Page 92 of Discovered Magic
“My pardon for offending you, Exalted One,” he choked out. “It will not happen again.”
“Rise.”
When they were once again face-to-face, Zeus placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are a worthy mate for the daughter of my line, but she must be the one to save herself and earn her place as a Traveler. Do you understand?”
“She’s facing an Arcane Devourer. A force not even the Aether could defeat alone in our time.”
“The fated trials of who we select are not yours to question, child. It is faith in your mate you must have.”
“If anyone can come through your trials, it’s Abbie,” he replied with a confidence Alex himself didn’t feel.
Respect and an emotion similar to approval lit Zeus’s eyes.
“You will do.” The God then approached Draven. “The Fates have stolen much from you. But you, too, shall prevail.”
“You will do.” The God then approached Draven. “The Fates have stolen much from you. But you, too, shall prevail.”
Before Alex could form the words to ask what the hell he was talking about, the Quentin lookalike was before him, slamming the heel of his hand into Alex’s dislocated shoulder.
The sheer agony took him out.
29
PRESENT DAY
“What the bloody hell do you mean they went back in time?” Damian demanded. The four-person group winced as a whole, and he dialed back his anger. It wasn’t their fault, but he’d damn well give Castor a tongue lashing when the fool returned.
And it wasn’t as if he didn’t know it had happened. Hell, the memories were merging faster than he could process them. But he didn’t have to love it.
He met the individual gaze of everyone present—Laszlo, Ebba, Ronan, and Alastair—before saying, “I apologize.”
“Papa?”
He shifted to acknowledge his disobedient daughter.
“Hello, Beastie. I see you’ve once again ignored my request to stay home in order to poke your nose into adult business.” There was no real heat in his words, and likely never would be. Sabrina was willful, and making her behave was next to impossible.
She grinned, and her pixieish visage morphed into pure deviltry. Whenever she got that look, he was reminded of a young Alex. Though polar opposite in appearance, they both loved to push the limits and, along with it, Damian’s buttons.
“What was so terribly urgent you needed to follow me?”
“Uncle Alex. He’s without his magic.”
Damian hung his head, recalling that significant detail as the new memory formed. And wasn’t it just his luck? He pinched the bridge of his nose. The struggle to overcome his fear was great. Yes, Alex was as resourceful as a London alley cat, but without the ability to manipulate time or heal himself, he was at great risk.
“Well, here’s another nice mess you’ve gotten me into, Ollie,” he muttered.
“Quoting Laurel and Hardy, Dethridge? How droll,” Alastair said with a chuckle. “Definitely fitting for our wayward friend, I’d say.”
“Did you know he was going back?”
“Not until it was done.” With a disapproving glance at Laszlo, he crossed the sidebar and poured himself a scotch. “Anyone else care to join me?”
Sabrina lit up. “I?—”
“Not a chance, Beastie,” Damian cut in, forestalling her. With ping-ponging warning glares between his best friends, he said, “Put the word out, I’ll murder anyone who gives in to her wheedling.”
“Sure, and the wee beastie doesn’t need our help to get into trouble, Dethridge,” replied Ronan O’Connor, Guardian of his children and Sabrina particularly. For a man standing at six-and-a-half feet, he was the biggest pushover known to humankind. One pleading look from her, and Ronan was putty in her tiny hands.
