swift pace. She was eager to put as much space between her and the approaching vampires as possible.
She wasn’t going back in that cell.
Period.
Levet brought up the rear, his light bouncing off the jagged walls of the tunnel, and his low grumbles providing a welcome distraction for Sally.
Roke didn’t seem nearly as appreciative, occasionally tossing a dark glower over his shoulder. Thankfully for the health of the tiny gargoyle, the tunnel began to angle upward, branching into a dozen smaller passages that demanded Roke’s full attention.
Nearly half an hour later they reached the mouth of the mine, stepping into a wooden building filled with long-forgotten mining equipment.
“Wait here,” Roke muttered, silently gliding across the floor to peer out a busted window.
“Well?” Sally prompted when his hands clenched in obvious frustration.
“They’re spreading out,” he admitted, turning to meet her anxious gaze. “We’re going to have to make a run for it.”
Her mouth went dry, her palms damp at the very real fear they were trapped.
“I can’t outrun vampires.”
Slowly he moved toward her, holding her gaze. “I can.”
“But . . .” Her words ended in a gasp as he reached down to scoop her off her feet, cradling her against his chest. She instinctively pressed a hand against his chest as the other kept the blanket in place. “No.”
His dark face was unreadable, but she could feel the urgency that thundered through his body.
“Sally, let me help you. I . . .” He struggled to speak, his regret at having failed her a tangible force. “I need this.”
Levet scurried toward the open door, his tail whipping around his feet in agitation.
“They are coming.”
Roke held her gaze. “Sally?”
“Fine.” She gave a jerky nod, a rising panic making it difficult to breathe. “Let’s get this over with.”
His arms tightened, his expression warning of dire consequences for anyone stupid enough to try to stand in his path. Then, gesturing for Levet to go first, they headed out of the shack at a speed that made her eyes water.
Wrapping her arms around Roke’s neck, she glanced over his shoulder.
Oh . . . crap.
As fast as Roke might be, he was weakened and forced to carry her while his clansmen were obviously fresh as freaking daisies.
“They’re gaining on us,” she forced past the lump in her throat.
Roke’s pace never slowed, but his head turned toward Levet who had taken to the air to keep up.
“Gargoyle, if you have any magic, now is the time to use it,” he growled.
“Oui.”
Turning midflight, Levet pointed his finger toward the pursuing vampires, muttering a spell in an ancient language. The air prickled with a surge of magic, making sparks twirl around the gargoyle’s hand before it was shooting straight toward the vampires.
Peering over Roke’s shoulders, Sally prayed for the desert floor to split open to consume the pursuers. Or at least for a massive explosion that would slow them down.
Instead, what she got was a sputtering shower of sparks that was about as lethal as a firecracker.
“That’s it?” Roke rasped in disbelief.
“It is more than you can do,” Levet muttered in sullen tones.
“Shit.” Coming to a halt, Roke lowered Sally to her feet and stepped in front of her.
Sally pressed a hand to her thundering heart, sweat trickling down her spine despite the chill in the air. There were few things more frightening than watching a half-dozen vampires circle her.
But while she could literally taste the fear racing through her, she fiercely refused to panic.
Not this time.
Grimly, she focused her surge of emotions on the magic that bubbled deep inside her.
She wasn’t going to be taken without a fight.
Thankfully ignoring her, the tiny blond-haired vampire strolled toward Roke, her gaze flicking toward Levet with blatant disdain.
“I wondered how you escaped your lair.”
Roke folded his arms over his chest, his silver eyes slowly meeting the gaze of a nearby clansman, waiting for him to lower his head in a sign of submission before moving to the next. He continued the process until each of them had silently conceded his alpha status before shifting his attention to the woman who refused to back down.
“You left our lairs unprotected?” he asked, the dark accusation meant as much for the warriors as for Zoe.
Still, it was the female who answered. “No, Dyson remained behind to make sure this wasn’t a distraction to leave the clan vulnerable to an ambush.”
“At least someone is thinking clearly.”
Zoe tilted her chin, her expression defiant. “Just as you will be thinking clearly once we’ve broken the witch’s hold on you.”
The earth trembled beneath their feet as Roke released a tendril of his power.
“I don’t want to fight, Zoe, but I will.”
She spared a brief, hate-filled glare toward Sally before she took a step toward Roke, her hand held out in a gesture of peace.
“Please, Roke,” she pleaded. “You know you can trust me.”
Roke’s eyes were hard and cold as diamonds, his face looking as if it’d been carved from granite.
Sally gave a small shiver. She and Roke had been growling and fighting since they’d first laid eyes on each other, but he’d never, ever looked at her like that.
She hoped to God he never did.
“I’m taking Sally away from here.” His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the lethal intent. “If you try to stop me you’ll be hurt. End of story.”
Zoe flinched, but her determination never faltered. Sally might have admired the female’s courage if she didn’t suspect it stemmed from Zoe’s intense desire to claim Roke as her own.
