Pinpoint accuracy was the number one rule in teleportation success. If one’s coordinates or physical address were off even by a number, one could end up in a different country. For someone who teleported as frequently as Kailen did, verifying directions should be second nature. But hell no, he hadn’t double-checked Soren’s text. So he got what he deserved. The portal dropped him off on the corner of Corbin and McAdams, two minor streets a block west from Churton, the main artery feeding Hillsborough. And, going by his sense of direction and his phone’s GPS, he was about a mile away from his intended destination, the town’s history museum and the home of Gustaf’s shifter friend. A supernatural creature who, sight unseen, had kindly opened his home while he finished his business in town. The hospitality of supernaturals knew no bounds.
He was grateful for the early morning darkness. A strange pedestrian with silver-and-aqua hair and slightly pointy ears, ambling all by himself in the middle of the day, could raise a few curious eyebrows. On the other hand, the police presented the same problem in reverse. A lone stranger at night would definitely get their attention.
Using glamour became the internal debate. It was a tricky device and, for him, a tool of last resort. Deploying the spell hid you from humans, but to every supernatural around, the glimmering camouflage was like a neon arrow pointing at your head. He might as well carry a sign that read: I’m here, daemons. Attack now.
Kailen walked to Churton and scanned the length of the solitary, hilly road ahead. After a satisfactory second inspection, which revealed no enemies in the vicinity, he draped the spell around himself and walked on.
Twenty minutes later, he passed the Orange County Historical Museum, a gracious arts-and-crafts-styled structure, with a curious Greco-Roman columned portico, dormers, and an attractive stone facade. Tucked off to one side, an ancient burial site showed scattered marble headstones, relics of a bygone era, their faded engravings impossible to read. From his vantage point, the grounds appeared unmolested and peaceful. Considering he’d come because of suspected daemon and Dubtach activity, Kailen planned to investigate right away.
As he continued walking, a sign set into the surrounding stone fence dated Old Town Cemetery’s origins to 1757. Perhaps Hillsborough was small in acreage, but its history was huge. Kailen’s knowledge of American history was as cursory as most supernaturals’. Still, the atmospheric setting elicited visions of Regulators demanding fair taxation, and later, the colonist militia fighting for independence against a tyrant king. If only he had time to explore the museum at length.
By the time he turned right on West Tryon Street, a faint light rose from the east and two cars flew past him. People were hustling toward work. A man and his Labrador crossed the corner to his left, while a lady and her cute dachshund took the opposite path. They nodded and smiled at each other in a familiarity that came out of routine. Humans were engaged in the dealings of a new day.
When he reached the middle of the block, he pulled out a skull cap from his side pocket, covered his hair and the tips of his supernatural ears and shed the glamour. His destination was within sight, and even if a human questioned his presence, he’d be forgotten when his host received him. As he prepared to cross the street, Kailen checked the address and tapped a direct text to Talaith. Why give Soren a chance to mess up again? The Titanian was handling several issues at once.
A series of flowering trees hid the cottage’s front porch. Some varieties he recognized from Soren’s garden, others he’d never seen before. He made it past outstretched branches and knocked on the door.
Through the years, he’d come across hundreds of shifters. Their lifetimes, when compared to other supernaturals’, were shorter—around three hundred years for smaller species, while bears, wolves, and larger groups lived anywhere from six hundred to a thousand years tops. Wolf scientists blamed the hardship and stress the phasing process inflicted on a shifter’s body for said life span.
The smiling male who opened the door mystified Kailen in every way. Lanky and around six feet tall, his angular features were…unfamiliar as he couldn’t place the shifter’s origins, attractive, and ageless. The only sign indicating a possible long life was a single silver streak running down his sandy brown hair.
“Hello. Come in. Kailen, is it? I’ve been expecting you.” He moved aside, and a short foyer opened before Kailen. “Welcome to my home. I’m Vallen. I’ve heard a lot about you from Gustaf. We’ve known each other for many years.”
Kailen detected a faint accent. If his listening skills were still as perceptive as he hoped, the male was born in the Sarajevo valley or close by.
