by Linsey Hall
Disorientation slammed into me.
Strong hands gripped my shoulders and I blinked, clearing my vision. Roarke supported me, leaning down until his gaze was close to mine. Concern was clear in his eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I nodded, slightly woozy.
“Sorry, I should have warned you. I don’t often take people through Underpaths.”
“It’s cool.” I pulled back and glanced around.
Patrons were crowded around little tables in a windowless bar that looked like it’d last been decorated during Henry VIII’s reign. The Hanged Man was in Plymouth, a bustling harbor town on southwest England’s coast and the country’s biggest supernatural city. None of the patrons—many of whom sported horns or wings—spared us a glance.
“Was this built on a graveyard, too?” I asked.
“No, it’s haunted.”
Where the dead reside. “You come through here often?” I gestured to the revelers. “These guys don’t seem to think it’s weird that you popped out of nowhere.”
He looked up, his gaze meeting mine. “No. But the Underpath entrances are enchanted to obscure activity. They sense we’re here, but an enchantment keeps them from really noticing us.”
“Nice.” I stepped back, shaking off the effects of Roarke and the Underpath. “Lead the way. Melly should be pulling up any minute.”
Roarke nodded and turned, weaving through the crowd and walking up a short flight of steps to the main part of the bar. It was just as small and cramped as the bottom floor, but somehow looked even older.
A ghostly silver figure peeked out from behind a wooden beam that supported the ceiling. She was wearing an old-fashioned dress and a lacy cap. Her gaze met mine and she waved.
“Roarke.” I tugged at the back of his shirt. “Do you see the woman over there? The silver one?”
He glanced over, his gaze searching. “There are no women over there.”
Uh, yeah there were. But I didn’t want to make this weirder. The girl smiled.
“Can you see ghosts?” Roarke asked.
“Must be my imagination.”
Most supernaturals couldn’t see ghosts. I never had before. But if this was another unexplained power involving death, I didn’t want to share it with Roarke.
Roarke turned, his gaze sharp. “You sure?”
I nodded, probably too enthusiastically. “Yep. Just woozy from the Underpath.”
He didn’t look like he bought it, so I said, “Our ride is waiting.”
He gave me one last suspicious look, then led the way out of the bar.
I followed him out onto a narrow cobbled street. The buildings rising on all sides were made of dark timber and white plaster, the kind of Tudor construction that I always associated with England. We were definitely in the old part of town.
I squinted against the bright sun that hovered overhead.
Roarke gestured to the left. “This way.”
I followed him down the narrow street, onto a wider thoroughfare that had just enough room for one lane of cars. A bright green mini screeched to a halt in front of us, and a pretty, dark-haired woman rolled down the window.
“Del! And Mr. Death!” she said.
“Melly!” I hugged her through the window. “Good to see you.”
“Wouldn’t miss a chance to see you. Hop in.”
I glanced at Roarke, who was about as big as Melly’s tiny car. There was no way he’d fit in the back. “You can have the front.”
“Thanks.” He grinned wryly at me.
As I climbed into Melly’s car, I had to move aside a pile of weapons to make a little space for myself.
“Just shove that stuff over,” she said. She was a telepath, so she preferred a good pair of daggers when hunting down a demon.
The familiar scent of Melly’s magic drifted to the backseat. The smell of lilacs and the taste of honey. Lovely, and as strong as I remembered, which was good. Hopefully it’d cover my own signature as I tried to locate the demon using my dragon sense.
Melly zipped into traffic, driving along a large bay filled with sailboats. We were on the left side of the road, which was disorienting, especially since Melly drove like a bat out of hell. Every time I thought she’d hit a light post or another car, she zipped nimbly around. I’d have bet she had killer aim with her daggers, too.
“You’re still hell on wheels, Melly,” I said.
“Only way to get around. Now where are we off to?” Melly asked.
“Give me a sec, and I’ll let you know.” Now that we were closer, I could get a better feel for the demon’s location.