Bitch.
“We can discuss this back at my lair,” Zoe said.
“No.” There was another mini-earthquake. “Let us go.”
“We can’t. You know that.” Zoe pointed toward Sally, although her gaze never shifted from Roke. “So long as the witch has you in her power, you’re in danger.”
“In my power?” Sally muttered beneath her breath. “Yeah, right.”
Of course the vampire heard her. “Shut up, witch.”
Roke growled low in his throat, the sound making Sally’s hair stand on end.
“You will speak to her with respect.”
“Roke . . . this isn’t you. You would never choose a woman over your clan. And certainly never a witch,” Zoe tried to soothe, while Sally took a step away.
It didn’t take a genius to know that the shit was about to hit the fan. She needed to be prepared.
Returning her concentration to her magic, she frowned as she felt a heat spreading across her stomach. What on earth? Cautiously she held the blanket out just far enough that she could peek down to discover what was causing the strange sensation.
She hastily swallowed her gasp at the golden glow that surrounded the music box clutched in her hand.
This was different from the shimme
r that outlined the glyphs.
This light encompassed the entire box and was pulsing like a heartbeat . . . God almighty, it was pulsing in time to her heartbeat.
Which meant that whatever magic was happening was directly connected to her.
But what did it mean?
Would the box help to amplify a spell?
Or would it actually interfere?
Only one way to find out, she abruptly decided, lifting her head as Roke’s argument with Zoe reached its inevitable conclusion.
“Sally is my mate,” Roke was snarling, his hands lifting as the vampires began to press closer. “My loyalty is to her.”
Zoe grimaced. “I’m sorry, Roke, but someday you’ll thank me.” She gave a wave of her hand. “Take them.”
It was now or never.
Sally closed her eyes, speaking the words for a stun spell. She’d never tried to use it against vampires, but it was the only offensive spell she would work against such a large number of enemies.
If she could plait the air into a tight enough weave before releasing it, the explosion should be able to stun the vampires long enough for them to try to make another stab at escape.
A long shot, but better than nothing.
Unconsciously stroking her fingers over the box that had warmed until it was almost painful, Sally snapped her eyes open and spoke the word that would release her spell.
At first nothing seemed to happen and Sally’s heart stuttered to a horrified halt.
She didn’t know if she was strong enough to survive being thrown back into that dark, lonely cell.
Not with her sanity intact.
Then, abruptly the strands of her magic began to form, threading together at a dizzying speed. She clenched her teeth, feeling as if she were being yanked inside out by the swelling power.
This was bigger than a simple stun spell.
The realization had barely formed when the threads began to glow with a dazzling light. It reminded her of something . . . another magic she’d recently seen.
Oh, hell.
It was the portal that the imp had formed to bring her to Nevada in the first place.
She desperately threw out her hand, trying to grasp ahold of Roke before she was sucked into a swirling tangle of colors.
Roke didn’t know what the hell was going on.
One minute he’d been bracing himself to fight his own clan and the next he was being jerked through space and slammed into an invisible barrier that nearly knocked him out.
Sprawled on the grass, he struggled to get his bearings.
“Dammit.” He turned his head enough to see a lump of gray stone lying next to him. Levet. Perfect. “Did you do this, gargoyle?” he growled.
The lump slowly sat up, exposing the fairy wings that sparkled in the moonlight.
“I cannot create a portal.”
Roke pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling like he’d cracked open his skull.
“You’ve been popping in and out for days.”
“It was Siljar who was responsible for my . . . unorthodox travels,” he said.
Roke struggled to think. “Then she brought us here?”
“Non.”
“How can you be certain?”
Levet gave a click of his tongue. “Because I recognize a portal when I have been thrust through one.”
“Christ.” With an effort he forced himself to a seated position, his gaze searching the ground beside him. “Sally?” He cursed, jumping to his feet. There was no tiny, autumn-haired witch in sight. “Where is she?” he snapped as Levet waddled toward him.
The gargoyle frowned, his expression concerned. “Do I look like I know?”
Roke muttered a curse, allowing his senses to flow outward. It took less than a second to realize they were at the edge of Styx’s property in Chicago. There was no mistaking the sprawling, manicured lawn and the honking-huge house, not to mention the energy pulse from a dozen powerful vampires.
And then there was the barrier against magic that explained why the portal had come to such an abrupt end and why his skull had nearly been split in two.
So where the hell was Sally?
Leashing his rising panic, Roke closed his eyes and concentrated on the bond that connected him to his mate. A surge of relief rushed through him as he felt the steady pulse of her heart. She was alive. But the sense of her was . . . muffled. As if something or someone was trying to disguise her presence.
“She must not have come through the portal,” he snarled, pulling out his phone and punching in numbers.
Zoe answered on the first ring.
“Do you have my mate?” he demanded, his anger snapping a nearby oak tree in half. “Don’t screw with me on this,” he warned as Zoe denied any knowledge of Sally. “Goddammit.”
