Darkwolf and Elizabeth arrived in the room where they’d held Silver captive.
Elizabeth dropped to her knees, her hand holding her face where it had been sliced open by Copper’s spellfire.
His nose bled all over his shirt and his hands. He spelled himself clean before doing the same for Elizabeth. His nose stopped bleeding and he felt the healing begin, from the power of Balor’s eye. He wasn’t confident that his nose would be straight again.
“I must shift in order to heal,” Elizabeth said in a voice filled with pain.
Darkwolf turned, left the room, and strode into the home’s great room.
And came to a dead stop.
His gut clenched and blood pounded in his ears.
Ceithlenn-Sara stood in the room. She retracted her wings and they vanished. The flames crowning her head transformed to red hair. It was punk-red though, not natural.
Her eyes no longer glowed crimson. Instead they were ever-changing. Blues, grays, greens, and browns shifted like wind ruffling the swells of the sea.
A black skin-tight leather catsuit encased her body as if sprayed on. Her expression was a mixture of Sara and some other being. Her features had sharpened, yet she was beyond beautiful.
It was Ceithlenn—possessed by some kind of great evil that had been buried deep in Underworld.
With her hands on her hips and a cold, cold look in her eyes, Ceithlenn stared at Darkwolf.
For the first time since he had become a warlock high priest, he felt the urge to kneel before someone else, as if being forced to.
A great pressure weighted his back and his legs trembled. He struggled. Fought against the force. Balor’s essence ordered him to bow, and pain arrowed through his head.
Ceithlenn narrowed her gaze and powerful magic slammed into him.
He dropped to his knees.
Junga, in her demon form, loped into the room. She hesitated, appearing shocked when she saw Darkwolf on the floor.
The blue demon Queen of the Fomorii moved to Darkwolf’s side and knelt. She stretched her long arms out in front of her as if she worshipped this goddess-being.
Ceithlenn smiled, her expression as cold as the look in her eyes. “You serve me now.” Her voice was Sara’s, yet not. It was confident, powerful, and beyond arrogant. “Until my husband, Balor, is released, I will reign in his stead. Is that understood?”
Darkwolf didn’t want to, but the magical power forced his head down so that he could no longer meet Ceithlenn’s gaze.
“Warlock.” The moment she spoke to him, Darkwolf’s head snapped up to look at her once again. “Bring me the eye.”
A wave of ice-cold panic washed over Darkwolf and his skin prickled. Again, magical power forced him to move.
He rose, and with leaden steps he approached Ceithlenn. When he reached her, his eyes locked on hers, and he smelled the overpowering odor of burnt sugar along with a hint of Sara’s jasmine scent.
Ceithlenn reached up and slipped her fingers into his hair before drawing him into a tight, painful kiss. She bit his lower lip so hard he tasted his own blood along with her taste—which was strange. Off. Like her burnt-sugar smell.
When she drew away, she smiled, and he saw that her canines had lengthened and she looked like a vampire—a very dangerous vampire.
“You will do.” She slipped her palm down his throat to the stone eye hanging from the thick chain. Gently she caressed the eye and spoke to it before lifting the stone and pressing her lips to it. “Soon, my love, soon.”
Ceithlenn raised her head and she pushed Darkwolf out of her way. No words came to him.
Fury boiled inside him, that this being, that any being, should attempt to rule him. Yet there was no doubt she was far more powerful than he.
Darkwolf ground his teeth.
Ceithlenn moved closer to Junga and raked her gaze over the prostrate demon. “Rise.”
Junga pushed herself to a standing position, the demon’s great ape-like arms hanging at her sides, her lips closed over her needlelike teeth. Ceithlenn slowly walked around the Fomorii queen.
Ceithlenn returned to face the demon. “I shall need you to command the Fomorii and other beings. You will answer to me.”
A growl rose up in Junga’s throat and the look on Ceithlenn’s face turned murderous. “You will obey me, or you die.”
Junga bowed. Whether by force or of her own choice, Darkwolf didn’t know.
Ceithlenn smiled coldly as she looked from Darkwolf back to Junga. “For now the Fomorii and our other friends will reside in the sewers.” She glared at Junga. “Where they belong.”
She placed her hand on her hips and turned to Darkwolf. “You will again seek out the strongest of witches to serve both me and Balor.”
With a faraway look in her ever-changing eyes, she added, “The time will come, and it will be soon.”