She gulped, nodded.
"Put your arms around my neck and hold tight."
After only a slight hesitation, Grace intertwined her shaky fingers around his neck, pressing her breasts into the hardness of his chest. Tingles raced through her nipples. "We could get into serious trouble for this," she said. "I don't know why I suggested it."
He grazed her lips with his own. "Because you love your brother."
Ripping fabric drifted to her ears a split second before Darius's shirt fell to the ground. His long, glorious wings unfurled. Her heartbeat galloped as her feet lost their solid anchor on the ground. Whoosh. Whoosh . A cool breeze stirred.
"What's happening?" she gasped, but she knew the answer. "Darius, this is-"
"Do not panic," he said, his grip on her tightening. "I have not forgotten how to fly. All you need do is hang on to me."
"I'm not panicked." She laughed. "I'm exhilarated. We're flying on the Darius Express." They moved quickly, smoothly, higher with every second that passed.
He uttered a chuckle of his own and shook his head. "I expected fear from you. Will you ever cease to amaze me, sweet Grace?"
"I hope not." She looked down, loving how the cars and people appeared like small specks, loving the giddiness of hovering in the air.
A hunter's moon loomed closer and larger, growing in intensity until she could only gape at its luminance. Darius chanted under his breath, and a strange vibration unfurled from him, a vibration that began as nothing more than a slight tremble, then grew into an intense shaking through the entire apartment building. No one below seemed to notice.
The shaking stopped.
"We are safe now," he said.
She didn't ask how exactly since they had reached Jason's upper balcony. As his wings glided them slowly forward, Darius set her firmly on the ground. The action drew a grunt from him, and she glanced up at his face. His cheekbones stretched taut and lacked any color. He kept his gaze from her as he drew in a shaky breath.
"You're weak again," she said, concerned. "Perhaps you should go home and-"
"I am fine." Irritation-with her or himself?-lashed from his tone.
She gulped, determined to get him out of here as quickly as possible. "Let's hurry, then."
White gauzy drapes billowed around the French double doors. Grace brushed them aside and tried the knob. Locked. "Do you know how to pick these?"
"No need." Darius ushered her aside, positioned himself in front of the doors and spewed rays of fire. The wood around the glass panels quickly charred. The tinkle of glass erupted as the panels fell and hit the ground.
"Thank you." Stepping over the jagged pieces, Grace waved her hand in front of her nose to whisk away the smoke. Unabashedly she entered Jason Graves's home. "It's so dark," she whispered.
"Your eyes will adjust." He didn't use a breaking-and-entering voice. He used a why-are-you-whispering-you-silly-woman voice.
Even as he spoke, her vision opened and objects became clear. A chaise longue, a glass coffee table. "What about motion sensors and security cameras?" she asked. "Are we one hundred percent protected from those?"
"Yes. The spell disabled them."
Allowing herself to relax, she padded throughout the living room, tracing her fingertips over the paintings and jewels-yes, jewels-hanging on the walls. "So much wealth," she said. "And none of it belongs to him. It's like we've stepped through the mist and into Atlantis."
Darius remained at the threshold, his teeth bared in a red-hot snarl as he took in the stolen Atlantean artifacts.
"I know you're a child of the gods," she said, hoping to distract him from his fury, "but you're not technically a god. Where does your magic come from?"
"My father," he said, losing his infuriated edge. He entered, his steps clipped. "He practiced the ancient arts."
The image of his parents' lifeless bodies flashed in her mind again, exactly as she'd seen them in her vision when he'd cast his binding spell. She ached for the little boy he'd been, the child who'd found his family slain. She couldn't imagine the pain he must have suffered-and still suffered.
"I'm sorry for their deaths," she told him, letting her remorse and sorrow seep out with the words. "Your loss of family."
Darius stilled and glanced over at her. "How did you know they were… gone?"
"I saw them. In your mind. When you cast the binding spell."
His shoulders straightened, and surprise flashed through his eyes. "They were my life," he said.
"I know," she said softly, aching for him.
"Perhaps one day I will tell you of them." The offer emerged hesitant, but there all the same.
"I would love that."
He nodded, a little stiff. "Right now, we must search for any information this Jason has about Atlantis and your brother."
"I'll check the library for the Book of Ra-Dracus ." She looked around. "I'm willing to bet he's the one who stole it from my brother."
"I will search the rest of the home."
With a last, lingering glance, they branched off. The floors were polished mahogany panels, and the decor something out of a medieval home and garden magazine. Upstairs, Grace quickly found the study. Piles of books littered every corner, and some appeared old and well used. She flipped through each one, finding references to dragons and liquid nitrogen, magic spells and vampires, but none were the Book of Ra-Dracus . A large walnut desk consumed the center and a world globe made completely of… what was that? Some sort of jewel, perhaps? Purple, like an amethyst, but jagged like crystal. She studied it more closely. In the center, a waterfall churned around a single body of land. Around Atlantis. And a pulsing sapphire.
Though she wanted to study it more closely, she forced herself on the matter at hand. She moved toward the desk and shuffled through the papers on top. Finding nothing of importance, she withdrew a letter opener and, after struggling for several minutes, pried open the drawer locks. Inside the bottom drawer, she discovered photos that shocked and repelled her. She covered her mouth to muffle her horrified gasp. The graphic images depicted dragon and human warriors covered in a white foam, blood flowing from multiple bullet wounds. Some showed Alex and Teira. The two were lying in a jewel-encrusted cell, dirty but alive. Several held grotesque imprints of tall, pale creatures with eerie blue eyes feasting off the dragon bodies. The humans standing off to the side watched, their expressions a mix of fear, disgust, and titillation.
Why take photos of his crimes? As a momento? To prove the existence of Atlantis? Or did he hope to write a book, How I Like to Kill ? She scowled.
She replayed the vision of her brother that Darius's medallion had supplied. This room wasn't the one Alex first occupied. This was a different room, one she knew resided in Atlantis. Those jeweled walls were very similar to what she'd seen inside Darius's home. When her husband returned to his home, she thought, more determined now than before, she was going with him.
Perhaps Darius sensed her growing disquiet, because the next thing she knew, he stood over her.
"What do you-" He paused, then very slowly, very precisely, reached over her shoulder and slipped the photos from her hands. She tried to pry them from him because she didn't want him to see the travesties done to his friends. He held tightly. "This is Javar and his men. And these are vampires."
Vampires. She shuddered. Having proof of their actual existence settled like lead in her stomach.
"I'm so sorry," she said, turning to face him. His eyes narrowed, but even from those tiny slits she could see their color glowed ice-blue. Fragments of grief radiated from him and into her.
"What else is in there?" He set the photos aside with one fluid motion, a deceptively calm motion.
Allowing him to change the subject, she said, "That's it. Did you find anything?"
"More artifacts from Atlantis." Radiating cold determination, he clasped her hand. "Jason Graves deserves so much more than death. He deserves to suffer."