Page 28 of Risen
“Stay behind me, fae,” I bit out, pushing my emotions down deep as I hurried to catch up to Robin, but lingering a bit apart from her and the others.My alpha needed me—but what she needed most was someone to protect her hoard while she reclaimed what was hers.
I jerked my head toward Ruya, Cicely, then Josh.“You three stay out of the way and stick close to me.”
Sadavir came to flank us, giving me a nod that said no one would be harmed on his watch.Good.Squaring my shoulders, I tried to put the fallen naga’s lifeless gaze from my mind and focus on the task at hand.
Chapter 13
Dusek
Thestairwaytothesecond floor consisted of several small flights of stairs that led to broad landings before turning and ascending again, creating a twisting spiral of broad, flat planes.The place had undoubtedly been altered over the years to fit the syndicate’s needs.On the second floor, what had once been a half-wall separating the ballroom from the stairs with a series of open arches on top had been turned into a solid wall.It closed off the space, and a massive set of double doors carved with intricate, ugly faces barred our way.
Beneath the mild wear it had gained over the decades, the whole place was decorated with a golden age whimsy that was jarring in the current situation, art deco mixing with an Aztec temple theme.Blocks of stone were carved with Aztec art—depicting faces and creatures painted in bright colors that had barely faded over the century since they were created, thanks to the preservation spell on the place.
The building had been grand once.I could almost taste the ghosts of laughter and music, their joy mixing with the stale, dusty air of the present, tainted by the heaviness of being occupied by the syndicate.Sanka and the curse breaker waited for us at the top of the stairs, where they both strained under the burden of combining their unique magics and holding onto the spell that blocked the emperor’s ability to portal out of here.
I could taste the acrid tang of the emperor’s power in the air—a foul sensation of wrongness that was probably caused by the stolen nature of the power he called his own.He had stitched his barricades into the bones of the building, layer on layer, until the plaster itself shed a faint cloud of dust when Sanka poked at the doors with his magic.
The wards on the massive double doors shimmered faintly to my second sight, and I could feel them—pressure against my teeth, an itch in the back of my skull.Defenses that wanted to crawl inside you and convince you to leave.The emperor’s magic wanted to burrow inside us and make us feel small and powerless.But this was one of the reasons the man standing beside Sanka took no name other than “curse breaker,” and why he was here with us tonight, his magic bolstering Sanka’s.
His kind prided themselves on not having an identity.It wasn’t just an affectation, but a deep practice that affected their psyche and their magic—names had power, and so did egos and identities.The emperor couldn’t fight back against the curse breaker as well as he might have with another magic user.I could sense the curse breaker’s magic twisting in a taunting dance, deftly avoiding the teeth of the emperor’s wards and protections as he kept up the sabotage on the portal.And combining his magic with Sanka’s made our sorcerer invulnerable as well.
I smiled as I shook off the cloying effects of the emperor’s magic myself.The stolen magic was nothing compared to the horrors inside me.
Martina crouched by the frame of the doors, grimacing.She didn’t have the depth of magical perception that the casters among us had, but she had to be feeling the repulsive clamor of the wards just the same.She pushed her beast back, and reverted to human form, holding a knife that she pressed flat against the glowing seam between the doors.“They’re keyed to blood,” she muttered.“Not ours, thank fuck.”
“Not his either,” Sanka replied, scowling.“He’s pulling strength from the dead.”He held up a finger and let a drop of his own blood hiss against the tile.The ward flared, rejected it, then snarled with a renewed surge of angry energy.“See?”
Great.A dash of necromancy thrown in on top of all the other nasty shit the emperor was involved in.
As we all let that sink in, Josh shifted uneasily, moving closer to Sadavir.As if he expected one of us to suggest we usehisblood.As if we might think being a vampire close enough to dead.As if we’d only see him as a tool to be used.
His hands twitched at his sides, and I frowned.The beta was wrestling with so many demons.But there wasn’t time to comfort him now.Surely, he knew he was one of the court.And we didn’t turn on our family.Sadavir stood solid behind him, a wall of silence, eyes fixed on the shimmer of the wards.No, no one would be bleeding Josh today.
It seemed absurd that we had just engaged in that bloody battle below, had worked for so long to get to this moment, and had the emperor trapped here, only to be stymied by a wall and some wards.
Yukio paced, snowflakes shedding from his wings and the tiles beneath his feet icing over.His breath clouded the air even though the room was warm.Cicely leaned against a cracked pillar, head bowed, his calm spilling out like silk—quiet, steady, meant to keep the edges from fraying before this new fight even began.
Ruya stood with Robin near the doors.Robin’s aura blazed brighter than the wards, her fire pressing up against them, testing.I felt it lick across my skin, even though I was several feet away.Ruya lifted a hand and planted it on Robin’s low back, and I felt the magic she exuded, trying to bolster our alpha, to keep her together when this last obstacle might drive her mad.
“I think I’ve got it,” Sanka finally muttered as he traced his blunt fingers along the doorframe.“Just give me a sec and I’ll be through.”His magic flared, adding to the background hum of the spell he was already maintaining as he started to drill through the emperor’s ward.
I was poised, ready to spring into action, and I felt the others shift around me, tension ratcheting up as we waited for Sanka to work his magic.
The air shifted.
Not the wards.Not the emperor.This was something else.Some other sickly, warped magic that shouldn’t exist.My head snapped to the side, tracking a whisper of sound that didn’t belong.A murmur crawled through the walls, low and wrong.My shadows twitched, uncoiling under my skin.
“They’re here,” I hissed.
No one asked who.They felt it too, a second later—the sudden cold rush, the stench of rotted blood and sulfur, the scrape of chanting against the bones of the building.It was just like before, at The Fox.Witch magic, but corrupted and carrying a hint of demon.
The fucking cult.
The external wards flared, but they broke through.A heartbeat later, we were surrounded.
They poured from the mirrors lining the cracked plaster walls, from the glossy metal fixtures of the art deco wall sconces and the glittering chandelier, as if every shiny surface was a portal, hooded, chanting, their auras blackened with corruption.Some wore masks shaped like crescents, or robes embroidered with the triple moon, but others had carved the symbol directly into their skin.Their voices tangled into one ugly sound, sharp enough to splinter thought.
The naga warriors with us hissed, drawing their blades.The griffins spread their wings, feathers brushing the walls, talons gouging the tile.
