by Kira Nyte
“What is going on?”
“You’re in danger. They caught your uncle. Miriam. She’s one of them. She’s one of their spies. Come on. We’ve got to go.”
Ariah’s gaze lowered to her father’s hands. One gripped his wrist in an attempt to tug away the hand picking the lock. When she turned her attention back to his face, he clenched his teeth behind peeled back lips. Tears streamed down his face.
His desperate eyes snapped up to her. Pinned her with terror. He mouthed the word “Run!” as if he wanted to scream it. The veins in his neck bulged. His face turned a shade darker in the night’s shadows. He mouthed it again. The hand fidgeting with the lock worked faster.
In that moment, her entire body whipped into action. She didn’t bother with shoes or her purse. There was no time. She snatched the keys to the beat-up Toyota—thankfully, she was able to convince Alazar to bring it to the house—and bolted out the front door. The air chilled her skin, but the essence of dark, pulsing energy closing around her injected another dose of adrenaline into her escape.
She reached the car, climbed behind the wheel, turned the engine, and burned rubber down the driveway. The tires squealed as she jammed the brakes, shifted to drive, and peeled down the road. It wasn’t until she was heading down the winding road leading out of Nocturne Falls that she cussed herself for not grabbing her cell phone.
“Alazar? Where are you? Please, I hope you can hear me.”
As foolish as it was, she reached into her pocket and rubbed the circular coin tucked safely in her jeans.
“Get me out of here, coin. Get me far enough away from them. Get me to Alazar.”
She pressed the accelerator as hard as she could.
“Ariah, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
“No. I’m not.” A rush of relief flooded her. Alazar’s sharp tone, mixed with his barely hidden concern, did wonders to her shaking muscles. “I don’t know what’s going on, but my father is at your house. I think they’re controlling him. He tried to get me to leave with him, but he kept mouthing for me to run. He couldn’t speak, and his thoughts didn’t match his panic.”
“Where are you now?”
“Heading out of Nocturne Falls.”
“We’re coming back now. Don’t stop—”
Static exploded in her head, drowning out Alazar’s voice. She shrieked, her ears ringing. A flash of dark blue light shot across the street, creating a fog-like net. She jammed on her brakes, but the car plowed straight through the fog.
The static died out. A sizzle went throughout the car a split second before the engine, and everything else, died. The Toyota rolled to a stop.
Ariah sat stone still in the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles ached. The eerie silence that followed was cut only by her racing heartbeat and her short, gasping breaths.
Staring at the dark street ahead, flanked by thick, dense forest, there was no doubt she was not escaping. Not when magic was involved and she possessed nothing but the ability to talk to her dragon through her mind.
She didn’t even have shoes.
“You have to try. You’re as good as dead staying here.”
Swallowing against the parched texture of her mouth, she lowered a hand to the door handle, her eyes scanning every inch of her surroundings. Slowly, she opened the door, holding her breath as it creaked on its old hinges. The noise could have been a foghorn for how loud it echoed in the dense silence. Cautiously, she climbed out of the car, casting a glance down the road behind her, where the net had been and was no longer.
“Alazar?”
Ariah left the door open and broke into a sprint in the direction she had been headed. She stumbled when she ran over a sharp rock, flailing her arms to stay vertical. As she started to veer closer to the side of the road in hopes of blending into the shadows, she made a last-minute decision to keep to the center. The forest was dark. Danger lurked. Her gut screamed the warning. Her head throbbed from rushing blood and adrenaline.
And fear.
“Alazar!”
A large, black-cloaked figure appeared out of thin air in front of her. A fabric-draped arm lifted, fingertips stretching out from beneath the cuff.
Her toes and heel took a beating when she jammed a foot down, twisted, and hung a left, barely escaping the figure. Another cloaked figure materialized in her new path. She ducked beneath the arms that swung for her.