“I’m grateful for the hospitality, Vallen. Especially, since you don’t know me. These days, we can’t be too careful. I hope to return the favor one day.”
“Nonsense. A friend of Gustaf’s is a friend of mine. Although we haven’t seen each other since I moved to America, he’s kept me apprised of the situation. I can’t believe daemons and elves have joined forces against the alliance and the council. Terrible situation. Just terrible. Wait, where are your things?” Vallen glanced around Kailen’s legs, evidently looking for a bag or suitcase.
“Actually, this is all I have.” He laughed, pointing at his wrinkled clothes. “I’ll have to hit the stores later. I was in Scotland handling some issues when the order to transport here came. Because of the urgency, I didn’t stop by my place.”
“That explains it.” Vallen studied him. “Looks like we’re close in height and weight. I may have a few things you could use. That is, if you don’t mind borrowing a stranger’s clothing.”
“Not at all. Thank you.”
Kailen followed the male, who turned right into a cozy living area. Two well-used navy-blue sofas faced each other on opposite sides of a plain coffee table. The waning flames in the fireplace struggled to keep the room warm. Sheer white curtains dimmed the rising morning light. Despite the absence of wall adornments and personal items, a sense of peace and comfort floated in the room, and he felt at ease. Nevertheless, his attention remained fixed on the shifter. Something about the male fascinated him, and as much as he mulled it over, he couldn’t figure out why. He wanted to ask, but remained silent as he feared insulting his host with his curiosity.
Vallen moved to the fireplace, added a log, and stoked it in with the rest. Satisfied with the results, he sat on a sofa as he motioned for Kailen to do the same. “You must be tired. Your room is ready. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I would like to get some rest. I need a moment to wind down first. The portal always leaves me tense.”
“Goodness, yes.” Vallen’s upturned eyes crinkled at the corners with humor. “I experience that myself. I’m also sure you have questions… About me.”
Busted. Kailen actually blushed. “Well…ah, I am a bit curious. I’ve been in the service of Gustaf and Fritiof for many years, and somehow, you and I never crossed paths.”
“That’s because I’m a Dinaric lynx, extremely shy and skittish by nature. Although, you wouldn’t believe it now, right? Not the way I’m talking and carrying on.” He laughed. “Living in the New World changes a male’s perspective.”
New World? Interesting choice of words.
“I beg your pardon, Dinaric lynx?”
“Yes. My particular lineage started in the Dinaric Alps. Think of Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, Montenegro. Lynx shifters or werelynx sprang to life when Hades lost control of his magic, about the same time when other earthly species developed supernatural conditions. The fate of the Dinaric werelynx appears to be tied to our nonshifter brethren. As the nonshifter population diminished in the Alps, so did we. In fact, my species came close to extinction. Our mates had difficulty procreating, we lost our territory, our crops…”
“I didn’t know.”
Vallen smiled. “Not all is lost. In recent years, humans, the main reason for our decline, have taken an interest in the species. They’ve started reintroducing lynx into poorly populated areas in hopes of increasing the numbers. The experiment must be working, because just like that”—he snapped his fingers—“my kind is flourishing again. The issue of species in decline is a sensitive topic for someone like myself. When I learned about the deadly experiments perpetrated against our kind, I was furious. I offered Gustaf my services to help in any way I could.” As Vallen spoke, his inner race slowly surfaced. In a spellbinding effect, the stunning features of a lynx, eyes, nose, facial lines, and even the amazing dappled coat floated just underneath the human facade.
“Forgive me.” Kailen held up a hand. “I’ve lived long years in this dimension, and I’m forever learning something new. Magic and supernaturals never cease to amaze me.”
“I gather you haven’t seen many lynxes.”
“You’re the first.” The need to yawn surged unbidden, and he covered his mouth. “Goodness, I apologize.”
“You can’t hide it anymore. You’re exhausted. Let me show you to your room.”
Kailen followed Vallen to a connecting passageway. The werelynx opened a door and smiled.
“Make yourself at home. The bathroom is directly across. Towels are clean, and so are the sheets on the bed. I have T-shirts, sweats, and field pants in the closet. Use anything that fits. Get some rest. It’s still early. I’ll wake you around noon. When you’re more alert, we can talk about the visitors and strange events I’ve observed in town.”
