Explore the world . . .
Fallon forced herself to snuff out the small spark of hope.
It would only lead to disappointment.
“My father will never allow me to remain,” she said, her voice carefully composed. “Besides, I’ll soon be marrying my prince.”
Levet’s fingers tightened on her arm, his expression filled with open sympathy. “I have learned that trying to live your life to please your family is a certain path to misery.”
There was something in his lightly accented voice that assured Fallon that he did understand the burden of family duty.
“Did your family want you to wed a gargoyle of their choosing?” she asked softly.
“Non. They wanted me dead.”
She sucked in a horrified breath. Good heavens. She thought her father was arrogant and overbearing.
At least he wasn’t homicidal.
“Oh.”
The gargoyle sent her a wistful smile. “If your father truly loves you, he will want you to be happy.”
She swallowed a bitter laugh. Sariel didn’t know the meaning of love. At least not the sort of love that humans lavished upon their children.
“Happiness is not valued among my people.”
“Then perhaps you should remain among those who do value it, hmm?” Levet murmured, heading toward the door. “Something to consider.”
Enough. Cyn slammed shut the thick book on fey history and rose to his feet.
He’d spent the past hours in his library, endlessly searching through books, manuscripts, and ancient scrolls in an effort to find hieroglyphs that would match the spell that Siljar had given him.
So far he’d found precisely nothing.
Oh. There were a lot of “almost” symbols, mostly fey in origin. But nothing that would allow him to decipher the spell.
Now he needed a break.
Grasping the scroll in one hand, he shoved himself to his feet and crossed the antique carpet to step through the door leading into the large study.
Then, pouring himself a large glass of the blood Lise had delivered earlier, he absently paced across the room to stare at the tapestry that his foster mother had made for him shortly after he’d finished building the castle.
It was a scene of a glistening white unicorn standing in the center of a flower-filled meadow with a pretty virgin kneeling at his side.
His foster mother, Erinna, had claimed he needed some reminder of purity to compensate for the debauchery that filled his lair.
Cyn grimaced as he realized that the female reminded him of Fallon.
The glorious golden hair. The delicate profile. The essence of innocence that shouted to his jaded soul with a siren’s call.
His jaw clenched, the growingly familiar jolt of heat blasting through his body.
The female was rapidly becoming an obsession. Something that hadn’t happened to him since . . .
Since never, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Polishing off the blood, he set aside his glass with a shake of his head.
What the hell was happening to him?
He’d known hundreds of women. Thousands. So why was this particular one driving him bat-shit crazy?
He was still debating the question when his peace was destroyed by the tiny gargoyle who waddled into the study.
Usually Cyn took pride in the satinwood furniture that he’d carved with his own hands, and the arched, stained-glass window that refracted the sunlight until it filled the room with a dazzling display of harmless colors.
Now he barely suppressed the urge to grab the creature by the tail and toss him out of the room.
“What do you want?”
The gargoyle sniffed. “I thought you would wish to know that I completed my duty.”
“You made sure the rooms are warm enough?” he demanded.
It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t shake his concern that Fallon might be uncomfortable in his lair.
“I did.” Levet moved toward him, his tail rigid with outrage. “Not that I appreciate being treated as a servant.”
Cyn arched a brow. “You don’t want Fallon to be kept warm?”
“Of course I wish the petite fille to be warm. But I am a warrior of great renown. I should be given tasks that are suitable to my considerable talents.”
“What you are is a pain in the . . .” Cyn’s muttered words were forgotten as the gargoyle reached up to snatch the scroll from his hand. “Hey.”
Levet frowned as he studied the spell. “What is this?”
Cyn narrowed his gaze as suspicion raced through him. “I thought that you said Siljar sent you.”
“She did.”
Cyn grabbed the paper back, ignoring the fact they were behaving like a couple of five-year-old humans.
“Then you should know what this is.”
Levet wrinkled his snout. “Siljar wasn’t in the mood to share why I was to come here. In fact, she was acting in a most peculiar manner.”
“Obviously she just wanted an excuse to get rid of you.”
The gargoyle stuck out his tongue. Ridiculous pest.
“I do not know why you are being so secretive.” He pointed a claw at the spell in Cyn’s hand. “It is not as if I can see what is written unless you remove the illusion.”
“Illusion?” Cyn froze, a strange chill inching down his spine as he held up the yellowed parchment. “On this?”
“Oui.”
“How do you know?”
“Illusions happen to be my specialty.” Levet preened, giving a flap of his wings. “Along with seducing beautiful women.”
Cyn dismissed the gargoyle’s bloated ego, his gaze lowering to the scroll.
“Why didn’t Siljar notice? Or even Fallon?” he demanded. “They both should have been able to sense magic.”
“It isn’t a traditional spell.”
“What do you mean?”
“The writing itself is the illusion.”
Cyn shoved the scroll toward his companion. “Get rid of it.”
“Non.” Levet shook his head. “I cannot.”
Cyn released a trickle of power, a humorless smile twisting his lips as the gargoyle shivered at the pinpricks of ice that filled the air.
