by Unknown
It was a split-second decision, all instinct and no thought. He surged for Fiona, knowing that the boulder would likely crush him as he pushed her out of its way. His instincts had moved him and his body had followed. His brain had no say in it.
A thousand pounds of stone slammed into his back. The crash of their collision sent a bolt of agony from his shoulders to his feet.
He collapsed on the floor, his body a crushed mess of pain. Thank gods the boulder wasn’t on top of him. It had bludgeoned him in the back and hurtled into the wall. The rest of the stones had fallen still. The spell was done, but this could have killed him, for gods’ sake. What the hell had he been thinking?
“Nay!” Fiona’s scream echoed in his head. “Ian!”
She’d been what he’d been thinking, he realized. Shite. That was unexpected.
She knelt over him and prodded at his back. He groaned at the stab of pain.
“Where does it hurt?” she asked.
Everywhere. He closed his eyes and sucked in a steadying breath. The agony that had streaked through his back was fading now, courtesy of Mytheans’ speedy healing ability.
He gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his knees. There were definitely some broken bones. A few ribs, maybe his scapula. But even that was fading. It’d take some time to heal, but he could function.
“What the hell were you doing?” Fiona cried.
He hesitated. The truth of what he’d done, what it meant about his feelings, stared him in the face. Admit to her that he’d been willing to die for her? Hell, he didn’t know how to process that. How would she? It was crazy.
Her eyes turned stark, dark in her pale face. “You sacrificed yourself for me. That was…” She looked around the room as if she’d find the word she wanted lying in the corner. “That was so stupid.”
“What?” That was not what he’d expected.
Or was it? She was right. It’d been stupid. Ever since he’d walked out of the slums of Old Town as a boy, he’d dragged himself from misery by looking out only for himself. Caring for someone, like the old woman who’d brought him up before he’d gone to the workhouse, ended with abandonment. Willingly or not, people left you.
Helping, giving to others got you nowhere. Looking out only for himself had gotten him through life, turned his dirt-brown past into something brighter.
Then he’d met her, and so quickly, so blindingly quickly that it had happened almost without him realizing it, he’d sacrificed himself for her. In all his life, he’d never even considered sacrificing himself for someone else. Not even Logan.
But with her, he hadn’t had time to think. Instinct had taken over. His subconscious seemed to know more about what she meant to him than his mind did. He had no fucking clue how to deal with that.
“It’s done. Forget it.” He knew the words were harsh, the tone worse. But he didn’t know how else to be.
“I doona see how that’s possible.”
“It does no’ matter,” he gritted. “The demons are still ahead of us.”
“Gods, you’re right. But this is no’ finished.” Her eyes were flint hard.
He staggered to his feet. She raced ahead to the basement door. Ian limped to keep up. He’d better start healing faster. They hadn’t a second to lose. If the demons were a species that could aetherwalk, they’d be back in their afterworld seconds after finding the book.
The basement door was cracked open just slightly, the lock no longer engaged. Ian palmed his knife. They passed through the door and crept down the white linoleum stairs, the tension in the air thick as custard. A long white hall stretched before them. Doors on either side led to offices and laboratories, according to the their plaques.
At the end, a door as unassuming as the rest led to the vault. There’d be a sturdy, locked door beyond it that really kept people out.
Ian took one last look at Fiona. They locked gazes for the briefest of seconds, then headed toward the demons.
CHAPTER TEN
Fiona crept down the hall behind Ian, her eyes on his broad back and the door in front of him. His limp had lessened. Some Mytheans healed more quickly than others, and he was in his prime.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, a desperate tattoo. They reached the end of the hall. The first door, the one without locks, was cracked open as the door at the top of the stairs had been. Fiona peered through the lower part of the crack and felt Ian do the same above her.
The space between the false door and the heavier one was small, not more than five feet, and beyond it the heavy vault door was swung open to reveal a large room full of shelves and bins and drawers.
“Not here,” a gruff voice said from within.
Her eyes tracked the voice to the far corner, behind a shelf. She couldn’t see enough to identify the species.
“Nor here,” another voice answered. This one higher pitched, possibly female. Fiona couldn’t see her either, but it sounded like she was closer and on the left side of the room.
“Gelve? Rone? Any luck on your side?” The gruff voice from the back asked.
They would say no, Fiona knew. She could sense the book like she had sonar in her mind. It was tucked all the way back in the very farthest left corner of the room, possibly even in a secret drawer.
A no and a grunt were the only answers. Fiona waited to see if any more would speak. Four against the two of them.
Fiona looked up at Ian.
“Four,” she mouthed.
He nodded once, his expression grave.
She held up one finger, then pointed to herself and mouthed, “I can take one.”
She was a good fighter, but combat wasn’t in her job description. Saying she could handle more would just get them screwed.
Ian looked at her hard, as if trying to decide if she really could. She scowled back. She had a damn good chance at taking one of the demons, especially the smaller one with the high voice. At least, she assumed it was smaller.
Finally, Ian nodded. He pointed to himself and mouthed, “Three.”