I closed my eyes and called on my dragon sense, careful to keep my magic contained. I’d practiced that a lot in my life, trying to hide what I was. Now that I was more used to Roarke—though honestly, I’d never be truly used to him—it was easier to do.
After a moment, the familiar sense tugged at my middle. Fortunately, it didn’t seem as if the demon had moved since I’d last checked. “North. Near the coast.”
“North it is,” Melly said and put her foot on the gas.
“This is it,” Melly said as she pulled the car to a stop on a quiet road. We’d been driving for hours, sometimes through moorland, sometimes on narrow roads surrounded by hedges. “Tintagel castle.”
I peered out the window at the winding path that led up the craggy hill on the coast. “This is where King Arthur lived?”
“So they say,” Melly said. “Though no one has been there in years. Haunted.”
Excellent. Just what I’d been hoping for. “How so? Ghosts or what?”
“No one’s seen any ghosts that I know of. But some ancient places protect themselves.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
“Thank you, Melly.” Roarke climbed out of the car. “We’ll call you if we need a lift.”
I followed, turning back to Melly.
“Thanks.” I waved and she sped off, her little car bumping down the narrow road back to the village.
“Why would the Ubilaz demon be here?”
I turned at the sound of Roarke’s voice. The wind whipped at his dark hair and shirt while the setting sun illuminated his fallen-angel face.
I scowled at my stupid poetry. What was this guy doing to me?
“Honestly, I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a weird place.”
We were on a high cliff overlooking the sea. A path led upward toward the castle ruins, which I could just make out ahead.
“There’s nothing here.”
“Maybe that’s the point.” I reached up to touch the hilt of the sword that was strapped over my back, a habit when I was feeling uneasy. “Let’s go. It’s getting dark.”
Roarke nodded and turned, starting up the path. I hurried to join him, keeping pace with him as we climbed. Every now and again, I’d catch a glimpse of the sea and the setting sun.
“This silence is eerie,” I muttered.
Roarke grinned. “Good thing you broke it.”
“I try to be helpful.” I smiled up at him, then slammed straight into an invisible wall.
“Ouch!” I reached up and rubbed my nose, then peered forward. “There’s nothing there.”
Roarke reached out and pressed his hand flat against something. “Magical barrier.”
I frowned. There’d be a way around, but it would take time to find. “I wonder if there’s a way to break the enchantment.”
“There is.” Roarke’s magic swelled, hitting my senses with the scent of sandalwood and the taste of wine. My head went a bit woozy, it was so strong.
He drew his fist back and slammed it into the invisible wall. Brilliant white lines, like cracks in glass, radiated out from his fist as the enchantment crumbled.
“Whoa.” Tentatively, I reached my hand out. It passed right through where the barrier had been. “How’d you do that?”
He shrugged. “Same way I break through to the Underpath. I can disrupt the ether, which destroys this kind of prote
ctive barrier.”
“So you can break through enchantments.”
“Some enchantments. Mostly just protective spells that are placed upon the ether.”
“Whatever the case, it’s handy.” I eyed him appreciatively. Not only was he all kinds of brute strength, but he could break through ether itself. Talk about a useful skill. “You ever need a job, you can come work for Ancient Magic. It’d sure be easy to get into protected tombs and temples with you around.”
He grinned. “That’s a kind offer, but I’ve got a job.”
“Oh, yeah.” I frowned. I hadn’t forgotten, but the joking had been nice. “Boss of the Underworld.”
“Something like that.” He glanced up at the sky, which was now a dusky gray as the sun dipped below the horizon. “Let’s get a move on. Night’s falling.”
I nodded and followed him up the path. Or at least what I thought was the path. It was overgrown with grass. “Apparently not many people get past that barrier.”
“No. It was a strong one.”
Like you. I kept my mouth closed for once, though.
We hadn’t made it very far when the earth started to tremble beneath my feet. It was a subtle vibration, but enough to be worrisome.
