by J. Kenner
Mordi clicked off without saying good-bye and caught Izzy’s eyes. Her expression was one of stone determination rather than fear. His heart swelled. By Zeus, he loved this woman.
“I got the general gist of that,” she said. “Tell me the rest.” He drew in a breath, then told her about how Hieronymous had rigged the place. “He said mortals wouldn’t make it.”
“We’re not mortal,” she said.
He thought about that. The lady did have a point. “So our plan is to run like hell?”
Her mouth curved into a sad smile. “Even if we don’t make it, I’d rather be running with you than trapped in here.” She waved an arm behind her to indicate the tiny cell. “Just say when.”
“No time like the present,” he said. “On the count of three?”
She nodded, and he counted, and on three they took off, racing up the corridor. At first nothing happened, and Mordi had to wonder if perhaps his father had lied: The place hadn’t been booby-trapped, and that had simply been an elaborate ruse designed to knock down Mordi’s morale. But Davy had said . . .
The walls started to collapse around them.
The harsh grating of stone against stone echoed through the shadow-filled chamber as the individual cells opened, freeing all the Henchmen and other imprisoned beings. And that sound, coupled with the high keening of the creatures, gave the dancing firelight on Mordi’s fingers an even more unearthly—and ominous—appearance.
All around them, Mordi could hear the schloosh, schloosh of Henchmen heading for the exit. He and Izzy had to get there first! They had to get there, get out, and prevent any of the Henchmen from getting out, too. Because Mordi was damned if he was going to loose these creatures on the earth . . . or if he was going to be spending the rest of his days tracking the damnable things down.
They rounded the last corner . . . and ran smack into two hulking Henchmen, their squidlike bodies filling the hallway. Considering the Henchmen barely even moved at the sight of them, Mordi had to assume they’d surprised the creatures.
“Keep going,” Mordi cried, holding tight to Izzy’s hand as they raced down the final stretch. He punched a Henchman in the gut—or at least, in a gutlike area—and it toppled to the ground. He and Isole kept on moving; he could see a shaft of sunlight slanting in under the slowly closing door. The walls shifted, rocks tumbling toward them, and he lurched sideways to avoid one that fell in their path.
Behind him, Izzy screamed, and he realized that he’d lost his grip on her. He turned to find a huge shower of rocks separated them, and he saw her kicking at a Henchman. The thing was half-buried, but its tentaclelike arm clasped to her ankle as she tried to pull herself forward. She lashed out, dosing the creature with a rain of ice, but he jerked her arm as she aimed, and she froze the ceiling instead. Only a few bits of hail landed on the monster.
“Izzy!” Mordi raced toward her.
She twisted, her face contorted with pain, and he realized her ankle was perhaps broken. “No! Go! Get out of here.”
“Are you crazy?”
“The door’s closing,” she screamed. “You’ll be trapped. Now go.”
“I’m not leaving you.” He tried to scramble over the pile of rocks that loomed between them, and as he did, he turned just enough to see the exit. The door was about eighteen inches from the ground. There was no way they could escape now anyway. Not unless—
“Damn you, Mordichai!” Isole twisted, throwing her body forward and straining against the Henchman as she reached up at an awkward angle. He had no idea what she was doing.
And then he saw the ice.
It covered an entire overhead mechanism, completely freezing the pulley system that operated the door.
“It won’t hold for long,” she said. “The motor will melt the ice. Mordi, there’s no time to get me over to your side. Go,” she said again as she turned and punched at the Henchman.
She was right, of course. There was no way to get her free of that Henchman, get her through the barrier of rocks, and reach the exit. Not before the ice melted and it closed.
No way at all.
He drew in a breath and drew himself a little bit further up the pile. “I’m not leaving you, Izzy. It’s just not happening.”
54
Izzy screamed at Mordi to go, to run, but the idiot wasn’t listening to her. She couldn’t see him anymore. More of the avalanche had completely blocked the corridor except for a tiny area up top where the door mechanism was, and the shrinking hole through which she’d seen him come back for her—and through which she’d seen the door straining to close.
“Dammit,” she yelled. “For the love of Hera, go!” Tears streamed down her face, and she kicked against her captor and punched him again, but was unable to free her foot. The door was going to close soon, and she’d be damned if Mordi was going to be trapped in here, too. He’d saved her from that horrible little cell. It was her turn to save him.
“No!” he screamed from the other side of the dirt. In her incapacitated state, she’d never survive with the frenzied Henchmen. Even if he could escape and break back in with a Protector team, it would be too late. “I’m not leaving you. You’re either coming out with me or I’m staying with you, but I am not leaving without you. Do you understand me?”
She did. She’d known he loved her; she’d read it in his soul. But now she knew what love meant to Mordi. He would die for her . . . and she wasn’t about to let that happen. She didn’t know what they could do, but she was willing to try anything.
Above her, Mordi’s eyes and head emerged at the top of the rock pile. And just seeing him gave her hope.
She flashed him a smile. “You’re crazy, but okay. What do you want me to do?”
