“Ah, I believe that is my cue,” Levet abruptly announced, stepping forward to lift his hands in a dramatic motion. “Allow me—”
“No,” Magnus snapped, glaring until the demented creature lowered his hands and gave a flap of his wings.
Beside him, Tonya gave a sudden shiver, her brow furrowed as she glanced around in confusion.
“What is that?”
Magnus didn’t have to ask what she meant. He could feel the strange vibration beneath his feet. As if the ground was preparing to collapse.
The humans surged to their feet, the leader sending Magnus a glance of pure terror.
“Anthony has released the spell.”
“Surely that’s a good thing?” Tonya demanded. “We should soon be free.”
Magnus shook his head, grimacing as the air became heavy, pressing against him with a growingly painful force.
“The spell isn’t designed to dissipate.”
Her beautiful eyes widened as she watched his expression tighten with a grim fear.
“Then what?”
It was the gargoyle who answered. “It’s shrinking.”
“Shrinking?” she whispered.
“He’s right,” Magnus muttered, damning Anthony Benson to the fiery pits of the underworld. Most spells were cast to dissolve once the magic-user released their hold on them. But on rare occasions they could manipulate the weave so that instead of melting to nothing, it would collapse like a black hole, destroying everything in its path. “The spell is pulling in on itself. If we don’t stop it we’ll all be crushed.”
“Mon Dieu.” The gargoyle glanced toward the distant edges of the illusion that were already turning a sickly gray. “Do something.”
Magnus muttered a curse as every eye turned in his direction. What the hell did they expect him to do? It wasn’t as if he’d been trained to get out of collapsing spells.
Then his gaze landed on Tonya’s pale face and his gut twisted with a fear so deep it nearly sent him to his knees.
For the first time in his life his primary thought wasn’t centered on himself. Or what was best for him.
Even the thought of imminent death didn’t faze him.
In this moment nothing mattered but this beautiful imp and making sure she survived.
He would sacrifice anything to make that happen.
Still gripping the emerald in his hand, he glanced toward the ashen-faced druid.
“Can you create a barrier?”
The old man gave a slow nod. “Yes, but it will only hold for a few minutes.”
“That should be enough time,” he muttered, waiting for the three men to grab hands and form a circle.
There was the sound of low chanting, then a thin, nearly transparent shield began to spread from the men, flowing toward the edges of the illusion.
Only when the barrier was in place did he close his eyes as he allowed his innate powers to flow through him.
Instantly a warm glow filled his body. The heat was intoxicating, bubbling through his blood and spreading outward until he felt as if he’d captured the sun and held it deep within.
“Magnus.” Tonya grabbed his arm, giving him a small shake. “What are you going to do?”
“Perform a miracle, I hope,” he said, abruptly releasing his power with a massive burst.
Heat sizzled in the air, scorching a path of glittering gold toward the nearby breech.
The ground shook as his magic smashed into the wall of the illusion, nearly sending them all tumbling to the ground.
Magnus cursed, realizing that it wasn’t going to be enough. His power hissed and crackled, battling against the druid’s spell, but unable to penetrate the thick illusion. He clenched his teeth, refusing to give up.
Gathering his strength, he halted the steady onslaught, instead sending out pulses like a battering ram.
Once. Twice. The third time there was a loud pop followed by a series of fine cracks that spread across the backdrop of the sunny meadow.
The fourth at last shattered a large hole, revealing a dark cavern with a circle of tall, standing stones.
“Go,” he said between gritted teeth. “Hurry.”
The druids didn’t hesitate, bolting toward the opening with a speed that was surprising for such elderly men. On their heels was the gargoyle. And then, at last, Tonya was darting forward.
A soul-deep relief surged through him, even as the druids’ barrier began to disintegrate beneath the pressure.
Damn.
He instantly turned, using his powers to hold off the collapsing spell long enough for the others to escape.
Close to complete exhaustion, Magnus didn’t have time to consider the irony of his exquisite life of utter selfishness coming to an end while he was playing the role of hero.
His only thought was that Tonya had escaped.
And that was enough.
Falling to his knees, he bowed his head in pain, knowing the spell would soon reach a critical mass and explode him into oblivion.
At least it would be quick.
Resigned to his fate, he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.
It wasn’t until slender fingers wrapped around his forearm that he realized he wasn’t alone.
“Magnus.”
Glancing around in horrified shock, he met Tonya’s determined gaze.
“What the hell are you doing?” he snarled. “I told you to go.”
She jerked him upright with surprising strength, dragging him toward the opening.
“Not without you.”
He struggled to break free of her grasp, knowing she’d never make it if she had to drag him along. Damn, the stubborn female. She was supposed to be safe. Now she threatened to ruin his one act of noble bravery.
“No . . . Tonya . . . leave me.”
Refusing to release him, Tonya wrapped an arm around his waist, half carrying, half dragging him as his knees gave out.
“We’re in this together, prince,” she managed to rasp, hauling him ever closer to the opening.
