The protective charm flared with magical light the moment it touched the liquid. As it sank down toward the bottom of the glass, it illuminated minuscule black streaks wriggling through the liquid, like living things. Worms, perhaps.
He lifted the glass and stared at them, trying to discern what they were. There was no way to know, without a lab and a series of tests. In different circumstances, he would have taken the drink home to study, using crystals and magical inscriptions to neutralize whatever was inside. But there was no time for that now. For the moment, there was nothing he could do.
Whatever these things were, they were certainly foul. Most likely, they were put in there on purpose. And now they were inside everyone who had had a drink.
Including him. The thought nauseated him.
Were these things magical? Toxic? Fatal?
Had Rane had any?
That thought pierced through him like a sword of ice. He hurled the drink against the rocky wall, hearing it smash in the darkness as he spun on his heel and marched out onto the dance floor.
Now he didn’t give a damn about stealth. As if sensing the intensity of his fury, the crowd parted around him. Here and there, a few eyes flashed with recognition. Luckily for them, they stayed out of his way.
Rane was more or less where he had left her, still dancing in a way that would have mesmerized him, if his mind wasn’t awash with the need to make sure she was safe. And if she wasn’t dancing with some cretin in a wolf mask who apparently had an inordinate obsession with pumping iron at the gym.
As Rane danced, she scanned the crowd, her brass visor flashing beneath the lights. Alert. On guard. She saw him coming and deliberately turned her back on him.
Salem came up behind her and grabbed her elbow. “Have you had anything to drink?”
She jerked her arm away. “None of your business, dude. Don’t be a creep.”
“Hey. Is this guy bothering you?” the wolf said through his mask. His testosterone-fueled aggression might have been much more impressive if it hadn’t sounded as if he were talking through a paper bag.
Salem looked him up and down, unable to hide his disdain. Clearly, the man was underestimating both of them. Salem didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he said to Rane, “Are we going to do this the easy way, or do you get some kind of perverse pleasure out of making me repeat myself?” He waited expectantly. “Have you had even one sip?”
Her gaze traveled down his chest. He had forgotten to tuck the protective amulet back inside his shirt. As he hid it away, her eyes flashed with understanding. She folded her arms, biceps flexing, her mouth set in a thin line. “Why, what’s up with the drinks? Start talking.”
With her, everything was unnecessarily difficult. “It’s a simple question. Did you or didn’t you?”
“Hey,” the wolf said to him. “You notice we’re trying to dance here?”
Salem kept his gaze locked on Rane.
She blew a breath out of the corner of her mouth, having some kind of lengthy internal debate. “Are you sleeping with Ember?”
His patience evaporated. Anger and frustration rose up inside him until his pulse thudded in his ears. “I swear, woman, if you don’t . . .”
She smiled tightly, waiting.
Despite the fuzziness in his brain, he got his temper back under control. “No,” he said through his gritted teeth.
“Huh. Cool. Well, my body is a temple, so you can relax. No drinking tonight. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Relief flooded through Salem. So she was safe, at least. One box checked off of tonight’s list.
But for him, and everyone else in here, the clock was ticking. Toward what, he didn’t know. He needed to find out.
“Hey,” the wolf said, edging past Rane to loom over him. “Something you want to say to me?”
Salem finally spared him a look. “The drinks are spiked. There are no judges for the contest. This masquerade is an elaborate trap. You’re probably going to die.”
The wolf pulled back. “What?”
Salem turned to Rane. “Where are your friends?”
Through the visor, she squinted at him a little, the way she always did when she was trying to figure him out. As if it were merely a matter of proper eye focus.
Meanwhile, the wolf apparently decided to ignore his warning and instead waved him along with a thumb, like a hitchhiker. “Time to go, man. Just move along.”
Of all the sorcerers in this vast chamber, why had Rane chosen this one to dance with? He didn’t seem like her type, except for the obvious obsession with athletic equipment, as evidenced by the size of his muscles.
Then the answer hit him, and Salem mentally cursed himself.
Of course, Rane wasn’t really interested in dancing with this buffoon. It was merely a distraction. To draw him away from the sliding door, so Dru could get inside. Where she clearly didn’t belong.
Why hadn’t he seen that before? Such a transparent ploy. The spiked drink was clearly affecting his judgment.
As painful as it was to contemplate, he needed to go retrieve Dru before she could find Greyson. He turned on his heel and headed for the secret door.
If that shopkeeper found him before Salem did, she would foul everything up. Greyson was the key to doomsday, and that made him the world’s biggest threat.
But Dru didn’t seem to care about that. If she had her way, everybody would be sitting in a circle playing bongos and trading friendship bracelets. That was the difference between him and Dru, he decided. While she was trying to make peace, he was committed to doing whatever it took to save the world.
Too many times, he had watched her tie herself in knots trying to save people from their own stupidity, or prevent any collateral damage. But that was the nature of magic. It hurt you. It used you up and discarded you, until it left you as nothing but a burned-out shell that could only crave more.
