Page 11 of Discovered Magic
“A portal.” Castor’s tone was as grim as his expression. “Fuck, I hate portals.”
“They’re bad?”
“You watch movies, Thorne. Ever see where one led to anything good?”
The urge to laugh was weirdly strong, but Wilder suppressed it. In the short time he’d come to know Abbie’s father, he understood where her sarcastic humor and unstoppable drive originated.
“She’s alive, sir,” he told Castor. “I feel it.”
“I’m counting on your feeling.” Castor’s determined, ice-blue eyes settled on him. Lifting a vial wrapped in a piece of paper, he tucked it into Wilder’s shirt pocket, then sealed the material with a finger across the open seam. “I’ve concocted a foolproof spell to get you back here. And no matter what happens on the other side of that door, you find her and get her out of there. Got it?”
“You’re not sounding too optimistic about your chances.” Wilder touched his bulky pocket.
“I’m a survivor, so don’t worry about me. But my goal is for you and my daughter to return here in one piece.”
“Sweet, because it’s my goal, too,” he assured the Traveler.
A wry smile curled Castor’s lips as he drew back his long, white-blond hair and tied it in a ponytail. “Be prepared for anything and utilize your magic if you have to.”
Wilder nodded, facing the pulsing portal with determination. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Abbie’s coming home.”
“Thanks to this gateway, you won’t need to be in spirit form. But keep hold of my hand until I tell you, Thorne. Traveling is an art form, and if you misstep in time, no one is going to save you.”
“Noted.”
Castor paused long enough to capture his attention.
“What is it?” Wilder asked.
“It’s been two years. We may not find what you’re hoping for. You need to be prepared for that possibility.”
His throat tightened, and his voice was gruff when he asked, “Do you believe she’s dead? Is that why you’re warning me?”
“No.” Castor looked pained. “I’m not sure why I am, truthfully. Maybe I’m preparing myself, too.”
“You have the blood-to-blood location spell handy?”
He tapped his temple and grinned. “I memorized it years ago to find Quentin when needed. It’ll work for Abbie when the time comes.”
“Good. Let’s go.” Wilder braced himself.
The Traveler’s grip was ironclad. If they got separated, it wouldn’t be because of him. Just as they were about to step through, the blue light flickered and dimmed, causing Castor to tug him back.
“Shit!”
“What? What’s going on?” he asked.
“It’s not stable. I need something to shore it up.”
“Like what?”
“Give me a damn minute to think,” Castor snapped.
Patience used to be a plentiful commodity in Wilder’s world. Yet in this moment, he had a harder time staying calm as Abbie’s father paced, stopped to study the portal, and then resumed his nervous activity. Finally, with fingers laced behind his head, he stared at the wavering opening.
The longer Castor contemplated the gateway to Abbie’s world, the more Wilder’s control gave way to his building anxiety.
“It’s fading. What do we do?” he asked.