Her brows rose. Three? Really? Many species of demons could be as big and as dangerous as the Mythean Guardians. So far, she’d only ever seen the clever thief side of Ian. But if he said he could fight, she believed him.
He leaned in and pressed his mouth to her ear. “Take off my collar so that I can go in first, invisible, and see where they are. I’ll go to the back wall. When I reappear, go for your demon.”
Shite. He wanted her to take off his collar? He could run off on her. But he’d just risked his life for hers. He wouldn’t ditch her. Right? She bit her lip. She had no idea.
But he was right—it would help their chances if he could fight while invisible.
“Fine. But it goes back on immediately after.”
“Harsh.” But he grinned.
She nodded and pulled it off.
Without warning, he disappeared.
Wow. She’d never seen his Sylph powers before, but now she understood why he’d been such a damn good thief. The descendants of air spirits really had an advantage. She trained her eyes on the back wall of the vault and waited for him. A little part of her itched with the idea that he was headed back up the stairs toward freedom, but a bigger, more insane part of herself trusted him.
Ten seconds later, he flashed visible at the back of the vault and disappeared again. As quietly as she could, she rushed into the vault, shot to the left, and came upon her prey.
It faced away from her, but damn, was it tall. Very slender, though, and of indiscernible species.
Less than a second later, the sound of a groan and a thud came from the back of the room. Ian had taken care of the first.
Fiona raised her sword and swung it at the demon, who spun just in time and took the barest nick from her blade. It faced her, revealing the eerie features of some type of Caoineag half-breed. Not a demon, then. Caoineag, as Highland banshees were called, were fierce and deadly. A full-breed Caoineag would still be in the forests, but this one woul
dn’t be limited by that and would have all the powers of her banshee brethren.
The Caoineag shrieked, a wail so high and sharp that Fiona’s ears felt like they’d exploded. The pain nearly sent her to her knees, but she stiffened and raised her sword again. She struck and missed.
The Caoineag yanked her own sword from the scabbard at her side, flipping long black hair away from her face. The banshee’s sword clashed against her own with a ring of metal. Pain sang up Fiona’s arm from the collision, and she fought back, striking hard.
Fiona landed a blow to the banshee’s arm. The banshee shrieked, but held onto her sword and swiped it across the front of Fiona’s hip.
She gasped. Though shallow, the wound burned like acid. Shite.
As Fiona stumbled backward, she caught sight of another demon out of the corner of her eye. He was an enormous, hulking beast. A demon of some kind, no doubt, and his huge head swung as he glanced around frantically, looking for the threat that had killed his partner.
Then his head toppled from his body.
Ian. She couldn’t see him, but gods, was he strong, to take such a big demon’s head straight from its body. He would have had to leap into the air when he struck.
Fiona returned her attention to the Caoineag. With a burst of strength, she took advantage of an opening and plunged her sword into her opponent’s gut. The banshee shrieked and fell to her knees. The piercing cry made Fiona crash to her knees as well, her head ringing.
She pried her eyes open, searching frantically for the other enemies. Her gaze raced around the room until it fell upon a pale, slender individual whose skin was traced with geometric black tattoos.
He was standing right in front of the drawer that held the book.
Nay. She stumbled to her feet as Ian surged toward the demon. In his haste, he seemed to have lost his invisibility. One of them just had to reach the demon in time. Before he—
The demon reached into the drawer, then disappeared. The book went with him.
“Nay!” Fiona collapsed to her knees again. “Nay!”
“Fuck!” Ian yelled.
“He’s— he’s—” Gone. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. He’d grabbed the book and aetherwalked to safety.
It was gone. A sob tore from her throat. Her fists clenched painfully around nothing. Her future was gone. But worse, the tool that could incite divine war was about to be in the hands of the rogue god who wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
“Shite, Fiona. What are we going to do?” Ian’s rough voice pulled her back from the edge.
She drew in a ragged breath. She had to get it together. “You’re partners with Logan. I know it. Contact him. Ask for his connection, the Mythean who bartered his deal with the god.”
Ian said nothing.
“Doona screw with me, Ian. There’s no way Logan knew to bring you in here unless you were friends.”
“Fine. We were. But he’s gone. I’ve no way to get in touch with him.”
The severity of his voice convinced her. Damn it. She tried to shove her panic aside as her mind scrambled for options. “I’m calling Lea. She might recognize his description. We have to know what afterworld he went to.”
“Gods, it could be any of them. There’s no way to know if he’s native to the afterworld he just went to.”
Her heart thudded sickeningly. Ian was right. But it was their only shot. She yanked her cell out of her pocket and dialed Lea. Her words tumbled over themselves as she described the demon.
“Damn,” Lea said. “You went in alone.”
“Of course I did. What did you expect?”
Lea sighed. “That you would. And thank gods for it. The university has just gotten together a team to send out in an hour, but they’d have been too late. I’m going to have to do some research to identify that demon.”
“We doona have that kind of time.”
“I know! But we don’t have a choice, because I don’t recognize the demon you’re talking about. I’m going to get everyone on it. And we have to find someone who can get us to whatever afterworld it was taken to.”