Talaith had wasted enough time listening to a never-ending question-and-answer session between Soren, Maya, and Brysys.
“You say Dubtach released you sometime in late April, after our mission to the lab in Alaska, right?” Soren, comfortably seated on a club chair, one leg crossed over the other and sipping on an iced tea, asked for the umpteenth time.
Why does he keep asking? Her story hasn’t changed one bit.
“She did,” Talaith blurted before Brysys answered. The sorceress, with a pretended naïveté Talaith couldn’t stomach, delayed her answers to the point of exasperation.
Arching an eyebrow, Maya sent her a warning glance. Ignoring the message, Talaith lifted her chin in silent defiance.
What is wrong with you? Don’t you care about Kailen? She wanted to argue, to remind them of his situation.
His text had arrived hours ago. He was alone in Hillsborough, dealing with who knew what. And when she announced she was teleporting, Soren ordered her to stay put until further notice. She should’ve left. Now she was sitting in New York twiddling her thumbs and close to losing her temper. With a loud huff, she stood and began pacing.
Maya turned toward Brysys and asked, “But isn’t it true that Tenebrarium is locked tight? No one gets in or out without Astarot’s consent.”
“Um… Yes…that, that is correct,” Brysys stammered.
What’s this? Peering at the druid, Talaith stopped pacing.
A strong push in her consciousness startled her.
“You caught the hesitation, didn’t you?”
Maya’s voice came loud and clear in her mind. Talaith, bewildered by the strength of the phoenix’s power, glanced at Soren’s mate. She nodded, then continued the mental communication. “Be patient, please. Give us a few more minutes, and you’ll understand.”
Irritation faded under renewed interest. Studying the druid’s body language, Talaith returned to her chair. Brysys had pretended nerves and fatigue affected her, but in reality she was evading. Why?
“Tell us.” Talaith used her sweet, childlike tone. “How did Dubtach bypass the mighty Astarot’s wards?”
Wide-eyed, Brysys turned to her. Her mouth slackened. “I…”
“Weren’t you present when he conjured the breakaway charm?” Smiling, Talaith continued the pressure. “Didn’t you and Dubtach appear together on earth? You’re a powerful sorceress. Enchantments and spells are your domain. What did he do? Any information you give us, no matter how small, helps the cause. Think, Brysys, please.”
The trapped-animal expression signaled her defeat. Brysys’s blue eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “You don’t… You don’t understand.” Her face turned white.
Soren watched and listened in silence. He’d deferred the questioning to his female allies.
“Then help us see. Show us,” Maya pressed a little more.
“Brysys, you’re safe here. We want to help you. I can assure you, he won’t get past Soren’s security rings,” Talaith said.
“Security rings… Fools, you’re such fools.” She buried her face in her palms. “Please, gods of the universe, help me.”
Talaith crossed her gaze with Maya’s. Soren, sipping the last of his tea, remained impassive. As if by mental accord, they waited for Brysys to spend her anguished tears. When her sobs subsided, Maya grasped Brysys’s wrist in a sign of solidarity. Talaith couldn’t jump in, even with her full support. Further statements, in lieu of hard evidence, were required before she could trust that much. Life had taught her caution. What the hell do I know about Brysys, really?
“You called us fools,” Maya said.
Brysys lifted her face. “I did.”
“That tells me nothing.” Maya’s tone was terse, colder. “Explain.”
Exhaling a deep breath, Brysys settled against her club chair. The sorceress wiped her face and neck with her palm, then checked whatever hair had fallen forward. She’d been using this delay tactic since the questions began.
“Dubtach is an entity of death magic.” Brysys spoke at last. “Your assumptions were correct, I helped him escape.”
Maya angled her head. “No one here suggested you had.”
“Please. Just because you’re all fools, don’t treat me like one. I’ve survived Tenebrarium for hundreds of years, dodging Astarot’s deadly anger one day at a time. I’ve seen and heard things you couldn’t imagine. And yes, in order to escape, I joined my magic with Dubtach’s, trampling my beliefs and code of ethics. He needed both, bad and good, and it worked. Believe me, no matter how veiled, your sarcasm is pretty damned obvious.”
