Cyn felt a strange chill shoot down his spine. Styx was right. He couldn’t pinpoint why this felt so freakishly familiar, but suddenly he was certain that he’d either heard or read or been told of another spell that offered a similar annihilation.
“Aye. I know what you mean.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. The icy sense of premonition had settled like a heavy ball of dread in the pit of his stomach. “I need to return to the library. Maybe there’s something in the history of the fey that can help us.”
There was the crisp scent of champagne before Fallon shoved open the door and stepped inside. Her chin was still tilted to a militant angle as she crossed the room and dropped two bags of blood onto his lap.
“Here.”
He offered her a rueful smile. Hard to believe that he’d once considered himself an expert in pleasing a woman.
“Thanks.”
She sniffed, spinning as if prepared to head back out the door. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
“Wait,” Styx commanded.
She hesitated, her rigid body revealing she desperately wanted to tell the King of Vampires to go to hell. But, of course, she didn’t. She’d been trained to play the gracious lady. Only Cyn was allowed to see the fiercely independent woman beneath the glossy fa?ade.
The knowledge of that sent a blaze of satisfaction through him.
Turning back, she met Styx’s dark gaze with a wary expression. “Yes?”
Styx pointed toward the bowls that continued to flicker with a dozen separate images. “I don’t claim to be an expert on scrying, but I’ve never heard of anyone being able to use them as a weapon.”
She wrapped her hands around her waist, as if assuming Styx was blaming her for the attack on Cyn.
“Neither have I,” she snapped. “Certainly no human should have the power to connect to my magic.”
Styx studied her with a gaze that could make grown men piss their pants. “You’re certain he wasn’t fey?”
“Ask the clan chief.” She shot Cyn a dark glare. “He’s the one who was convinced the attacker was a human male.”
Having drained the two bags of blood, Cyn rose to his feet, relieved when his legs held his weight. His strength was rapidly returning, but he wasn’t fully recovered. That bastard magic-user. He was going to pay for attacking him.
For now, however, his only concern was mending the breech with Fallon.
Stepping forward, he took her hands in his, gazing down at her wounded eyes. “Truce, princess,” he murmured softly. “I promise you can tell me what a huge jackass I am later.”
Her lips pursed, but seeming to realize she was overreacting to his refusal to take her blood, she heaved a resigned sigh.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Jackass.”
Cyn hid his smile as he turned back to Styx, keeping one of Fallon’s hands tightly clenched in his.
“He was a human,” he assured his Anasso, trying his best to recall what had happened before he’d been hit by the bolt of magic. “He looked like he was sneaking through the back tunnels of the Commission’s lair and then he halted as if he could sense us watching him. A second later . . . he hit me with his damn spell.”
Styx scowled. Cyn knew his king well enough to realize the older vampire didn’t like mysteries. Or the Commission. Or strangers attacking his people.
“Do you think he’s part of the conspiracy to close the dimensions?” Styx asked.
“Aye,” Cyn swiftly answered. “It’s too much of a coincidence for him not to be involved.”
Styx nodded. “Agreed.”
Cyn grimaced. “The question now is how do we discover who he is?”
“I’m more interested in how to protect you,” Styx said, his gaze moving to Fallon. “No more snooping on the Commission.”
Cyn felt Fallon flinch at the direct command, but this time she didn’t allow her ingrained manners to overcome what she believed to be right.
“That’s not your decision to make,” she informed the towering warrior.
Styx narrowed his gaze. “Are you trying to get Cyn killed?”
Fallon refused to bend, but Cyn didn’t miss her tiny step closer to him. A step that pleased the hell out of him.
“I’m trying to halt a looming genocide,” she said.
“She’s right, Styx,” Cyn swiftly agreed. “As much as I want to put a halt to this, we can’t risk the Oracles being under the compulsion of some unknown enemy.”
Styx studied them with a speculative expression, silently considering their options.
It didn’t take long.
They didn’t have enough information to do anything but follow Siljar’s orders. Not when they risked making matters worse.
“What do you need from me?” Styx demanded.
“For now . . .” Cyn forgot what he was going to say as the rich scent of aged whiskey threaded its way through the air. “What the hell?”
“Magnus,” Fallon said, the word so low he barely heard it.
“The fairy prince?” Cyn growled even as there was a weird prickle of energy that brushed over his skin.
At the same time, a tall man with a long mane of shocking red hair appeared in the center of the room.