They were less than a few feet away when the pain became unbearable, and Magnus knew the end was near.
Lifting his weary head, he locked his gaze on Tonya’s delicately carved profile.
If he was going to die, he wanted this to be his last sight.
Still struggling forward, Tonya gave a soft cry as the spell around them shuddered. She tightened her grip on his waist, moaning at the crushing pain.
Then, as they stood just inches from the opening, there was an ear-splitting screech and the spell exploded into a thousand pieces.
Tonya had endured her fair share of hangovers. Hell, she ran a demon club. There were bound to be a few nights that she overindulged.
Like the night she hosted a mating dance for two woodland fairies who’d brought an entire wagonload of fermented ambrosia to the club. Or the unforgettable party that Viper had thrown when Styx had taken over as Anasso. The drinks had been on the house and there hadn’t been a sober demon in a hundred-mile radius. Including her.
But no matter how hard she’d partied, she’d never felt as if a railroad spike was being drilled into the back of her head and her skin scraped down to the nerve endings.
Careful not to move her throbbing head, Tonya forced her eyes open, baffled by the sight of her barren surroundings.
Where was her pretty canopied bed and walls painted to look like a sunny meadow?
Confusion raced through her as she realized she was in a dark cavern, lying on a smooth slab of rock.
What the hell? That really must have been some bender.
She glanced down, relieved to discover she was wearing clothes. That was something. Or it was until her gaze focused enough for her to see that her dress had several small holes and had been singed at the hem.
It looked as if she’d been in a fire.
No, wait.
An explosion.
Yes. She pressed a hand to her temple. Her memory started to come back.
&nbs
p; The labyrinth had been collapsing and Magnus had remained behind, supporting the barriers so they could escape. She’d been furious when she discovered he wasn’t with them.
Dammit. He was supposed to be a selfish, arrogant prince. Not a martyr.
The stubborn ass.
So, of course, she’d gone back to rescue him.
And they’d very nearly made it. They’d been only steps away from the opening when everything had gone . . . kablooey.
With a groan, she pressed herself to a seated position on the hard slab, warily glancing toward the towering stone circle.
“Where am I?” she muttered, nearly jumping out of her skin when a male voice spoke directly behind her.
“Beneath the lair of the druid.”
“Oh.”
She turned her head, warily watching as Magnus strolled to stand directly in front of her.
Like her, his clothing had been scorched and he had a few healing wounds on his impossibly beautiful face, but the explosion clearly hadn’t dented his enormous arrogance as he peered down his long nose at her.
“Why did you do that?”
She winched. “Yow, prince, tone it down,” she muttered, pressing a finger between her eyes. “My head hurts.”
“Of course it hurts.” His hands clenched and unclenched, as if he were under a great stress. “You were caught in the backlash of a very powerful spell. I told you to run.”
She scowled at his sharp words. She hadn’t expected him to fall on his knees in gratitude for her saving his life. But . . . Christ.
He could at least throw out a “thank you” before snapping at her.
She narrowed her gaze. “Since when do I take orders from you?”
He folded his arms over his chest, his gaze oddly piercing as he studied her upturned face.
“Why?”
“Why don’t I take orders?”
His lips flattened. “Why did you come back for me?”
She shrugged. That was a question she didn’t want to consider too deeply.
“Because I’m mental,” she muttered.
He leaned forward, surrounding her in the scent of aged whiskey.
“Answer the question.”
She made a sound of impatience. Dammit. Why couldn’t he just let it go?
“Obviously because I was afraid you weren’t going to make it out.”
The cognac eyes held her gaze with mesmerizing ease.
“Would it bother you if I didn’t?”
She bit her lip, a shudder shaking her body. She would never forget the moment she’d glanced back to discover this man wasn’t following them out of the collapsing spell.
It’d felt as if someone had reached into her chest and ripped out her heart.
Something she very much hoped never to feel again.
“Of course it would,” she muttered.
“Why?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, stop saying ‘Why?’,” she snapped, forcing herself to scoot off the slab and stand on her shaky legs.
Where the hell were Levet and the druids?
Magnus stepped nearer, his fingers closing around her upper arms.
“You think I’m arrogant,” he said.
“Because you are.”
He frowned, staring at her as if she were a ginormous puzzle.
“You believe I was cruel to Fallon.”
She hunched a shoulder. If she had to hear that woman’s name on his lips one more time . . .
“You were,” she said in clipped tones.
“You don’t like me.”
His touch was like a brand against her raw skin. So acutely pleasurable it was almost painful.
“You can be an ass,” she said, her voice husky.
His fingers skimmed up her arms, the heat of him wrapping around her with an intimate promise.
“So why do you care if I survive?”
Her lips parted to give a flippant response, then snapped shut as her breath tangled in her throat. Just for the briefest second she’d caught sight of something in those amazing cognac eyes.
Something that looked remarkably like vulnerability.
“Oh hell,” she muttered, heaving a deep sigh. “You’ve grown on me.”
His brows drew together. “Grown?”
