The Night Realm

by Annette Marie

  “You don’t … Wait. You mean …”

  “I didn’t use aphrodesia on you. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”

  Her eyes widened and her blush went from “barely there” to a fiery inferno in an instant. She covered her face with her arm to hide it. “I—I mean, I didn’t …”

  Amusement turned his irises to buttery gold. Before she could implode from mortification, he caught her hand with his, fingers warm and reassuring.

  “I take it as a compliment,” he murmured, and holy crap, her heart was galloping again at the heat in his gaze—the promise of more.

  Suddenly, her knees were embarrassingly weak and she sat on the edge of the bed. How could he affect her like this without aphrodesia? That one kiss had been unlike any kiss she’d ever had—not that she’d had many. She cleared her throat and decided to change the subject before she embarrassed herself even more.

  “So.” She cleared her throat again. “The clock spell. What is it exactly?”

  The ghost of humor in his expression slid away, replaced with something much darker. “I wanted something to clear lodestones of remnant weavings. A simple tool to make my life easier. But the spell …” His jaw flexed. “I didn’t realize what I was creating. That it would be so dangerous. It devours magic—all magic. Whatever it touches. But what I didn’t realize was the way it would travel … that the more magic it ate, the greater its reach would grow.”

  He was still holding her hand, and she twisted their fingers together. “I don’t understand.”

  “Like throwing oil on a fire,” he whispered. “The more magic it feeds on, the greater the radius of its power. On activation, it devours whatever it’s touching, then it travels, touches more magic, devours that, travels farther … It keeps expanding and expanding. I didn’t design it that way, but it’s an inherent quality.”

  “It expands indefinitely?” she asked with a slight quaver in her voice.

  “As far as I can tell. Obviously, I don’t want to test its limits. Water is the only thing that slows it down, but submerging it only works when there’s enough water to muffle its expansion.”

  “That’s why you had us remove all the weavings from the bathroom.”

  He nodded. “If it caught another weaving outside the water, it would have expanded again and reached the wards on the house. After devouring those … Asphodel is full of magic.”

  Her blood chilled. “It would have wiped out every drop of magic in the whole town.”

  “Including the power reserves of every daemon caught in the radius, and even worse—”

  A scuff of sound outside the bedroom window brought her head up. She swiped a hand across her eyes, squinting with her asper, but saw nothing but the dark wards around the house, waiting to be reengaged.

  “What is it?” he murmured.

  “Thought I heard something, but it was probably just Kassia and Eryx securing the house.”

  “It doesn’t need securing,” he said with a frown. “Just arm my wards.”

  “I’ll do that once Kass and Eryx are back.” She squeezed his hand again. “What’s it called?”

  “What’s what called?”

  “Your clock spell of doom.”

  He snorted. “Why would it have a name?”

  “Everyone names their special spells. It’s a daemon thing. Or maybe a magic thing.”

  A wry smile twitched his lips. “Okay, I did name it.”

  “What then?”

  “It’s called the Kinetic Lodestone Obversion Construct. But I prefer the acronym.”

  “The acronym?” She frowned, sorting it out in her head. “K—L—O—C. So …” A giggle bubbled up in her throat but she swallowed it down and gave him a long, severe look. “KLOC. The acronym is ‘clock,’ for the spell you put in a clock.”

  He grinned, supremely pleased with his cleverness, and she burst out laughing. Getting herself under control, she couldn’t help the way her smile grew to match his or the way her insides melted as his face softened with humor.

  The front door banged and she jumped. Standing, she reluctantly slipped her hand from his. “Rest for now, Lyre. I’m going to talk to Kass about what the plan is.”

  His gaze shuttered. “Yes. You need to sort out your plan quickly.”

  Your plan. Not our plan. “What will you do?”

  He closed his eyes, exhaling with such heavy weariness that her heart ached. “I’ll figure something out.”

  She pressed her lips together, then left him to relax. Daemons didn’t normally lose all their power reserves in one shot, and he would need days to recover. Maybe even longer. Magical energy and physical energy were closely tied, and he would be weak on both counts.