A whoosh sounded from behind her. A fierce rush of air knocked into her back, pitching her forward. She shrieked, tucking into herself as she hit the pavement and rolled. A sharp pain jolted down her arm from her shoulder. Dull throbs erupted from her hip and knees as she rolled out of her fall and scurried to get up.
An invisible weight crashed down and flattened her, belly down, to the ground. She growled, thrashing against unseen iron cords, unable to lift her legs from the pavement. Her hands lay splayed over the cool ground, her fingertips barely able to pull away from the road. She could lift her head without a problem and twisted her neck enough to see a herd of dark, shadowy figures surrounding her.
“Alazar! Help me!”
Ariah had no idea what Alazar would do, what he could do. He had no power in the human realm. Apparently, those rules didn’t apply to the Baroqueth.
“Get her up.”
Ariah scowled as her body levitated off the ground, tilted until she was upright, floating at least a foot off the road. She still had no control over her limbs, but the wild rage that erupted when she located Miriam standing at the front of the group left her grinding her teeth.
The woman she’d despised for the last ten years smiled up at her. That smile was anything but warm, reminding her of a snake.
“My years of patience have finally paid off.”
Miriam snapped her fingers. Ariah’s attention shifted from the witch to the figures of two men forced through the sea of black cloaks. She hid her shock, her panic from her expression as she recognized her father and Uncle Mark. Deep down, she’d known her father’s words rang true when he said her uncle had been captured. These malicious sorcerers had turned her father into a puppet. They took her uncle. Now, they had her.
Miriam closed the distance between them. Ariah prepared to spit in her face, but the blasted witch sealed her lips closed.
“Manners, Ariah. A young lady does not behave so poorly.” Miriam laughed. She stretched out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Let me have the dragonstone.”
Ariah twisted her face into the best angry glower she could muster. Miriam’s smile took a quick southward dive.
“The stone, little girl.”
Ariah snorted. Oh, the colorful words leaving tread marks in her head right now screamed for the chance to manifest on her tongue.
“Alazar, Miriam and about seven other Baroqueth have us. Uncle Mark, my father and I.”
If she could stall the group long enough for Alazar to tear into Nocturne Falls along this very road, she might have a chance to escape.
“Mark, did you lie to me?” Miriam asked, turning enough to look at Uncle Mark from over her narrow shoulder. His face was cast in a mask of dark fury, his eyes glowing like lit coals. “Do you have the stone?”
“Even if I did, it would never come near you,” Uncle Mark spat.
Ariah groaned. Well, damn. It wasn’t fair that her uncle could speak, but she couldn’t.
Miriam whipped back to her, grabbed her by the chin in a painful grip that made her wince, and yanked her head within inches of her enemy’s. “Where is the dragonstone, Ariah?”
Ariah grumbled. Miriam scowled, unleashing the seal on her lips with a flick of her hand. Although Ariah still wanted to spit at the witch, she refrained for the sake of her freedom of speech.
“I don’t have it.”
“Your father gave it to you.”
“Well, I don’t have it. And if I did, you’d have to pry it from my dead hands.”
Miriam’s eyes narrowed, her head tilted, and that serpentine smile
stretched across her red lips. “My dear, that can definitely be arranged.”
Chapter Twenty-one
The instant the telepathic connection severed, Alazar roared. Then he was on the phone with Zareh. Syn called Cade when Alazar alerted him Ariah was in trouble. The dragon inside him wanted to take to the sky and get to his woman.
That would be foolish. He couldn’t barrel into a situation without knowing what to expect other than finding the Baroqueth holding Ariah, Mark, and Mike hostage. He couldn’t risk unleashing his fury. He needed to keep his head to save his lifemate.
He blew through the dark side roads in his Mustang with no heed for the danger of his breakneck speed. He and Syn would survive a wreck. He wasn’t sure if he would survive the next ten minutes it would take to reach Nocturne Falls.
“Cade wants us to hold back.”
“No.”
“Alazar—”
“No!” Alazar flung Syn a poisonous glance. “I’m not holding back.”
“We don’t know how many there are.”
