Though terror should have claimed her as the dark blue eyes of the beast held her gaze, she felt a longing ache. The Dragon Prince.
It turned, its teeth snapping at the demon that was now obviously near its tail. That tail whipped around, knocking a cart several yards away and scattering the books it had contained. The Dragon snapped at the demon that must be climbing up its back by the way the spines were bending. If only she could see the damned thing. The Dragon threw itself at another shelving unit, obviously trying to dislodge it. Suddenly, the beast’s head pulled back at a painful angle.
Do something!
Where was her gun? She couldn’t see it among the piles of books. Frantically she started digging through them, gratefully wrapping her fingers over the cool metal. She aimed just above the dragon. The demon felt the books when the poor creature dropped them. How about a bullet? She jerked with the release, holding strong. The bullet hit the wall a short distance away.
Something sucked the air from her lungs, like a vacuum hose shoved down her throat. She dropped to her knees, gasping and clawing at her throat. What was the demon doing to her? Not strangling her, because she couldn’t feel its hands.
The Dragon bumped her, throwing her to the side and ending the horrible asphyxiation. She struggled to her hands and knees, hearing the sounds of battle just out of sight. Then the roar of an explosion. A puff of black smoke rose to the ceiling. Her ears rang in the sudden silence. Who had won? Or, gawd, had they both combusted?
Cyntag stepped into view, wearing his white pants and holding the tattered shirt. “We have to get out of here.”
She got to her feet, scooping up her gun with shaking fingers. “You’re a…were a…” She rubbed her forehead. “I’ve gone bonkers like my grandfather.”
Cyntag took her hand and led her through the wreckage, commenting on neither of her statements.
She glanced back to where the Elemental had died. “Is it there? The creature who died?”
He paused. “Yes. Its body will fade away.” He tugged her out the broken back door to where an old black Thunderbird was parked at an angle.
“Are you all right to drive?” he asked. “You need to follow me back to the dojo. We have a lot to cover and not a lot of time to do it.”
“I can drive. I’m crazy, not handicapped.”
“You’re not crazy. You’re just part of the Hidden.”
Smoke curled up from his untouched cigar as Purcell watched the demon he’d summoned get crushed. Through a scry orb, Purcell had watched Ruby go to Valeron’s dojo and then storm out a short time later. Valeron had followed and sabotaged the perfect kill opportunity. Now Purcell watched the Dragon snatch up the orb. The window through which he could watch snapped closed, leaving him in the dark room.
Valeron was still protecting Ruby. It baffled Purcell that someone would put their life on the line for a virtual stranger. He would not even do it for someone he knew well. Taking risks for a god was a different matter, of course.
That Fallon, Deuce god of nature, had approached Purcell for assistance was both humbling and gratifying. Most Deuces brave or desperate enough to appeal to a god had to perform a ceremony with magick-infused driftwood. In this case, a god needed him. It still awed him, even after all these years. He had failed because of Justin, but he would not let Fallon down again.
Fallon had opened the portal to the Dark Side and made the proper introductions. He had then left the door open so Purcell could access it on his own if it became necessary. That door, like a holographic image floating in his living room, was unnerving. Purcell detested having to use it again, but demons were a weapon that could not be traced back to him. Like the scry orb, the portal was round and hovered a few feet away from him.
The Demon Master appeared in the window. If Purcell passed him on the sidewalk, he might think the Master a surfer. His blond hair looked windblown, his skin tanned, eyes a brilliant blue. Purcell didn’t know if it was a façade or if he was a different sort of demon altogether. He had no interest in asking.
“You’re back,” the Master said, sounding none too enthused.
“Indeed. The demon failed, losing its life to a Dragon. I’m afraid I’m in need of more.”
The Master showed no sadness at the loss. “How many?”
“Three, maybe four, just to be certain. They seem to be easily defeated by this particular Dragon.”
Purcell suffered the Master’s silence for several long moments. Finally he said, “I shall see what is available. And willing.”
A dark shadow moved behind the Master, and a scream like nothing Purcell had ever heard pierced the air just before the window closed. Purcell knew little about the Dark Side, only that it was in a plane of existence similar to where the gods were trapped. Most Deuces did not have the courage, nor the connections, to contact the plane populated by demons and other creatures Purcell had only glimpsed in the background. It was, as the name implied, dark and flat, the way the landscape appeared during a full moon.
Demons sometimes escaped the Dark Side on their own and roamed the Earthly plane, but most were controlled by the Master. Those that got out of control were imprisoned.
The window opened again. Several dark faces lurked behind the Master, their silhouettes etched against the grim landscape.
“I have four that are willing to do your bidding for some bloodlust sport. One is a harbinger.”
“It will work into my plan.”
“Do you agree to the Three Tenets?”
“Yes,” Purcell said. They were his responsibility, and he would pay the price should they expose the Hidden. He would supervise them and send them back or terminate them if they broke out of his control. And third, he accepted the danger inherent in dealing with demons.
This was the part he despised. The demons scrambled through the window, their clawed feet scratching on the wood floor as they gathered in front of him, their temporary master. The harbinger had taken the appearance of a homeless old man. The others looked as terrifying as the first one he’d taken custody of.
“I have two targets, both Dragon.” He summoned the illusion of Cyntag’s and Ruby’s faces. “He is a powerful Obsidian. The girl is not as strong.”
One demon narrowed its red eyes at the image of Cyntag. “He is the one who took out Sed?”
Purcell hadn’t known the demon’s name. “Yes. He murdered your comrade. Perhaps your friend?” Better to motivate them with revenge.
The demons laughed, a sound like someone shaking a bag of glass bottles. One said, “That asshole? We were happy to hear of his death.”
A second one said, “But we hate Dragons even more. We don’t need revenge to juice our bloodlust.”
Could they read his mind? Purcell pushed past that disturbing thought. “You may take them out in any way that you’d like, provided it doesn’t compromise Rule Number One. Eliminate anyone who might help them. Or gets in the way.”
The demons nodded their understanding, releasing hisses that might be glee. Purcell brought up an image of the dojo and turned to the harbinger. “You, hang around this establishment and watch for our targets. You three, remain close and wait for my order.”
Now for the worst part. Purcell held out his hand to form the psychic bond. Their dry hands clasped his, and he felt the tips of their claws press into his skin.
The harbinger bared its teeth in a smile. “Till death do us part.”
The Book of the Hidden
The day of her eighteenth birthday dawned bright. Garnet had been here five years, with freedom to come and go within the confines of the castle and its grand gardens. She had a nanny and teachers, the finest of meals and entertainments. The best part was that she had not seen much of the Dragon Prince, who dined with her every now and then and asked after her welfare as though he cared. The real prison was the spell he had cast upon her—the Dragon that resided within her clawing to be let out.