  Weak—and vulnerable.

  She slipped into the main room where Kassia and Eryx were waiting. Exhausted herself, she dropped onto the sofa. The room looked a lot like Lyre’s workroom—widespread untidiness with an excessive number of books and an odd assortment of junk. A bow leaned in the corner, shorter and curvier than the one in his bedroom, and she remembered the dark wood of the weapon strapped to his back beneath his glamour.

  “Eryx set up tripwires around the complex,” Kassia said, breaking into Clio’s reverie. “I warded the house—on top of Lyre’s spells. But we can’t stay here long. That other incubus could wake up and sound the alarm at any point. Since he caught you in Lyre’s workroom, checking this house will be a logical next step.”

  Clio nodded. They didn’t have long. “Eryx, can you get us out of the town?”

  “Of course. What do you think I’ve been doing since we got here?” He glanced smugly at Kassia. “I told you I like to know my way around.”

  Deciding not to comment on that, Clio pulled the tangled mess of her hair over her shoulder and combed her fingers through it. “Do we need to make any preparations?”

  “Nope. I’ve already mapped the best route.” Eryx folded his arms. “The only thing we’re missing is, you know, Chrysalis magic.”

  Kassia’s eyes flashed with anger, and Clio paused in the midst of braiding her hair.

  “Are you still harping on that?” Kassia growled. “Forget it, Eryx. It’s too late.”

  “Is it?” He looked around, brows raised. “We might not have gotten anything from Chrysalis, but isn’t this a master weaver’s house? We can at least stock up on what’s available.”

  “We are not stealing Lyre’s spellwork,” Clio said firmly. “And if Bastian wants Lyre’s spells, then he can ask himself if Lyre is willing.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She lifted her chin. “We’re taking Lyre with us.”

  He stared at her, then roared so suddenly that she started, “Like hell we are!”

  She held her ground, Kassia at her back. “Lyre is as good as dead if he stays here. I won’t leave him behind.”

  “I don’t give a damn what—”

  “We’ll take him to Earth. Get him out of the Underworld.” She raised her voice over Eryx’s next protest. “And we can use his help. He’s more familiar with—”

  “He can’t even walk right now,” Eryx snarled. “He’ll slow us down.”

  “We’ll make it work.” She crossed her arms. “I am not leaving without him.”

  “Useless,” Eryx spat at her. “A useless, incompetent idiot. I told him. I told him you would ruin every—”

  “Enough!” Kassia barked. “We don’t have long before someone comes looking for us. Eryx, you can rage all you want when we’re back on Earth. Clio, sit down and relax for a moment. We’ll give Lyre five more minutes to gather his strength, then we’ll go.”

  Eryx glared at them, then snarled about using the bathroom and stalked down the hall. The door slammed, and Clio exhaled shakily.

  Kassia put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Clio.”

  She blinked. “Me? For standing up to Eryx, you mean?”

  “No,” she said softly. “For standing up to Bastian.”

  “Bastian? But
I haven’t …”

  “You have. He just doesn’t know it yet.” She smiled. “Choose your own path, not the one he sets for you, or you’ll always be dancing to the strings he’s pulling.”

  Clio bit her lip. What was it about Lyre that had tipped the scales? Why had she abandoned Bastian’s mission to save the incubus instead?

  She turned toward the bedroom door and studied the dark wood. Maybe it was because Lyre had helped her, had saved her more than once, and had never asked anything in return. But Bastian … Bastian always wanted something in exchange for his help—for his acceptance.

  She frowned. The bedroom door was shut. She didn’t remember closing it when she’d left Lyre to rest. Had he closed it? But he could hardly walk.

  Her stinging apprehension sharpened into fear, and she hurried toward the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lyre stared at the ceiling, Clio’s voice echoing in his ears. I am not leaving without him. No one had ever cared about leaving him behind. No one had ever risked anything on his account. No one had ever saved him from anything in his entire life.

  Yet this girl he barely knew was putting her life on the line to get him out—the one thing no one would ever do, not even Reed, who wanted him to live.