“You just said that illusions are your specialty.”
Levet rubbed his arms, his heavy brow furrowed. “If I break the illusion, the writing will disappear.”
“Damn.” Cyn shook his head. Why would a stranger leave a spell with the Commission that was hidden beneath an illusion? None of this made any sense. “Then what’s the point?” he growled.
“Your eyes see this.” A claw touched the fragile paper. “But your mind sees the truth.”
Cyn scowled. “Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?”
“I am trying to explain—”
“Then say it in words I can understand,” Cyn snapped. He hated magic.
Having to deal with it made him . . . irritable.
“The spell appears to be mumbo jumbo,” Levet said, his brows abruptly lifting. “Have you truly been trying to decipher it?”
Cyn flashed his fangs. “Get on with it, gargoyle.”
“Party do-do,” the gargoyle muttered.
Do-do? It took Cyn a second to realize what the fool meant.
“Pooper, you prat.”
Levet waved aside the correction. “But beneath the magic it is like a subliminal message that becomes lodged deep in your mind.”
Reaching down, Cyn grabbed the pest by his horn, dangling him off the ground so they were eye to eye.
“Let me make this simple. I need to know what this says.” He waved the hieroglyphs in front of Levet’s snout. “How do I do that?”
Levet pouted, but clearly realizing that Cyn’s temper was reaching a critical edge, he resisted the urge to make some snarky comment.
Wise gargoyle.
“Perhaps a magical artifact would . . .” Levet gave a small squeak as Cyn dropped him without warning
and headed toward the door that connected to his library.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“Where are you going?” Levet demanded, following him like a stray puppy.
“When Siljar said there was something in my library that might help I assumed she meant a book,” Cyn muttered, too late realizing how dangerous it was to jump to conclusions. Reaching the doorway, he turned to point a warning finger at the gargoyle. “Wait here.”
“But . . .”
Cyn stepped into the library and slammed the door shut behind him. No one, absolutely no one, was allowed in his private sanctuary.
He swiftly moved across the book-lined room to the hidden panel just behind his massive desk. Laying a hand on the wood, he waited for the magic his foster parents had cast to recognize his touch. With a faint click the panel slid open to reveal the small cupboard filled with Erinna and Mika’s most prized possessions.
It’d been Cyn who’d insisted on bringing the collection of magical artifacts to his hidden safe. The rare potions, crystals, and amulets were worth enough to encourage any number of demons to try and get their greedy hands on them.
He didn’t want his family taking unnecessary risks.
It was his duty to protect them.
Which was why he was so aggravated that they’d deliberately put themselves in danger.
Tucking his concern for them to the back of his mind, he grabbed a large crystal off the top shelf and returned to the study.
He’d barely stepped through the door when Levet was hurrying toward him, the fairy wings buzzing with excitement. Unlike Cyn, the gargoyle would be capable of sensing the magic of the crystal threading its way through the air.
“What do you have?”
“Truth,” Cyn said, hoping his foster mother hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said this particular crystal could not only force humans and weaker demons to speak honestly, but that it could see through written deception.
He could only hope it would work on an illusion.
“Oui, very clever,” Levet breathed, not bothering to hide his surprise. “At least for a leech.”
“Here.” Cyn shoved the crystal and piece of parchment into his companion’s hands. He might want to strangle the tiny plague to his existence, but gargoyles were capable of manipulating many different kinds of magic. “Remove the illusion.”
Levet nodded, but he looked oddly wary as he held the crystal toward the unrolled parchment.
“Very well, but without knowing what is beneath . . .” There was the sound of a loud sizzle, then without warning a tangible cloud of evil spread through the room. Making a sound of disgust, Levet shoved the paper and crystal back into Cyn’s hands. “Mon Dieu.”
Cyn shuddered. “What the hell?”
“It’s coming from the spell,” Levet said, backing away with a grimace.
“Is it dangerous?”
“Non. At least . . .” The gargoyle gave a small shrug. “I do not think so.”
Cyn scowled. “Awesome.”
There was the faint sound of footsteps, then the door leading to the hallway was shoved open so Fallon could rush into the room.
“Are you hurt?”
Chapter Seven
Fallon hadn’t known precisely what was causing the ripples of evil to sweep through the lair, but she hadn’t hesitated to rush from her room to . . .
What?
To make sure that Cyn wasn’t in danger?
How stupid was that?
He was a vampire. Hell, he was clan chief. And a berserker.
A demon would have to be demented to try and challenge him.
Still, she couldn’t halt her agitated flight that led her to the large study.
Now she wiped her hands down the silky material of her robe, feeling like a total idiot as Cyn and Levet turned to watch her with matching expressions of surprise.
“Ah, ma belle, forgive me.” Levet was the first to recover, moving toward her to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I have managed to remove the magic that disguised the spell.”
Her embarrassment was forgotten as her attention turned to the spell that Cyn held in his hand.
“Disguised?” She shook her head in confusion. “There was an illusion?”
“Oui.”