“And Ariah is with that unknown number, helpless to protect herself. If they want to harm her, they can and they will. I won’t let it happen.”
“Shouldn’t we call in your friends? They told us if anything happened—”
“Enough, Syn. There’s no time. Zareh’s securing Kaylae with Willa and Pandora, and I would like nothing more than to have Ariah with those three right about now.”
Alazar pressed the accelerator harder when he caught the reflective siding of a police cruiser lying in wait. The lights came on before he had passed the cop. Syn groaned. Alazar merely glanced at the car fading in his rearview mirror. He cut his headlights and switched to his dragon’s sight as he pushed his Mustang faster.
“You should try for the Daytona 500 or something.”
“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” Alazar growled. The reflection of the cruiser’s lights cut through the thickening forest banking either side of the road. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel before wrapping his fingers around the leather again. “I shouldn’t have left her alone.”
“Al, she was safe until she fled the house.”
“If I was there, she wouldn’t have had to flee the house.”
“Listen, she doesn’t have your jewel, so they’ll use her as leverage to get it from you. She’s alive for the moment. You know that.”
“And Mark? Mike? They’re pretty much disposable to the Baroqueth. Ariah is the gem. She’s the prize.” A new sense of urgency surged. “I’m not about to lose another Keeper and I’m certainly not losing my lifemate.”
The sign for Nocturne Falls flashed by them. A minute later, Alazar slammed both feet against the brake pedal, the car spinning as he veered to avoid hitting the person standing in the middle of the road. At that same moment, he caught a glint of metal—a car—as he regained control of his car and slowed to a stop, facing the wrong way on the road. The police cruiser’s lights drew closer.
Alazar threw his door open and rushed around the hood of the car, his focus on the cloaked Baroqueth standing exactly where he had when Alazar almost hit him. The man threw off his hood, dark eyes flashing with shards of silver. Alazar lunged toward the slayer.
He slammed into an invisible barrier, stumbling back on his feet. He tried again with the same results. This small show of power struck a harsh dose of reality into the situation. Yes, the Firestorm suspected their enemies had gotten stronger, but the ease behind this slayer’s ability to cast that spell showed just how powerless Alazar was in this world.
“If you wish to save your lifemate, you will forfeit your dragonstone. You have one hour, Alazar Brandvold. One hour to deliver the dragonstone to your Keeper’s home.” The corner of the slayer’s mouth quirked. “Zareh and his lifemate are more than welcome to join us tonight. It is only a matter of time before we go after him again.”
“If you dare harm Ariah—”
“You will determine her fate.”
With a snap, the Baroqueth vanished. Alazar clenched his fists, fire flickering in his vision. Smoke burned his throat and formed a thick haze around his head. His head throbbed, panic and anger swelling.
The rumble of his car’s idling engine was muffled by the roaring in his ears. Syn threw open the passenger door and hitched his thumb toward the flashing lights.
“Get in. We’ve gotta book.”
Alazar dropped into the seat and pulled the door closed as Syn opened up the engine on their way into Nocturne Falls.
The clock was ticking. He had one hour. One hour to come up with a plan that would save Ariah’s life, as well as Mark and Mike. There was no sense in contacting Sheriff Merrow or Hugh or Alice Bishop. Their friends would not survive against the power and the magic he feared he’d face in one hour.
No. This was his to deal with. One way or another, he would make sure Ariah was safe. If that meant he handed over his dragonstone, and his life, to the Baroqueth, he was prepared to do just that. But not without a fight.
A lick of fire rolled over his tongue. He swallowed it back.
Tonight would be the ultimate gamble.
Tonight, he gambled for Ariah’s life.
* * *
“I can’t sit around and wait for them to decide our fate,” Ariah said, pacing the floor in front of the fireplace. Her bare feet throbbed from the abrasions, but it didn’t stop her from moving about. She needed to burn off this anger enough to think clearly. She tossed her uncle several glances, receiving his back as he perused the books on his shelves. They were locked in Uncle Mark’s office, biding their time until Alazar showed up to make an exchange. Though Miriam refused to tell them what the exchange was, Ariah wasn’t an idiot. “Uncle Mark, he can’t give up that stone.”