“That’s my girl,” he said as she kicked once again at the Henchman’s gut. He dug his way through the dirt. “I’m going to burn that Henchman, and when I do, you need to jerk free and scramble here faster than you’ve ever run before.”
She nodded. “I can do that,” she told herself. The thing made another grab for her waist, and she kicked again, once more feeling her foot sink into something the consistency of Jello. Sweet Hera, these creatures were disgusting. “There’s one other thing,” he said.
“Why—”
Kick.
“—am I not—”
Kick, kick.
“—surprised?”
Kick!
The Henchman’s slimy grip loosened around her thigh, though it still had a tight hold on her ankle. “Okay,” she said. “What?”
“The door.”
Cold filled her. She loved Mordi. She could no longer read him. But even so, she knew exactly what he was going to say. “What about the door?”
“Can you see it? We have to make it hold a bit longer. Take a good look before you run, and hold it in your mind. Once that ice melts, I need you to help levitate it. I can’t do it on my own, and I’m still weak from my Zephron impersonation a few hours ago. And I’m going to need much of my strength for the fire.”
Sweet Hera, she’d been afraid of this.
She drew in a breath, started to speak, then stopped. How could she tell the man she loved he was about to give up his life with her? She couldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
He was right. There was no other way. They’d either manage it—she’d manage it—or they wouldn’t. And as foolhardy as it seemed, with Mordi’s love to bolster her, she felt stronger than ever.
Just to prove it, she walloped the Henchman good. She even managed to free herself, and just as she was about to yell to Mordi that it was okay, that they didn’t need his fire and he could hold the door open, two things happened at once: The ice holding the mechanism melted, and five other Henchmen pounced on her.
“Now!” Mordi shouted.
She gathered her energy, pictured the door in her mind, and reached out, feeling its weight, its density, trying to become the door. Nothing happened, though, and she had to fight tears—fight to concentrate—because sh
e would not disappoint Mordi.
Then everything felt hot and red, and she realized that Mordi had let loose with his fire. She jerked forward, suddenly free from the squealing Henchmen, and scrambled up and over the rocks. She didn’t think about where she was going. She only concentrated on diving through the gap, or moving—and on keeping that door in her head.
The pulley strained and groaned above, its terrible noise echoing through the catacombs as she reached Mordi. He was obviously spent, but he grabbed her arm. “It’s heavy. But you can do it.”
Behind them, one of the Henchman—now a shrieking flaming mass—was clamoring up the rocks behind them.
“Come on,” she yelled, and they ran toward the door.
There were only about twelve inches of clearance now, but she concentrated with all her heart and soul, stronger with the knowledge that Mordi believed in her.
And it worked. She couldn’t quite believe it. In fact, she was so amazed that she almost came to a dead stop, but Mordi tugged her on. They slid under the heavy stone, pushing their bodies beneath; her moving more slowly on her bad ankle, and the burning Henchman right on their heels.
“I can’t hold it anymore,” she cried. She heard the squeal of the pulley, fighting to let the stone descend.
“I’m our!” Mordi shouted, and then his hands curled around her underarms and he pulled. She shot forward into his embrace, and into the clear, just as the stone door finally crashed to the ground. It destroyed the last, persistent Henchman, cutting him in half with a satisfying squish.
Izzy’s breath was ragged as she collapsed against Mordi. She pressed her face into his chest and simply breathed in his scent. “I knew you’d come,” she said again.
“Always,” he said, stroking her hair. “Forevermore.”
She pulled away, just enough to look in his eyes, then smiled. “So, you didn’t manage to pull all that off at the end just so you wouldn’t have to spend eternity with me in a catacomb, did you?”
His smile matched hers, and he pulled her close. “You know, now that I think about it, eternity with you in close quarters sounds pretty darned appealing.”
For her part, Izzy completely agreed.
Epilogue
Mordi had never been a particularly sentimental sort, but even he had to admit that Deena and Hoop’s wedding was beautiful. Deena glowed, and a tuxedo made even Hoop look dashing. And through the entire ceremony, Mordi wasn’t able to do anything else except imagine what he’d look like in a tux . . . and what Izzy would look like dressed all in white.
The band was playing now, and the bride and groom were dancing. “Shall we?” Isole whispered, leaning over so close that Mordi caught the delectable scent of her hair. He’d awakened that morning to that clean, soapy smell.
He wanted to awaken that way every morning.
“Mordi?” Izzy prompted. Her blue eyes were wide, sparkling with anticipation of a spin around the dance floor.
“Let’s sit this one out, okay?”
She frowned, but didn’t argue. “Okay.” She touched his arm. “You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”
At that, he couldn’t help but smile. “Just the opposite. Everything is perfect. I just want to sit here. With you.”
She seemed to understand, and she scooted closer, then took his hand. They sat like that for a few minutes, watching their friends move across the dance floor, just soaking in the atmosphere of celebration and love.
When the band took a short break, Zephron came over and put his arm around his niece. “I will say again what excellent work you two did.”
Color rose on Izzy’s cheek; she didn’t seem to take compliments well. She’d have to get over that, Mordi thought. He intended to shower her in them.