“There she is.” Maya smirked. “Say hello to the real, tough-as-nails Brysys. I was getting tired of the eggshells and sensitivity. You’ve confused our kindness for weakness. Let’s hear it, from beginning to end. Don’t think you can equivocate and give half-truths.” She pointed a finger in Talaith’s direction. “We have a damned accurate seer among us. She’ll pick your lies apart.”
Ignoring Maya’s tirade, Brysys glared at Talaith, then allowed a tiny smile to appear. Smirk? Sneer? Talaith shivered at the ice behind the druid’s expression.
Clutching the armrests of her chair, Brysys frowned at Maya. “What lies? I’ve been jailed in Astarot’s castle for countless years. That’s common knowledge.”
“Wrong,” Soren said. “You disappeared. That’s common knowledge. For centuries, mages like Khnurn believed you were dead.”
“I stand corrected.” She bowed her head. “It all began when Eachann and I agreed to meet in our favorite spot in Loch Maree. Just outside Blackstone Manor.” Brysys’s expression became wistful, lost in the clouds of time. As she continued, her voice cracked. “The place was special for us. We’d spent many happy days there.”
“Do you need a drink?” Maya asked.
“No, thank you.” Sighing, she said, “Neither one of us knew about his brother Graeme’s machinations.”
Soren straightened. “Damn. Eachann had a brother?”
“Yes. He died before you were born.”
“I didn’t know. Please continue.”
“My romance with Eachann was blissful and perfect. Not once did we suspect the envy his brother harbored or that he wanted to take everything from him. Later, I learned the full extent of his hatred.” Brysys tapped her fingers on the armrest. “I suppose Eachann told him of our meeting in passing. Why wouldn’t he? Graeme made a deal. He’d deliver Eachann to Astarot in exchange for me, then set up the ambush. But Graeme was so blinded by his jealousy that he didn’t see the truth in Astarot’s plans. The daemon lord wanted both vampires killed, and gave the orders.” She paused.
“Still, okay?” Maya asked.
She nodded. “As lieutenants of the horde descended on Eachann and me, Graeme laughed at his brother. He claimed I was his lover and the architect of the ambush. I tried to argue, but was gagged, and my hands were tied in an instant, which rendered me unable to defend us. Eachann resisted, and a fight broke out. In the melee, a lieutenant stabbed Graeme. He expired in a ball of red dust just as the infamous vampire rage took over Eachann. I saw a moment of his anger before I was pushed through the dimensional pathway. I’ve languished in Tenebrarium ever since.” She rolled her shoulders, then closed her eyes, tilting her head back.
“And you don’t know what happened after that,” Soren said.
“I got bits of information through the years. Finally put it all together. I know Eachann hates me. I heard it from his own lips.”
“That’s the past. Bring us to the present,” Maya said. “How did you escape?”
“Dubtach took me to his private chambers. Where I had… I had to willingly pay for freedom,” she groaned.
“I see,” Maya murmured. “You may have agreed, but in essence, he raped you.”
“Correct.”
“And then…”
“Hold on,” Talaith stepped in. “Take me with you.”
“With me? I don’t understand,” Brysys said.
“Let me join you in the memory. It will help, make it easier to tolerate, and I can visually capture what is difficult to express or something you might have missed.” She held out her palm.
“I put my hand on yours and you travel with me. Is that it?” Brysys’s huge questioning eyes darted from her palm to her face.
“That’s it.”
The sorceress extended her fingers, the gesture tentative and careful. She touched Talaith’s palm, then yanked her fingers back. “Gods of the universe. There’s power in you. I need to figure this out. It’s like… It’s like…” She rubbed her fingers, searching for the words.
“You’ve touched an electric socket,” Maya finished for her. “We forget you’ve lived in isolation. Eventually, you’ll catch up.”
Talaith waited, her hand still outstretched as she had expected this reaction. Brysys tried again. When the sorceress’s fingers descended on her skin, she didn’t pull back.
“There,” Talaith whispered. “Close your eyes and let go.”