Levet’s tail quivered as he impatiently waited for Roke to shove the phone back into his pocket.
“Sally?”
“Zoe claims that she disappeared at the same time we did,” he said, pressing a hand to the empty ache in the center of his heart. “She assumed Sally cast some sort of translocation spell.”
Levet snorted at the vampire’s persistent assumption that a witch could actually transport people from one place to another.
“You trust her?”
Roke grimaced. He didn’t want to. He wanted to believe that Zoe was holding Sally captive and that he had only to return to Nevada to free her.
As much as he hated the thought of his mate alone and terrified in a cell, it was preferable to the fear that she’d been taken by an enemy who intended . . .
Christ, he couldn’t even go there.
“If she had Sally, then Zoe would have used her presence to force my return,” he grimly admitted.
Levet’s wings drooped. “Whoever created the portal must have taken her.”
“The fey,” Roke said. “It has to be.”
The gargoyle nodded. “So how do we retrieve her?”
There was a blast of icy power as a large Aztec warrior stepped through the invisible barrier.
“Roke. Thank the gods,” Styx said, his massive body covered by leather pants and a black tee. His hair was braided and his massive sword was strapped to his back. “I’ve been trying to contact you.”
Roke brushed aside his king’s concern. Nothing mattered but finding Sally.
Nothing in the entire world.
“I need your help,” he rasped.
Instantly realizing something was desperately wrong, Styx was on full alert.
“What happened?”
“We were in Nevada—”
“Being chased by his clansmen,” Levet interjected, his tiny arms folded over his chest.
Roke ignored the ridiculous pest. “When we were sucked into a portal and brought here.”
Styx arched an ebony brow. “You were being chased by your clansmen?”
“Oui,” Levet agreed with a sniff.
“That doesn’t matter,” Roke growled. What kind of fate would steal his beautiful mate and leave him with the stupid gargoyle? “Sally was with us, but she never arrived. We have to find her.”
“Easy, amigo,” Styx soothed as the eight-foot brick fence surrounding his back garden exploded in a shower of rubble. “We’ll find her.”
“We need a fey,” Roke said between gritted fangs.
Levet abruptly snapped his fingers. “Troy.”
Styx scowled. “The imp?”
“He has royal blood,” Levet pointed out. “No one has greater power to trace a portal.”
Roke shoved his hands in his front pockets, struggling to control his power. He could level a city block if he wasn’t careful.
“Can this Troy be trusted?”
“He’s fey, but yes, I think he can be trusted,” Styx said, his too-perceptive gaze studying Roke’s worried expression. “Why?”
“The fey have been chasing Sally since the gargoyle removed the illusions wrapped around her music box.”
Levet lifted his hand
s. “Hey, do not blame me.”
“Odd,” Styx murmured.
Roke shook his head. “No more odd than the Miera demon who attacked us.”
Styx’s eyes narrowed. “Did you say Miera?”
“Yes. He attacked us twice. The second time he nearly killed me,” Roke admitted in bleak tones. It was his inability to destroy the bastard that had allowed Sally to be put in danger. “Do you know who he is?”
Styx grimaced. “There’s a missing Oracle who has been killing the fey.”
Oracle?
Well, shit. That would explain the creature’s strength if not his weird-ass powers.
“Brandel?” Levet abruptly asked.
Styx nodded. “Yes.”
“Bah.” The gargoyle wrinkled his snout. “I knew he had been to Canada.”
Roke made a sound of impatience. “What does this Brandel have to do with Sally?”
“Actually, we were hoping you could tell us,” Styx said.
“He wanted the box. Or at least that’s what he claimed.” Roke hissed in frustration. “I no longer know if it’s Sally or the box that everyone is trying to get their hands on.”
“It all has to be connected,” Styx said, his brows furrowed.
“I don’t care,” Roke snapped. “I just want Sally.”
Styx nodded in ready agreement. “Levet, get the imp.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sally stood in the middle of the sun-drenched field, completely disoriented.
Okay. Just a second ago she’d been in a dark desert surrounded by angry vampires. Then she’d released her spell and there had been a swirl of dizzying colors. And then . . .
Then she was standing in this meadow that was filled with buttercups and daisies and tiger lilies along with lilac bushes to add to the dazzling display. Overhead the sky was a clear, impossible blue with an occasional bird casting a shadow over the endless fields.
Where was she?
And more importantly, where was Roke?
“Hello?” she called, taking a hesitant step forward. The movement abruptly drew her attention to the fact that the itchy blanket had been replaced by a flowing satin gown in a pale ivory.
The spaghetti straps allowed the warm sun to stroke over the skin of her shoulders while the lace around the hem tickled the tops of her bare feet. She might have appreciated the beautiful garment if she hadn’t been worried how she’d acquired it between one heartbeat and the next, and who had placed it on her naked body.
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