“You feel that?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Roarke’s sharp gaze traveled the landscape. “We’ve triggered something.”
Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet dipped away, surging like a wave. A tsunami of earth to my left rose up, a gaping maw of dirt and grass. I lunged to the side as it crashed down, but didn’t make it far enough. The earth enveloped me, sucking me down into the dirt.
Instinctively, I shrieked, but my mouth filled with soil. I choked on the foul stuff, trying desperately to claw my way free. But the dirt was so heavy that I couldn’t move my arms. Panic made my mind buzz and my chest feel hollow.
Buried alive.
How deep in the earth was I? With a frantic burst of strength, I tried one more time to claw my way free.
Nothing.
And I couldn’t hear Roarke. Air was running out. Alone. I was alone.
But not helpless.
No way I was going to die again and go back to the Underworld. I called on my magic, envisioning turning blue and transparent. I needed my Phantom form now more than ever. There was no way to know if it could get me out of this, but I had to try.
Chilly magic tingled through my limbs as they grew weightless. I couldn’t see, but I felt it when I’d fully adopted my other form. I directed myself upward through the dirt, passing effortlessly through it. When the crown of my head broke through the last layer of earth above and I felt cool air on my forehead, I forced myself to turn back to human so that Roarke wouldn’t see me pop out of the dirt in the wrong form.
The panic returned immediately, but I shoved it aside and clawed my way free. I was close enough to the surface that the dirt wasn’t too heavy, but I felt like a freaking zombie as I crawled out of the ground and sprawled on my back, gasping.
I glanced around, searching for Roarke, but saw only the quiet expanse of night. The ground even looked normal, as if the wave of earth had devoured us and returned to business as usual.
I scrambled up, calling, “Roarke!”
But he was nowhere to be seen. My heart thundered, and my skin chilled.
To my left, something burst from the earth in a massive explosion, shooting into the sky. Dirt flew everywhere. I stumbled to my knees, pushed by a massive wind. When I could finally look up, my jaw dropped.
A dark figure shot high into the air, propelled by huge wings. It looked human—mostly. In the moonlight, all I could make out was a dark gray form and dark wings that would shame an angel’s.
Roarke?
“Whoa.” I watched as he returned gracefully to the ground, getting a better look at his demon form. He was bigger than he had been—probably over seven feet tall—and his skin and wings were a dark, silvery gray.
He had no horns, but black claws tipped his fingers. His features had changed too, turning almost leonine, and his eyes were a pitch black with no whites. His shirt had disappeared, no doubt blasted away by his wings, but his pants had stayed on. His muscles were all harsh lines and obvious strength, like some kind of crazy Olympic swimmer.
Wow. Even in his demon form, he was hot.
“Uh, hi,” I said.
He grinned, giving me a peek of bright white teeth, then a black mist swirled around him like a mini tornado. A moment later, he’d shifted back to his human form. His shirt had returned, as clothing did when a powerful Were shifted. But I could still see the demon in him, in his strength and dark eyes, even though the whites had returned.
He was one scary dude in his demon form. And pretty dang scary in this form too.
He stalked toward me, concern in his gaze. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” I brushed dirt from my hair and shook out my shirt. “Clawed my way free.”
His brow creased. “How? I had to shift to even move the dirt. No way you were strong enough.”
“Um, don’t underestimate me.” Also, don’t ask too many questions. “Speaking of shifting, are you what humans were thinking of when they came up with the legend of Lucifer?”
Because it fit. Fallen angel looks, massive wings, incredible power. Boss of the Underworld.
“Too young. And I’m not the devil.”
No, he wasn’t. If he’d been evil, I’d have felt it in his magic. Especially when he shifted. But I’d felt nothing except his usual magical signatures. And those were pretty nice, actually. Powerful, but nice.
“Do you know what kind of Were your non-demon parent was?” I asked. Because it had to be something crazy if he had wings. A demon/Were pairing was a weird one.