Sometimes, magic could change the world. Or, in this case, destroy it. The Harbingers had unleashed the power of the apocalypse scroll decades ago, and it was too bad for Greyson that he’d ended up caught in the cross fire.
But now, as one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the man was full to the brim with doomsday power. As long as he was roaming around free in his speed demon-powered car, then the apocalypse was still in play. The clock was ticking down to doomsday.
Salem couldn’t allow that.
That was why he had broken into Greyson’s house originally, looking for him, but all he had found was an undead creature lurking in the darkness. That had started all of this. Now, Salem still hadn’t found Greyson. But he was getting closer.
He didn’t absolutely have to kill Greyson, he supposed, if there was some other way to neutralize the threat. But so far, none of his research had turned up any alternatives. When the time came, Salem would do whatever was necessary, no matter how distasteful. Greyson had to be taken out.
That was why Dru couldn’t be allowed to call the shots. She would try to stop him, if she knew his plan. But with the fate of the world hanging in the balance, there was no room to indulge her hand-holding, feel-good ways.
He had to stop this. Now. The door was just ahead now.
Just before he got there, Rane passed him with long, purposeful strides, her clingy gold lamé dress shimmering in the dance lights. The wolf was nowhere to be seen.
Salem squelched his surprise. Joining forces with him was the smartest thing Rane could do right now, obviously. There was no one else here tonight whom he could trust to cover his back. He was just secretly pleased that Rane had reached the same conclusion.
He wondered, fleetingly, if that was the sort of thinking that always prompted Dru to call him arrogant. What did it really matter, as long as he was proven right in the end?
Rane ducked her head inside the doorway, scanned the darkness, and then turned to survey the crowded chamber behind them. “We need to warn Opal. She’s been drinking. So has Ruiz. What’s going to happen to them?”
Rane nodded. “Okay. First, let’s get Opal.”
Salem tried not to roll his eyes. That woman lacked any magical powers at all. What could she possibly do, aside from wandering in and making everything needlessly complicated?
Apparently, that little item wasn’t glaringly obvious to Rane, so he deflected it. “Don’t worry about her,” he said calmly. “Opal is busy enjoying the party. Such as it is. Meanwhile, you and I can track down your BFF before she makes things worse.”
Rane pushed the visor up to reveal her fierce eyes. “She’s not making things worse. She’s on an important mission. Which is more than I can say about you. You want to accomplish something tonight? Stop sneaking around being all jealous-y.”
“Please.” He stripped off his mask and tossed it over his shoulder, glad to be done with the party. “Jealous? Hardly.”
“Yeah, right. You were pretty freaking jealous out there. Admit it.”
“Admitting anything is not my style.” Staring up into her beautiful blue eyes, so fiery with energy, he suddenly didn’t care what words came out of her lips. As long as they were spoken to him. Now that he had her all alone, had her full attention, he remembered how intoxicating it was to be the focus of all that raw, physical power. He’d missed it so deeply it left an ache inside him.
Rane waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to you. Ready? Let’s go.”
He snapped his gaze away from her and peered into the dark metal stairwell, trying to ignore the distracting fact that she was standing so close to him. “Any idea what’s down there?”
“Thought that was your job,” she said. “I’m just here to get my freak on.”
“Some things never change.” Salem dug in the pocket of his long coat until his fingers closed on the bumpy shape of his skull-encrusted Zippo. He flipped the lid open and struck the wheel, chasing away the nearest shadows with the light of the flame.
Inside the stifling webbing, Dru shifted her grip on the dagger-shaped shard of spectrolite. Taking a deep breath, she focused all of her remaining magical power on the crystal, willing it to flare to life and cut her loose.
Nothing happened.
Confused, she tried again. She steadied her breathing, focused her thoughts, and willed energy to flow into the crystal.
Still nothing.
The sour taste of panic rose in the back of Dru’s throat. She really was trapped after all.
She tried once again to charge the spectrolite, but it was no use. The webs had some sort of narcotic effect, sucking the magical energy out of her like a sponge. She had nothing left, except fear.
Any moment, Titus would return and drug her. She had no way to escape.
Violently, she fought against the cocoon, twisting one way and then the other, straining her muscles harder than she ever had in yoga class. Fat lot of good those classes were doing now, she thought.
All of her thrashing did nothing but roll her off the bench like a dropped burrito. She landed hard on the stone floor.
“Ow.” Shaking her head, she peered around as best she could, looking for anything to help her escape. Then she noticed the vein of raw white quartz running up the side of the granite wall over the bench.
Quartz. The most common purifying crystal in the world.
In the shop, Dru used clear quartz crystals to purify just about anything. The clearer the crystal, generally the more powerful its effect. Milky quartz—clouded up by impurities when it formed millions of years ago—was considered junk for magical purposes.
But a sizable raw vein of quartz, undisturbed within the mountain, might be enough to help her cleanse away the narcotic effects of the cocoon. Which could give her a chance to charge up the spectrolite blade and cut herself loose.
But only if she could reach the quartz in the first place.
Breathing hard, Dru inch-wormed her way across the floor. She grunted with the effort of every undignified heave, until at last she reached the wall.