She clutched Brysys’s fingers…
A wild vortex sucked them both into a stygian abyss. Wind roared in her ears, energy swells buffeted them backward and forward against invisible barriers where fangs and claws waited to tear and stab at them. Brysys screamed and called for help. And still they plummeted hand in hand in an inexorable downward direction.
Not downward. Her mind fought to reason through the dizzying speed. Down is the underworld, Hel and Hades’s domain. Brysys whimpered at her side. Talaith regained control.
Calm down. Breathe, Talaith instructed through the mental link.
She pulled the sorceress closer, centered her power, and their vertiginous fall ended inside a cavernous chamber. Hovering midair, malevolent green eyes bore into Talaith. Brysys walked toward the mysterious gaze. Talaith followed. From the depths of an endless darkness, a male with no features stepped out. The hovering eyes floated back through the ether and settled within the empty sockets. She knew Dubtach. He sneered in triumph.
Black ooze, putrid smelling and hideous, pooled on the stone floor and eddied around their feet. The frightening goo continued to rise and fill the room. Poisonous, viscous swirls growing thicker and higher engulfed her body, invaded her mouth, nose, and eyes. Her lungs choked. In a supreme effort, she shouted out her power, and the red-hot explosion ejected the evil slush and hurled Dubtach several feet back. Brysys remained in place. He held up a fist, then gestured at the druid with his free hand.
Stay away from him.
Brysys heard no one, only Dubtach’s unspoken orders. Obeying his command, she sent her magic forth, tying it to his. Good and evil forces collided. The resulting sonic boom deafened Talaith, and the walls ripped and collapsed. A jagged line cracked the ceiling in two, making one side dark as night, the other bright as day.
Earth. Reach for earth.
She dashed for Brysys. As she grabbed the sorceress’s arm, an upended vortex sucked them in reverse. Ascending faster and faster, into the light, into the sunshine, into the pure air, the dimensional pathway roared open and spit them both into space…
“Talaith!” Kailen’s beloved voice called her name as she tumbled aimlessly. A vision of beautiful snowcapped mountains flashed by…
When she opened her eyes, she was still sitting in the strategy room with Brysys’s hand in hers.
Head bent, the sorceress wept. A damp spot formed on the lap of her gown.
For Talaith’s part, it would take a few minutes before she could speak at all. She’d never been in the presence of so much evil.
Maya showed her a bottle of water. Gratefully, she downed the full contents.
Brysys spoke between hiccups. “My power did it. I’m responsible. I gave him the key to this plane.”
“Not quite,” Talaith panted, still catching her breath. “You didn’t have a choice. In your weakened, spellbound state, his death magic subsumed you. Evil took you. In the confusion, the world upended, and you couldn’t distinguish right from wrong. I saw it, felt every bit of it. The only way to escape was to punch out the pathway. We have a problem, though. Has it retracted to its original place, or is it still extended?”
Brysys sighed. “I can’t be certain.”
Talaith glanced from Soren to Maya. “The pathway is a cosmic gate, and we can’t take the chance that it’s still open. Khnurn can send it back. I don’t have that skill yet. I’ll need Brysys’s help. I have a feeling that’s how Oras came through. The longer it stays open, the more daemon mages and high creatures can escape the exile realm. We have to close it now.” She held up a palm. “Listen to me. As soon as the situation with the gateway is resolved, I’m leaving to rejoin Kailen. I won’t accept further orders. And…” She paused. “One of you should come with us. To keep Brysys company on the way back. If you get my meaning?”
Hell, she couldn’t be more obvious if she spelled out that Brysys must be watched at all times.
“Kailen, you said? The same handsome man from Scotland? Was the voice we heard his?” Brysys chimed in, her mental processes suddenly rather clear.
“Listen, sweetheart,” Soren drawled in an exaggerated southern accent. “Kailen’s heart is taken. I suggest you focus your attention on Eachann. Don’t you have some itty-bitty issues to fix with the big vampire?”
“Only if he lets me,” she retorted icily.
“Then get on it. Time’s a-wasting.” He stood. “Let’s go check that pathway, gate, or whatever. I’m going with you.”