  He blinked rapidly, confused by the unfamiliar sting in his eyes. His emotions were out of control. Exhaustion was making him stupid.

  Like kissing Clio. That had been stupid. Because now the fire was churning deep inside, the dark instincts dragging him down, her taste on his lips making his mouth water. He hungered for her, the driving emptiness demanding to be filled. He couldn’t risk kissing her again.

  He shook his head sharply, banishing the thought. It didn’t matter. That was a problem for his future self. First, he needed to survive the night.

  Before Clio had spoken of taking him with them, he’d been agonizing over what the hell he was supposed to do. Dulcet wasn’t dead, which meant he would be thirsting for revenge in no time at all. That aside, their father’s judgment was looming. Reed had told Lyre he had to escape immediately, but with his strength so drained, he wasn’t sure he could walk, let alone fight. He wasn’t going anywhere. The best he could do was arm his wards and hope no one came for him before he recovered enough to defend himself.

  But if Clio took him with her …

  Something banged loudly and Lyre jolted in surprise. He turned his head.

  Eryx stood in the bedroom doorway. Smiling, he closed the door with a quiet click.

  Cold slipped through Lyre, and he propped himself up on one elbow, the muscles in his arm and back aching from the small movement. Eryx’s weight shifted as he prepared to step forward, and Lyre’s gaze darted toward the nightstand where his chains of spells and the KLOC sat.

  With the lightning-fast movements of a trained fighter, Eryx had a knife in his hand and the blade pressed against Lyre’s throat before he could complete his reach for the chains.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” the daemon said pleasantly, sliding the knife sideways. Skin parted beneath the deadly edge and wetness ran down Lyre’s neck. “One sound and we see how pretty you look with your throat slit.”

  Eryx scooped up the silver clock. He turned it over in a cursory examination, then slipped it into his pocket. “I think my employer will find this very useful, especially the bit about wiping out all the magic in a city.”

  Lyre didn’t say a word, all too aware of the dagger at his unprotected neck. His arm shook from holding up his weight, and his magic reserves were so low he’d be lucky to conjure a light, let alone cast an actual defensive spell.

  Eryx lifted the dagger—and in the next instant, his other hand closed around Lyre’s throat. He shoved Lyre down onto the bed and leaned into the choke hold.

  Lyre grabbed the daemon’s wrists, but he had no hope of breaking free. No magic. No strength. He couldn’t even make a sound, his windpipe crushed by Eryx’s weight.

  “Too easy,” Eryx murmured. “You master weavers aren’t as tough as Clio made it seem. She bashed that other one’s head in with a box, and here you are, being strangled to death in your own bed. Pathetic.”

  Lyre dug his fingers into the daemon’s wrists, unable to shift his grip. Black spots burst across his vision and buzzing filled his ears. As aching pain spread from his lungs into his body, he bared his teeth. He’d died how many times under Dulcet’s spell, and now he was going to die again?

  “Lyre?” Clio called from the other side of the door, her footsteps thudding closer. “Lyre, did you close the—”

  Eryx released Lyre as he spun to face the door, and dim light gleamed across the knife. Air rushed into Lyre’s lungs and violent coughing overtook him, convulsing his body and stealing his voice as he tried to cry out a warning.

  The doorknob turned. Eryx lunged across the room, dagger held low, positioned for a lethal strike. Clutching his middle, Lyre scrabbled to pull himself up, a strangled croak rasping from his abused throat.

  The door swung open, and Eryx thrust his dagger into the body on the other side. Blood sprayed across the floor. Lyre hung partway off the bed, his hand outstretched as though he could have reached across the distance and stopped the daemon’s strike.

  Eryx yanked the dagger out of the woman’s chest. With shock stamped across her face, she dropped to her knees, revealing Clio standing behind her. Clio stared, her eyes glassy and wide.

  Teeth bared in a vicious grin, Eryx shoved Kassia aside. She hit the wall and crumpled, weakly grasping at her chest.

  “Always getting in my way, Kass,” he mocked. “But that was the last time.”

  Clio stared at Eryx, at the bloody blade in his hand, then looked down at Kassia. Clio’s face was white and she wasn’t breathing. She was in shock. Eryx focused on her and he turned the dagger.