Shite. She was right. Certain Mytheans could aetherwalk, but not many of them had free access to all the afterworlds. Very, very few did. It’d take time to find someone who could get them there. Too much time.
“We’re coming there,” Fiona said.
“Good. It won’t take long to get the word out. The council will be together by the time you get here.”
The council. The ones who’d demoted her and stripped her of her position when she’d failed to find the book. Her shoulders tensed.
Fuck it. It didn’t matter, not in the face of all this.
She mashed the End button and struggled to her feet. “We’ve got to get to the university.”
“Aye.”
They were able to exit via the alley door on the first floor, allowing them to avoid the charmed exhibits. Fiona didn’t know if she could face them in her condition, and Ian was still limping. Thank gods the police were gone from the alley. The dark concealed their bloodstained clothes as they crossed the street toward the flat.
It took only minutes to retrieve the car keys and their possessions. There’d be no reason to come back here. Once they’d replaced their blood-splattered clothes with clean ones, she approached Ian with the collar and snapped it about his neck before he could stop her.
“Really?” he asked.
She nodded, her chest feeling tight. “The council will need to see that you’re wearing it.”
He frowned, but beneath the annoyance she swore—hoped—she saw understanding.
“How’s your arm?” she asked as they descended the stairs to street level.
“Healing.”
She nodded. He’d torn up a shirt and tied it around his arm. If it was still a problem when they got to the university, they’d have a healer look at it. She wouldn’t mind having her hip and stomach gashes looked at. The wounds wouldn’t kill her, but a bandage would be nice.
They slipped into her hatchback and took off through Edinburgh. It was after midnight and the streets had quieted.
Fiona was vibrating with tension by the time they drove through the university gates. She’d hoped to return through these gates with the book in hand, fate proven, sanity saved, and her old job won back. She was returning a failure. A true Failte.
Her lips tightened. Not for long.
She parked her car beneath the same tree she’d put it under when she’d sprung Ian from prison. She climbed out and looked over the roof at him.
“I’ll see to it they doona put you back in that cell,” she said. They’d be going back into the Praesidium, the same building that housed the prison in the basement. Lea’s office happened to be in on the first floor.
He nodded, his lips tight and his eyes doubtful. Her heart sank, because though she’d fight to keep him out, her power didn’t extend that far. But they didn’t have a choice about going into the Praesidium. They had to get the book back.
They crossed the cobblestone lot and climbed the expansive stairs to the looming stone building. A chill raced over her skin as they walked into the atrium. The glass ceiling soared above the gleaming wooden floor.
“Doona worry about Lea,” Fiona said as they walked down the hall. “She’s going to look like a ghost, but she’s no’. And she’s harmless.”
“What is she?”
“I doona know. She’s just fading. It might have something to do with the fact that she never leaves her office. It’s a library that she had expanded into a suite, but she hasn’t left in at least a hundred years. Maybe longer. She’s the best at what she does, though. She knows everything there is about Mythean history, or where to find it. And she’s one of the top ranking officials.”
“Good thing she’s on our side,” he said when they reached a wooden door.
“Exactly.” Fiona knocked.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ian followed Fiona into the library office.
“Fio
na, that was quick,” said a pretty, but transparent, woman. She turned to him. “You must be Ian.”
“I am.” He didn’t offer his hand for fear of offending her if she couldn’t take it.
She gestured to a table surrounded by a dozen chairs. All were occupied, though he recognized no one. Towering bookshelves loomed behind them. He and Fiona took seats next to each other. Her expression had turned to stone.
At the end of the table sat a disgruntled-looking man who glared at Fiona. Fiona’s boss, no doubt.
Lea sat. “We’re here to discuss the matter of the Book of Worlds.”
“Damn straight we are,” said the man who Ian had assumed to be Fiona’s boss. “You were out of line, Fiona! You’re no longer an Acquirer, and you had no business being in that museum.”
“Without her, you’d have no idea who took the book,” Ian said.
Fiona shot him a look that said thank you, but be quiet.
“He’s right, Darrence,” Fiona said. “It’s my fate to find it. I have to find it. I’m the only lead we have on the book, and I’m sure as hell going to retrieve it.”
“You’re in trouble. And as for you, Ian MacKenzie. Don’t think I don’t recognize you. You’re going to be back in that cell before you can blink. You’re a—”
“Enough.” Lea shot Darrence a quelling look. “We have more important problems. Rest assured, the prisoner will be sent back. But we must address the issue of the rogue god.”
Ian’s stomach lurched at the mention of being sent back to that hellhole. There was no way he’d let that happen. Fiona caught his eye and frowned. Darrence grunted but quieted, his look promising retribution.
“Did you identify which afterworld the demon went to?” Fiona asked.
“I did.” A blond woman leaned forward. She sat at one head of the table, across from Lea. Her skin emitted a faint glow. “I’m Aerten, Celtic goddess of fate and leader of the Praesidium. And from the description you gave of the demon’s tattoos, I think I know who stole the book. His tattoos indicate that he’s a minion of Carthe, a god from one of the pantheons that started the Divine War that led to the creation of the covenant thousands of years ago. You recall the stories of the war?”