Brysys’s directions were on target. Their group exited on a ledge at elevation 4,000 feet, which was about halfway up Monte Darwin, a major peak in Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego, the Chilean Patagonia. Gale-force winds, ice, and snow cut and tore at them from every direction. Directly above them, the monstrous mouth of the dimensional pathway had punched a hole between the exile realm and the earthly plane. Its shattered flap rim slapped and thrummed under the force of the elements.
They’d come dressed for polar conditions. At this altitude, the cold was much more intense. Talaith attempted to speak, but her frozen facial muscles refused to obey.
Soren waved at them, signaling they should huddle together. Talaith pushed a paralyzed Brysys toward the big Titanian. Steadying the sorceress on her feet, Soren dropped a glamour curtain around them. The wind and sound ceased abruptly.
“This reinforced glamour shield will give us a few minutes of warmth to gather our wits and make a plan,” Soren explained. “Talk to me, ladies. You’ve seen it. What’s your diagnosis?”
“We have to repair the loose pieces, attach them to the rim, make it smooth, fold the blades closed, and send the whole thing back,” Talaith said.
He turned to Brysys. “And you?”
“I concur.” The sorceress nodded. “I can patch the flaps if Talaith supports my effort.”
“Will that take care of it?”
“Not entirely. After we attach the flaps to the rim, we have to seal the mouth, and at that point, the passage should retract on its own.”
Soren frowned. “What if it doesn’t retract?”
“Then we’ll have to do two spells.”
“Fine. I’ll remove the glamour for phase one. Once that’s taken care of, we come back inside to recover. Okay?”
“Sounds good,” Talaith said.
He lifted his hands, and the polar hurricane returned with a vengeance. The howling wind pummeled Talaith against the mountainside. The ledge seemed narrower now. She stepped on a patch of bare ice and slipped. Brysys caught her by the wrist.
“Hey. Careful. We need you.” The sorceress amplified the volume of her voice.
Talaith gave her a thumbs-up.
Turning to face the gate, Brysys opened her arms as if she could embrace the huge opening. Standing behind her, chest to back, Talaith called the spell forth and thrust her hands forward. Energy flew out of them and entwined halfway out, combining both magical forces in a unified spell. The loose flaps returned to their original positions. With a deafening roar, the gateway’s sealing blades rotated on their hinges. In a cascading pattern, one folded upon the edge of the next, effectively sealing the gargantuan exit. The opening flattened into a smooth surface.
Talaith cursed under her breath. The passageway hadn’t budged an inch.
Soren quickly motioned for another huddle.
“Ugh,” Brysys muttered, slapping her hands together. “Damn, it’s not retracting as it should.”
“We’re going to have to work harder.” Talaith spoke to the sorceress. “I’ll push my magic, and you reinforce me. Can you manage?”
“Count on me.”
Soren grabbed Talaith’s shoulder. “When the pathway retracts, take off. Don’t wait for us. We’re going in a different direction anyway.”
“Got it,” she said.
The gale shrieked louder. Her hood fell back under the force. Ice sliced her face, and her ears threatened to shatter into tiny pieces. Pulling the hood over her head once more, she concentrated on breathing. By sheer force of will, she ordered her reluctant lungs to exhale and inhale, ignoring the sharp pain. Tensing her fingers into claws, she called upon her cells to link and deliver their power into her core. She revved up like an engine, paused at the apex of effort, then signaled to Brysys. The sorceress stood behind her, clasped Talaith’s arms, and, murmuring the ancient words, they sent their magic forth.
Nothing happened. The monstrous channel didn’t budge an inch. Redoubling her efforts, Talaith hurled out a new wave. Her internal temperature was rising. Her poison-killing furnace had come alive, and she no longer felt the wind and ice. This time, the thing trembled under the force of her heat.
“Yaaah!” Brysys exclaimed. “Do it again. Do it again! It’s going.”
Talaith closed her eyes, muttered the words with a focused intensity she’d never experienced before, and pushed, propelling the last ounce of heat. The pathway shook violently as the solid base of ice and snow crumbled. Released from its frozen trap, the huge channel slung back into the exile realm, leaving nothing but perfect blue skies.
Wasting no time to rejoice, she called the portal and jumped in. Kailen needed her.