“I . . .” She licked her dry lips. “I would miss you if you weren’t around.”
The world halted, the air heavy with a sense of anticipation as Magnus slowly lowered his head.
“You’ve grown on me as well,” he confessed, brushing her lips with a soft, reverent kiss. Her toes curled, something deep inside her melting. God Almighty, she was in trouble. He pressed another kiss to her lips, this one staking his claim before he lifted his head to regard her with a brooding gaze. “But if you ever do anything so foolish again I will have you chained to the wall.”
Ignoring the pleasure that continued to shiver through her, Tonya went onto her tiptoes so they were nose to nose.
“I’d like to see you try.”
He gave a low growl, reclaiming her lips in a kiss that made her forget her aching head, their damp surroundings, and the fact they’d nearly been exploded into a thousand tiny pieces.
There was no telling how long they would have remained lost in one another if someone hadn’t loudly cleared their throat, making Tonya abruptly pull away.
Glancing over Magnus’s shoulder, she discovered Levet standing near the circle of stones.
“You can kissy-face later,” the gargoyle chided. “The druids need you.”
Magnus muttered a low curse before he grudgingly released his hold on Tonya.
“Someday I’m going to kill that gargoyle.”
Levet gave a flick of his wings. “If only I had a euro for every time I have heard that.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Cyn wasn’t happy as he watched as Styx and Viper silently faded into the early-evening darkness before he turned and headed toward the bluff overlooking the Mississippi River.
It had been less than an hour since Fallon had created a portal so they could travel to Chicago.
No surprise that Styx had been waiting for their arrival along with Viper and Dante. But when Cyn had been prepared to insist that Fallon remain in the safety of the Anasso’s lair while they travel to the caverns where the Oracles were gathered, the aggravating princess had neatly outwitted him by insisting her brief meeting with Siljar meant that she could use her as an anchor to open a portal.
He’d forbidden her to come, of course.
A total waste of time.
Not only had Fallon ignored him, but Styx had refused to listen to reason. Instead he’d agreed with Fallon, firmly overriding Cyn’s protest.
At least the aggravating bastard had drawn the line at letting Fallon go charging into the caves in search of the magic-user, he wryly acknowledged. That was something.
Stepping through the tight cluster of trees, he found Fallon waiting for him exactly where he’d left her. A wry smile touched his lips. It would be nice to think she’d stayed there because he’d asked her to, but the truth was that she was standing at the edge of her portal to keep it open.
There was a very real possibility they would need a quick getaway and she was there to provide it.
He halted at her side, pulling free the large sword he’d strapped to his back before leaving his lair.
“What’s happening?” Fallon demanded, her beautiful face pale but set in lines of grim determination.
His heart twisted. The prehistoric male inside him wanted to treat Fallon as a pampered Chatri princess that needed to be protected against the world. But he wasn’t entirely stupid. This female had been denied the right to discover exactly who she was and what she was capable of accomplishing for far too long.
He couldn’t deny her the right to prove her worth.
Within reason.
He turned so he could keep his gaze locked on the small farmhouse that appeared harmless enough. No one passing by would realize that beneath it
was a complex layer of caves that were currently home to the most powerful demons in the world.
“Styx and Viper are more familiar with the caves,” he said. “They’re going to track down the druid. Once they’ve found him they’ll contact me.”
“And Dante?”
He nodded toward the pathway that ran parallel to the river.
“He’s going to scout for any unseen enemies.”
“And you?” she pressed.
He shrugged. “I’m going to protect our fastest means of escape if things go to hell.”
He barely heard her soft sigh. “You mean you’ve been put on babysitting duty.”
“No.” He shook his head, his senses on full alert. Everything was eerily still. Understandable, of course. Humans and wildlife might not be aware of the pulses of power that throbbed in the air, but their sixth sense would urge them to leave the area. And no demon was foolish enough to willingly linger so near the Commission. Just because they happened to be the leaders of the demon world didn’t make them nice guys. Hell, just the opposite. Which made it easy to keep watch. If anything moved, he intended to kill it. “If Styx believed my place was in the caves, that’s where I would be,” he assured her. “They hope to locate the druid without alerting him to their presence, so the fewer people with them the better.”
“Hmm.”
Sensing her continued tension, he turned to study her strained features.
“This is where I belong.” His brows snapped together as she gave a violent shiver. “You’re cold.”
“No.” Her hands ran up and down her arms in a convulsive motion. “It’s—”
He knew immediately what was wrong.
“You sense something?”
“Magic,” she whispered.
He grimaced. Of course it had to be magic. It couldn’t be a hellhound. Or even a troll. Anything he could use his big sword to kill.
“The druid?”
She licked her lips. “No. This is demon magic.”
The faint sound of a twig snapping had him turning toward the trees to their left.
“Something’s coming,” he growled, catching the faint scent of lava. A Manasa . . . fire demon. “Fallon, return to Styx’s lair,” he snapped.
She turned, as if preparing to retreat, but before she could disappear into the portal she gave a pained cry and collapsed to the ground.