“He will.”
“He can’t. He’ll forfeit his life if he hands over that stone.” She was too angry to be upset by the prospect of losing Alazar. She would not believe it was even a possibility. “This is ridiculous. Is there nothing we can do?”
“We have no power in this world, Ari. The Hollow is our source of magic and has no direct connection to this realm. Therefore, we have no direct connection with our motherland.”
“What are you looking for over there? Now isn’t the time to start reading.”
“Ari, I know you’re mad, but you need to get yourself under control.”
“Trying here.” Ariah threw her father a perturbed look. “This all started with that stunt at the auction house.” She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, and angled her body to face her father. The man sank deeper into the leather sofa, his frown tugging hard. “Why would you ever do that to me?”
“They were there. It had to look authentic. I had to make you scared enough that you would abandon me. I prayed they didn’t realize you were my daughter. It was the only hope I had of getting you and the dragonstone far away from me and the Baroqueth.”
“How did you know the jewel would be there? After all these years?” Uncle Mark asked, at last turning away from the bookcase. Her father’s shoulders sank.
“Luck, really. I happened to catch wind of a strange box that was being put up for auction by a local museum. A former coworker’s client mentioned it. He had a catalog and I saw a picture of the box. Knew instantly it was your lost dragonstone. How it ended up at an auction, your guess is as good as mine. Unfortunately, it was public enough that the Baroqueth must’ve heard of it as well.”
Ariah jammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Her fingers wrapped around the coin she’d tucked away. She could definitely use some luck right now.
“What can we do? Alazar is not going to give them the dragonstone. I won’t let him. No one has magic or power, except for them.” Ariah jerked her head toward the closed office doors, indicating their Baroqueth captors. She pursed her lips. “How that’s even fair is beyond me. Give the evil players the upper hand.”
Uncle Mark turned back to his books. Ariah groaned, her attention panning
to the curtained windows. She had tried every possible exit to escape, but the evil sorcerers sealed up the room. The curtains might as well have been cement and the doors nothing more than an illusion.
They were trapped.
Ariah met her uncle by the bookcase. “How can you browse your books at a time like this?”
Uncle Mark’s lips quirked. He tapped the old leather spine of a thin tome before pulling it off the shelf. Ariah moved closer, curious as her uncle rested the ancient-looking book on a stand. The lettering on the leather front had been worn by time. The edges of the spine and the covers were torn, tattered until the book itself looked like it might fall apart where it lay.
“What is that?”
Uncle Mark opened the book, taking great care as the spine creaked. The pages, yellowed and dried like cornhusks, had hand-written passages and faded colored drawing. The language was a mystery.
“Can you read that?” Ariah asked, her voice just above a whisper.
“Me? No. Alazar, yes. And since I bled into the dragonstone upon stepping into my position as Keeper, I can translate it through my connection with him.”
“What is this book?”
She dared not get her hopes up, especially as the corner of the page broke off when her uncle turned it.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Ariah looked up at her father, who had come to stand behind her. The sparkle in his eyes prodded her hope. Maybe this thing that looked like it would disintegrate into a pile of ash if breathed on was a good omen.
She held her breath.
“Yes,” her uncle murmured, turning another page with excruciating care. Ariah caught herself beginning to wince, praying the page didn’t flake into a million pieces. “I had forgotten about it.”
“Do you think you can find a spell? And would it work?”
Uncle Mark looked up and scanned his bookshelves. He went to the glass cabinets that flanked either side of the bookcase, pulled one door open, and withdrew a rough-looking rock.
The low-resonance rumble of Alazar’s car approaching brought Ariah up straight. “Alazar? Can you hear me?” One, two, three heartbeats. Silence. This was definitely not good. “Alazar.”