She stared up at the jagged vein of quartz. How could she touch it? Her arms were wrapped up.
No amount of wriggling got her any closer. Frustrated, she wedged the toes of her wrapped-up boots under the end of the heavy bench and tried to slide her back up the wall.
The exposed quartz was only a couple of feet over her head, but it might as well have been a mile away.
She stiffened her spine, straining to reach her cheek or forehead up to the quartz. Her entire body trembled with the effort, stretching every inch she could.
It still wasn’t enough to make contact.
Tears of frustration burned in her eyes. This was all her fault. Everyone had warned her not to come here—Opal, Rane, even Salem—and still she had pushed blindly forward. Once again, she was in too deep. And all of her friends were in danger. Because of her.
Right now they could already be captured, or injured, or worse. And it was all her fault.
There was no one left to help her.
Not even Greyson.
She desperately missed his presence. The way he made her question everything she knew about magic, and about herself, and come up with better answers. The way he made her think not just about what she was doing, but why. He made her a better version of herself.
He had to be trapped somewhere under this mountain, and he needed her now more than ever. She couldn’t give up. She had to find a way to get to him.
She wasn’t going to die here. And she wasn’t going to let Titus carry out his plans.
Not today. Not now.
Gathering her last bit of strength, she bunched her toes inside her boots and pressed hard, gaining a fraction of an inch with each push. She could feel the cool air coming off the wall, tickling the hairs of the top of her head.
Her shimmering go-go boots, anchored by the webs and the weight of the bench, started to give up their grip on her feet. Inside the leather, she pushed with her tiptoes.
One final effort and she covered the last inch. The skin of her temple brushed up against the rough surface of the quartz.
The moment she made contact, she focused all of her thoughts on connecting to it. Eyes squeezed shut, she reached out for its ancient energy. When she finally made contact, she discovered it was much more powerful than she expected.
The magical energy flowed through her head and down into her body like a stream of ice-cold meltwater pounding down a mountainside. She gasped at its sudden intensity. Her eyes flew open, and everything in the room looked brighter.
The vein of quartz, hidden within the depths of the living rock, had to be immense. Bigger than any crystal she had ever touched before. Her mouth filled with a gritty tingle. A metallic whine stung her ears. Her scalp prickled as her hair lifted up.
Inside the cocoon, a flickering rainbow glow began to shine through the webs. The spectrolite came to life in her palms, lit up from within by a primal energy that she couldn’t contain.
She pushed, and the glowing tip of the crystal pierced through the cocoon of webs. Arms tingling, she sliced her way out. Frantically, she tore off the webs, leaving sparkling sequins behind in the sticky hollow of the cocoon. Finally free, she stamped her go-go boots to get the blood flowing into her feet again.
She looked around for some kind of tool to break loose a chunk of quartz from the wall. But there was nothing handy, and she didn’t have time to dig through the plastic-wrapped furniture to find something she could use.
With the gritty remains of the mountain’s energy trembling through her, she ducked out the orange door and checked to make sure that the tunnel was empty. Then she ran for all she was worth, clutching the still-glowing spectrolite blade.
She was going to find Greyson, she swore to herself, and save the world.
Or die trying.
30
LONG, COOL WOMAN
Beyond the sliding door, nothi
ng moved but the flickering glow from Salem’s lighter. It fell on bare metal stairs with circle-punched treads that led down into the darkness. Above, a few caged bulbs shone a feeble glow.
Salem peered down the shadowy metal staircase. Rust stains and decades of accumulated dust greeted him. “Lovely. Your friend Dru gets lost in the most glamorous places.” He looked over his shoulder at Rane, intending to say more. But being this close to her, her familiar face softened by the light of the flame, made him forget what he was going to say.
Rane scowled back at him. “What now?”
Realizing she had caught him staring, he shrugged to cover it. “Since we’re in a danger zone, I thought you would have transformed by now. But maybe it’s casual day at the office?”
“You do your job. Don’t tell me how to do mine.” Rane laid one large hand on the worn handrail. With an echoing metallic ringing sound, her arm and then her entire body transformed into dark, cloudy steel.
With clanging footsteps, she marched past him down the stairs. “Let’s go, Zippo boy.”
He watched her go, endlessly fascinating by her long, lean body, even in metal. As she clanged across the landing and down the next flight of metal steps, he sighed. So much for the stealthy approach.
By the time they had descended several flights, his ears were ringing. He was about to suggest that she turn human again when they reached a rusty steel door stenciled with a yellow alphanumeric code.
Rane stopped marching and grunted in a way that Salem knew meant she’d found something. In the blissful silence that followed, he knelt at her feet, where a single silver sequin winked up at them from the textured metal floor. Carefully, he picked it up and held it near the light of the flame.
“Dru came this way,” Rane said, her flat voice echoing. “That’s from her dress.”
“Or an equally stylish undead creature.”
“Oh, was that a joke?” Rane asked in mock disbelief as he stood up. “Or did you just call Dru stylish? I don’t know which is weirder.”
A Kiss Before Doomsday Page 24