“I’m glad you came to the wedding, Uncle Zephron,” Izzy said. “I’ve heard all of Deena and Hoop’s stories, and even though they’re mortal, they’ve helped save the world so many times. I know they’re honored you’re here.”
“And I’m honored to be invited.” He handed over a small folder of papers. “Since I knew you would be here, too, I decided to take this opportunity to once and for all disabuse you of certain notions.”
As Mordi watched, Isole flipped through the papers, her expression first confused, then shifting to wary joy. “Is this true?” she asked, and he had to fight not to ask what they were talking about.
“It was never me,” Zephron said. “It’s true, you weren’t able to acknowledge levitation on your affidavit, but the committee considered your application without any regard to your familial relationships.”
Mordi frowned, not understanding. “You can’t levitate? I saw you levitate.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not so much of a problem anymore. And I think I’m over the claustrophobia, too.” She handed the folder back to Zephron. “It’s sweet of you to do this, but it wasn’t necessary. I finally proved my worth. To myself, at least. And that’s what counts.”
Mordi squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about, but he of all people knew just how much it meant to be able to prove—really prove—that you belonged where you wanted to belong.
“What happened to my father?” he asked.
Zephron almost smiled. “For Hieronymous, I’d say a punishment worse than death. But you already knew that, and it wasn’t what you were asking.”
“No,” Mordi agreed, “but you’re right.”
“Because of the nature of that reverse-polarization device, the memory-swipe feature didn’t engage. Thus, your father still is somewhat dangerous, as he knows many of our secrets. His intellect, however, has faded, and I’m not entirely certain he would know how to launch a full attack even if he wanted to. We will keep an eye on him, of course. Clyde and Romulus are still at large and may try to contact him. But I don’t consider him much of a threat anymore. And right now, we’re simply trying to instruct him on the basics of mortal life. After that—” Zephron held out his hands in question. “After that, we’re not sure. Though there are some excellent training programs at many of the finer mortal fast-food establishments.”
Izzy laughed, then quickly became serious again. “And Patel?” Izzy said. “Is he in a lot of trouble?”
“Frankly, no. Hieronymous captured his sister just as he’d captured your father. The placement of the pens was an exchange. Patel should have handled it better, of course, but his punishment will not be as severe.”
“Good,” Izzy said.
“And the treaty negotiations?” Mordi asked. “Still stalled?” So far, every morning the Daily Protector reported the same thing.
“Officially,” Zephron said. “But I can tell you in confidence that I am highly optimistic.”
“Good,” Mordi said. “I’m not terribly political, but I’ll admit to wanting the revised treaty to pass just because it would tick off my father.”
This time, Mordi was certain that Zephron smiled. “I cannot say I share your motives,” Zephron said. “At least, as High Elder, I cannot say that in public.”
Mordi and Izzy both laughed, and then the band started up again. Mordi nodded briefly to Zephron, then laid a hand on Isole’s arm. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said to Zephron, “I think they’re playing our song.”
He led her onto the floor, and she clung to him as they swayed in time with the music. Zoe and Taylor were out there as well, along with Hale and Tracy, who had Elmer perched on her shoulder. Jason and Lane were sitting this one out, and Jason was massaging Lane’s swollen ankles. Deena’s brother Nick was sipping a Scotch by the bar, his wife Maggie drinking a glass of milk.
For so many years, Mordi had been removed from this group, distanced by his own foolish choices. He was here for good now, though, and at the moment, Mordi was certain that he’d discovered the real meaning of happiness: dancing in a room surrounded by friends and family, with the woman he loved in his arms.
Because, really, life couldn’t get much better than that. And to p
rove the point, he bent down and kissed her.
She kissed him back, her enthusiasm equal to his own. And as he lost himself to the kiss, Mordi learned a new lesson in physics—fire and ice each equaled the other out . . . and when he and Izzy kissed, all that was left was the love.
Keep reading for a Chapter One excerpt of The Seductive Charm of a Sexy Shifter a Prequel novel in the Extraordinarily Yours series … available in KU!
Or keep reading for a peek at Carpe Demon, book one in the Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series!
Looking for contemporary romance? Keep going for a Chapter One excerpt from Down On Me, the first book in J. Kenner’s Man of the Month series.
And don’t miss either of the Extraordinarily Yours novellas, Mayhem, Matchmakers, and a Bit of Bewitching and How a Sexy Hero and a Marvelous Makeover (Sorta!) Saved the World
The Seductive Charm of a Sexy Shifter (Excerpt)
There are people in this world who believe in magic, who search for the possibility in their daily lives. With awe, they open fortune cookies hoping for an omen, and turn over stones searching for fairies. They avoid sidewalk cracks, the thirteenth floor, and the undersides of ladders. And they hold fast to the conviction that if they keep combing beaches they’ll find a genie in a bottle.
To these people, love is just as magical as a unicorn in your driveway.
Nicholas Goodman was not one of these folks.
It didn’t matter. Maggie found him anyway.
“This is what you want?” Old Tom teetered in the crook of the juniper tree, peering down at her with his one good eye.
Maggie pictured her Nicholas. Perfect Nicholas. She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”