“No.” He glanced around, clearly not wanting to discuss his parentage.
I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t know who my parents were either, and I wasn’t usually keen to chat about that.
“We should get moving. I don’t know what else is coming at us.”
“Okay.”
We headed up the path, silence cloaking us, but I couldn’t help but glance at him occasionally. Weirdly, I felt a kinship with him. We both had strange, unknown parentage and had scary, death-related alternate forms. Demon-angel dude meets ghosty-Phantom girl.
The stuff dreams were made of.
The sun had fully set by the time we neared the broken walls of the castle. Fortunately, we hadn’t run into any more enchantments.
“Melly said this place was built in the thirteenth century,” I said. And it looked it, with tumbled-down walls made of massive blocks of stone. The shadows cast by the wall were eerie patches of blackness. But it was the magic that was oddest.
“Feel that?” I whispered.
“No.”
I glanced at him. “Really? I feel some crazy strong magic.”
It prickled against my skin like sand blowing on the wind. Ahead of us, the air shimmered, obscuring the walls.
I didn’t want to go through the castle grounds. Something was off there, but we had to go. My dragon sense pulled toward the castle, which was built on a tiny strip of land that connected to a larger piece out in the sea. The castle crouched on the bridge of land, protecting the little island from intruders. Or it would have when it wasn’t in ruins.
There was no going around, only through.
“Let’s head in.” I started toward the empty archway where there would have once been a massive wooden door.
The interior of the castle was as eerie as the outside, with shadows and tumbled-down stone everywhere. Moonlight gave it a creepy look.
Magic hummed against my skin, but so did something else. Something almost…alive. I rubbed my arms with my hands and considered drawing my sword just for the comfort of holding it.
My dragon sense directed me toward the right side of the castle where the sea crashed against the cliff wall. We’d been climbing steadily upward to reach the fortifications, and now that we were
here, it was clear how well-built the castle had been.
“This is great land for defense.” Wind whipped my hair back from my face.
“It was.” Roarke gazed out at the sea, which was a dense black in the moonlight. Cliffs marched into the distance, rising steeply from the ocean.
He turned to me. His eyes widened. “Get away from there!”
The urgency in his voice made me jump. Instinct took over, propelling me toward him. I glanced back. A strange shimmering glow extended out from where I’d stood. It crept along the ground, turning it from grass into cobblestone.
“What the hell?”
The glow crept up the castle wall, faster and faster. As it traveled, the wall grew, rebuilding itself from ruins. No longer were the walls tumbled down and broken. Now they rose high, soaring into the dark night sky. The empty archway that had permitted us entrance was now covered by a massive wooden gate.
“The castle is coming alive,” Roarke said. “You tripped an enchantment.”
An oinking sound echoed in the dark night. A pig? I searched the courtyard until I caught sight of a pig sty against the castle wall. Four fat pigs all stared at me, their black eyes glinting in the moonlight. Their scent rolled across the courtyard, all too real.
But what hit me next was worse. Magical signatures of all varieties. Not just the castle’s latent magic that I’d felt when we’d approached, but the signatures of many magical beings. Were they coming alive like the pigs had?
Unease shivered along my skin.
A shout sounded behind us and I whirled. A man had appeared. His back was turned to us, and he was yelling at a young boy who was carrying a basket. Torches flared to life all around, lighting up the castle courtyard. The air shimmered as more figures appeared.
“Hide!” I hissed and dove behind a pile of barrels near the wall.
Roarke followed, but not before shouts lit up the night.
I reached for one of Connor’s potion bombs when I glanced up at the castle wall, just in time to see two bright green objects dropping from the sky. I dodged, but one of them hit me on the shoulder and exploded in a cloud of green dust.
My mind went foggy. I swayed on my feet, blinking rapidly. Through hazy vision, I saw Roarke collapse to the ground like a great oak tree. His hair was coated in a dusty green color.