A Very Levet Christmas (Guardians of Eternity)

“We can’t let this happen.”


“We?” The gray eyes widened, the delicate wings fluttering in obvious agitation. “I have done nothing but attempt to halt your reckless quest.”

Damon clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to give the gargoyle a good shake. The tiny bastard was right.

Damon had no one to blame but himself.

“Fine. I can’t let this happen,” he said between clenched teeth. “And you have to help me.”

The gargoyle was shaking his head before Damon stopped speaking. “I told you; I do not possess enough power to defeat the magic of a demon lord.”

Damon growled. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. His gaze shifted to the slender piece of wood sputtering tiny sparks that Levet clutched in his hands.

“Then use the damned wand,” Damon commanded.

“This?” Levet scowled. “But we do not know what it would do.”

Damon shook his head in disbelief. The Weres were facing genocide and the stupid gargoyle was worried about something bad happening?

“What can it hurt?”

Levet’s eyes widened, as if he were astonished by the simple question. “What could it hurt?” He clicked his tongue. “Mon Dieu. You know nothing of magic. It could destroy us all.”

“Give it to me,” Damon snarled, reaching for the wand. The Weres were going to die unless he did something.

“Non. Do not.” Levet scampered backward, ridiculously smacking Damon with the slender wand.

Damon barely felt the blow against his forearm, but before he could pluck the magical stick from the gargoyle, the mist abruptly thickened, and once again they were being whisked through the darkness.

Shit.

How much worse could it get?

Not at all anxious to find out, Damon struggled to keep his balance as he felt his feet land against the frozen ground.

This time there was no gradual clearing of the mist that surrounded them.

One second it was there, and the next it was gone.

Warily, Damon glanced around the moonlit field coated in newly fallen snow before shifting his attention toward the distant river that looked vaguely familiar.

“What have you done?” he snapped, braced for whatever might be coming.

Levet turned in a slow circle, his tail stuck straight out behind him. “I have brought us back to where we started.”

The creature sounded as unnerved as Damon felt, but after slowly counting to a hundred he finally accepted that he wasn’t going to be forced to endure yet another out-of-body experience.

Immediately his attention turned toward the golden artifact that remained warm against the palm of his hand.

“There has to be a way to destroy the medallion,” he snarled.

Levet grimaced, his expression troubled as if he had been struck by an unpleasant thought. “In the past the demon lord attempted to use Salvatore’s blood to gain entry into this world.”

Damon glanced down at his naked body, belatedly realizing that his various wounds had yet to fully heal. A sickening horror jolted through him.

“It’s feeding off my blood?”

The gargoyle gave a slow nod. “I believe so.”

Damon didn’t bother to try and toss the medallion away. Or even to demand to be taken to a healer. He understood that now that the magic had been awakened by his blood, there would be no stopping it.

Not until the fuel it was feeding on was destroyed beyond repair.

“Then there is only one solution,” Damon said, more to himself than to the creature who watched him with a wary gray gaze.

Falling to his knees, Damon clutched the medallion tightly in his hand, trying his best to clear his mind.

He had no practical knowledge of how to call on the Telos. Weres didn’t teach their children how to commit suicide. But it had to be like any other natural instinct.

Or at least, he hoped to God it was.

Focusing first on the destruction that was about to be unleashed, Damon slowly allowed himself to visualize himself kneeling in the snow. He was still naked. Still coated in blood from his wounds. Then he imagined a fire being lit deep in his soul.

It wasn’t a normal fire.

It was a cleansing fire.

A fire that would consume him utterly and completely.

Just as it had his mother.

“What are you doing?” Levet demanded as Damon felt a trickle of sweat inch down his bent spine.

“Ending this,” he muttered.

A searing heat began to spread through his bloodstream, making the snow steam where it touched his legs.

Levet sucked in a sharp breath. “Non.”

The heat continued to spread, the pain swiftly threatening to become unbearable.

With an effort Damon lifted his head, needing to pass along one last message.