  “Clio!” Lyre yelled.

  Eryx lunged and Clio’s huge, beautiful summer-sky eyes plunged to pitch black. Her hand snapped out, and whatever spell she cast exploded against Eryx in a swirl of green light. He flew backward and smashed into the wall so hard his body punched a hole in the wood. He slumped down, shaking his head in a daze.

  Just as fast as they’d darkened, Clio’s irises lightened to the color of stormy seas. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she threw herself down at Kassia’s side with an anguished wail.

  Swearing, Lyre pulled himself up but fell off the bed. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he reached for his chain of spells on the nightstand, hoping desperately he had enough magic to trigger a weave.

  Eryx climbed to his feet and took one furious step toward Clio, then jerked straight. He whipped his head around as though a soundless voice had called his name. With a nasty smile, he looked at the three daemons, then launched across the room, jumped over Kassia’s legs, and wheeled through the doorway. Lyre stretched his hand toward the wall to engage his wards and trap the daemon inside, but the door slammed before he got his fingers to the wood.

  Clio didn’t react at all, hunched over Kassia with both hands on the woman’s chest and magic glowing under her palms.

  Lyre swallowed down his heart and shut off his emotions. Since standing was too much effort, he crawled across the floor to kneel in front of Clio, Kassia between them. He placed his hands gently on top of Clio’s.

  “Clio,” he whispered. “Stop.”

  “N-n-n-no.” Her staring eyes were fixed on Kassia. “H-h-have to—”

  “Clio.” He tightened his hands over hers. “It’s too late. She’s gone.”

  “No. No, she’s not.” Clio’s head came up, the useless healing magic sputtering out. “She isn’t gone. She isn’t.”

  “I’m sorry, Clio,” he whispered, sliding his thumb gently over her wet cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  “She’s not gone.” Fresh tears spilled down her face. “She’s not. She’s not!”

  He gathered his strength and pushed to his feet. When he tried to pull her off the floor, she resisted and he almost fell on her. Clenching his jaw and not a
llowing himself to falter again, he forced her up. The moment he gathered her into his arms, a screaming sob racked her entire body. She collapsed against him, and he staggered against the doorframe, holding her tight.

  “He killed her,” she wept. “How could he? How could he kill his own cousin?”

  He pressed his cheek against her hair and didn’t tell her that for some—for too many—blood ties meant nothing in the face of ambition. She didn’t need to hear that right now.

  Ignoring the fatigue dragging at his limbs, he guided her out of the bedroom and into the main room, keeping her close with each step. Eryx had left with the KLOC and Lyre was in no condition to chase him down. For now, his priority was keeping himself and Clio safe. And that meant getting out of the house.

  Putting his hands on her shoulders, he stepped back so he could look down at her. She lifted her face, tears shining on her cheeks, her eyes pools of torment and grief that wrenched at something deep inside him.

  “Clio, we need to leave.”

  “But Kassia—”

  “She would want you to be safe. That’s most important.”

  Clio sucked in a breath that shuddered through her small frame from head to toe. She rubbed the tears off her face, then nodded.

  “I need to get my spells,” he told her. “Then we run for it.”

  She lifted the chain from around her neck, lined with his best defensive weavings and the key for the KLOC. He stopped her before she could remove it.

  “Hang on to that one for me, okay?” He tucked the chain under the neckline of her shirt. “I have lots more that—”

  The front door swung open. Lyre’s head snapped around—and then the spell hit him.

  The room reeled and he crashed into the kitchen table. The legs broke and the entire thing collapsed, Lyre crumpled on top of it. Hot liquid ran down his forehead and into his eyes, blinding him.

  Someone hauled him up. His vision blurred, then steadied, bringing the face in front of his into focus.

  Ariose’s eyes were chips of topaz, hard and ruthless.

  His brother spun him around and pushed him down on his knees. Facing the rest of the room, Lyre lifted his throbbing head. Clio was on her knees too, a hand pressed to her temple. Standing in a half circle in front of her were three more daemons. Three more incubi.