Without even realizing she was moving, Fallon was standing next to Cyn.
“Why didn’t I sense it?”
“It was woven into the writing,” Levet explained.
“Odd.” She bent to study the markings, relieved that the weird sense of evil was rapidly dissipating. “It looks the same.”
“Almost.” Cyn moved to a low table, smoothing the piece of scroll until it lay flat. Then, gesturing for her to join him, he pointed a finger at the hieroglyphs. “The basic patterns are similar, but now it’s . . . in focus.”
Fallon grimly concentrated on the symbols, refusing to acknowledge the tiny glow of happiness at being included.
Okay, he treated her as if she were a person with an actual brain. And he seemed to think she could contribute more than a pretty smile and the proper bloodline.
Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t too large, too male, too . . . everything.
“Can you read it?”
“Not all of it.” His shoulder brushed hers as he used his finger to trace the symbols. “It’s a confused jumble of hieroglyphs. Fairy, imp, and even human. But I can read enough to get a general idea.”
“Well?” Levet prompted, struggling to see over the edge of the table.
Cyn’s finger halted at a hieroglyph that was made up of interconnecting circles. “This is a portal and these are the veils that divide the dimensions.” He moved to a half-moon shape with a line through it. “I don’t recognize this.”
Fallon’s breath tangled in her throat. “It’s Chatri.”
“What does it say?”
“Destruction.”
There was a long, uneasy silence as they exchanged wary glances.
Finally Cyn asked the question that was obviously troubling him.
“Of the veils?”
Levet clicked his tongue, his wings drooping. “Not again.”
“No.” Fallon leaned forward, reading the part written in Chatri symbols. “It says ‘the destruction of pathways.’” She pointed toward the end of the page. “And here. ‘The entrances shall be forever closed.’” She paused, rereading the passages several times before she finally lifted her head to meet Cyn’s searching gaze. “I think this is a spell to close portals. All portals.”
Cyn frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It would mean the end of travel between dimensions,” Levet said, his brow furrowed.
Cyn frowned. “That’s it? That’s all this spell does?”
“All?” Fallon pressed a hand to her heart. “It’s . . .” She shook her head, too horrified to even come up with the words. The mere idea of closing travel between dimensions was insanity. Instead she turned her attention to the tiny gargoyle. “Is that possible?”
“That is the question, is it not?” Levet muttered, rubbing one of his stunted horns.
Fallon’s shock shifted to fury. “If there is a spell that can prevent portals from being formed—even portals that open from place to place within this world—how would the fey travel?”
Cyn folded his arms over his chest, clearly baffled by Fallon’s outrage.
“They would be forced to use human technology,” he said with a shrug. “Or use their feet like demons were meant to do.”
She sent the vampire a frustrated frown, her earlier pleasure in being treated as an equal forgotten at his complete lack of empathy for the fey.
Was he always so annoying or did he make a special effort just for her?
“Don’t you understand?” she snapped. “My people would be completely cut off from this dimension.”
He gave another shrug. “You’ve been cut off for centuries.”
“By choice,” she said through gritted teeth. Then she grimaced, rea
lizing she wasn’t being entirely honest. “Or at least the choice of my father,” she clarified.
Levet deliberately cleared his throat. “And fairies wouldn’t be the only demons either forced to return to their homelands or be separated from their families for the rest of eternity.”
The thick-skulled vampire abruptly stiffened. “Santiago.”
“Precisely. Not that I particularly care about your ill-mannered friend.” Levet gave a small sniff. “But lovely Nefri and her clan would be forever cut off from this world,” he continued, referring to the vampires that had chosen to live beyond the Veil. “And there is no way to predict exactly what the closures will do to the demons who remain here.”
“What does that mean?” Cyn pressed.
Fallon made a sound of disgust. “Typical. You didn’t care what happened to the fey, but now that it affects vampires—”
“Magic comes into this world in many forms.” Levet hastily interrupted. “Some is the natural residue from demons, but there is a great deal that seeps through the veils that separate our dimensions.”
Fallon sucked in a deep breath, regaining her composure. Damn the oversized, arrogant . . . aggravatingly gorgeous vampire. She’d never realized she even possessed a temper until he’d come crashing into her world.
“This spell would stop the magic?” she asked, determined to concentrate on the looming disaster.
Levet nodded. “Oui.”
Naturally Cyn had to intrude. “What happens to the demons who depend on it?”
“All demons depend on magic to survive.” Levet deliberately held Cyn’s gaze. “Even vampires.”
His jaw clenched. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“It’s impossible to know for certain,” the gargoyle confessed. “But there’s a very real possibility that our powers will begin to fade until we—”
“Die,” Cyn completed the sentence.
The harsh word hung in the air before Levet gave a slow nod of his head.
“That is my fear.”
Fallon pressed a hand to her throat. As a Chatri princess she could return to her homeland, but what of all the lesser fey who would die? Not to mention all the other demons who would be trapped and condemned to a slow, painful death.
“Why would anyone even consider closing the portals?” she choked out.