“Son of a bitch,” Darius growled, fire flaming from his fingertips as he pointed them at Cadmus.
“An Aellei or Djinn?” Marcus asked calmly as he stared at the image of his brother, power vibrating off him in waves.
“Or neither,” another voice added from behind them. Strong winds surged through the room, surrounding Cadmus and pinning him in place.
Arim stared in surprise as the normally even-tempered Aerolus seethed with battle-lust. Dressed in dark trousers and a red tunic, signifying his status as a warring sorcerer, he looked wild, dangerous, and perilously close to losing control.
His grey eyes snapped with lightning, and his wind seethed through his hair and clothing, stirring Arim’s concern at the darkness of his power. For once the level-headed Wind Mage was angry—deeply, truly angry.
Alandra’s absence was most telling.
“Aerolus,” Marcus tried.
Aerolus walked around his brothers and glared at Cadmus. His stare intensified, running over Cadmus’ head to his feet, and he literally snarled. A staff suddenly appeared in his hands, and he shot a huge beam of Light into his brother.
Cadmus should have been fine, but as Arim suspected, the man posing as Cadmus squirmed in pain and tried to curl into a ball. Aerolus wouldn’t let him.
“Easy, Aerolus,” Arim said evenly, aware his nephew was as out of control as he’d ever seen him. “We need answers—”
“About where she is, and why he thought he could get away with it.” Aerolus murmured under his breath, and the imposter began to glow, so brightly they shielded their eyes. When next he appeared, he resembled one of the head servants from Tanselm’s western castle.
“Benold?” Darius stared in shock. “What the hell are you doing? You’re the traitor?”
“The Djinn traitor,” Aerolus said through clenched teeth. “He’s been with us for over thirty years, and in all that time he’s been waiting.”
“Yes, just burning for the chance to get even. The Light I’ve had to endure…” Benold clutched his abdomen and glared at them all, lingering on Aerolus. “Your girlfriend is the answer to everything.” He smiled despite the light leaking from his eyes. He had to be in considerable pain, yet he taunted Aerolus, as if wishing a quick death. “I can’t wait to see what Lidra does to her before the Dark Lord takes her. He’s going to fuck her until she screams. And then he’s going to cut her into little pieces, feeding them to the wraiths burning for her taste.”
“Aerolus, hold,” Arim said, knowing what was coming. Darius and Marcus sensed it as well, and even as they stepped closer, Aerolus forced them back with a firm wind.
“No, I’m not so naïve I can’t see what he wishes me to do.” Aerolus’ eyes burned, his gaze blinding with anger and with a strange violet glitter.
“Do you see that?” Marcus murmured.
“He’s tied to Alandra,” Darius answered. “Like Samantha was tied to me after our brush with the Wraith’s Kiss.”
Arim recalled the incident that had occurred months ago. After he’d cured Darius and Samantha of the Wraith’s Kiss, an insidious Netharat spell, Samantha had apparently wakened with red eyes, holding enough of Darius’ latent power to withstand his elemental fire. That in itself was a sure indicator of her future in Darius’ life.
To see Aerolus looking similarly fixed to his affai, Arim felt both pleased and dismayed that his nephew was so closely tied to Alandra. He only hoped Aerolus hadn’t found her only to lose her to the Dark. What that could do to a man didn’t bear thinking about, or reliving.
“Benold, I have time enough to make you suffer for your crimes,” Aerolus said quietly, the glowing fire raging from his mage staff disputing his calm. “But I won’t have my brothers overly disturbed by your presence. Tell me exactly where Alandra is and why the Dark Lord wants her specifically.”
Benold scoffed. “You’re going to kill me either way. Do what you will.”
Aerolus’ gaze narrowed, and Arim was suitably impressed at the hard warrior eyeing the enemy. This Aerolus would not bow to anyone or anything until he claimed his bride. And Dark Lords bedamned, they had done what Arim could never have hoped to with his training.
With one calculated move, they had turned Aerolus from a young sorcerer into a hardened mage unwilling to bend to anyone or anything.
Aerolus stared at Benold and threw down his staff. “Do what I will, hmm? I hope this hurts,” he growled and thrust a hand directly into Benold’s forehead.
Shadow shimmered around the connection between Aerolus and Benold, as their bodies seemed to have merged. Benold’s bloodcurdling shriek grew louder and harsher as Aerolus stood unmoving, staring firmly into his eyes.
“By the Light, that’s scary,” Darius said, staring unblinkingly at his brother.
“I knew he was powerful, but this goes beyond anything I’ve ever seen.” Marcus looked to Arim with concern.
“Watch.” Arim felt his worry and shared it, but he waited patiently, hoping Aerolus had more control than he seemed to possess.
A few ear-splitting moments later, Benold’s cries turned into desperate moans.
“You see, there is a huge difference between dying quickly and dying slowly. You, my friend, will continue to linger for days.” Aerolus refused to let Benold drop, and the sight of his fist in the man’s head caused Benold to begin pleading.
“You have what you need, now let me die already,” Benold begged.
Aerolus shook his head. “What you have done justifies no less than this. And perhaps more.” Withdrawing his hand, he muttered a spell and traced symbols into the man’s flesh, on his head, chest and hands. “Enjoy the Light. And tell Oxcen I said hello.”
Shoving Benold hard, Aerolus caused the traitor to glow in truth, but instead of a Djinn’s normal fiery man-shape surrounded by black fire, this Djinn glowed like a burning moon. Bright Light pierced the creature throughout its body, and its aura was a sickening orange.
Then Benold cried out as he faded into nothingness.
“Where is he?” Darius asked and cleared his throat.
Arim stared hard at Aerolus, impressed and even awed at the talent pouring through his nephew in currents of Shadow and Light.
“He’s visiting Marcus’ Nocumat friend Oxcen, who just so happens to be sitting in the Aellei queen’s dungeon just now. It’s fortunate Benold knew where Oxcen was, or I wouldn’t have been able to send him there.”
“Very fitting,” Marcus said with a nod, satisfaction glinting in his gaze. “That will hurt worse than anything more you could have done.”
Aerolus smiled darkly, a grim reminder all was not yet right. “You think?”
“Scary, brother.” Darius shook his head. “But impressive. I like this new you.”
Aerolus stared at Darius and sighed. “You would.” His tone relieved Arim more than words could have. “Now I’m glad to see you all here, but we have a situation. Alandra’s in Aelle in the very place where they threatened to torture and kill her. And according to Benold’s perfect memory, B’alen and ‘Sin Garu are currently waiting with Lidra and her council to judge Alandra’s crimes against the crown.”
“Let’s go get her.” Marcus stepped forward, through the band of wind that faded into warm air.
“I’m with you. Let’s go.” Darius stepped forward, his eyes fiery with anticipation, flame curling around his hands.
“Not yet,” Cadmus said, appearing out of nowhere into the living room, gripping his head.
“Not this again.” Darius frowned.
“You have to get back to Tanselm,” Cadmus gasped, clenching his eyes shut as he leaned against the wall. “I’m not shitting you. This is all a big distraction. As we speak, the Netharat are planning an attack on…” he paused and sank to his knees.