Chapter Fourteen
Anthony stepped out of the portal and into his library with a sense of relief. It didn’t matter how many times he traveled through dimensions, he never became used to the sense of electricity dancing over his skin.
And it only made it worse that after leaving Chicago he’d forced Yiant to take him to a private sanitarium in Amsterdam to visit the woman who was his current wife. It was a duty he forced himself to perform despite his annoyance with Clarice. He’d chosen her from one of the finest families in Dublin, using her standing among society to elevate his career in politics. Who knew she would be such an ill-bred bitch, snooping through his things and having him followed until she’d discovered he was using fairy potions to keep himself from aging.
His first thought was to kill her.
She wouldn’t be the first or last wife he’d had to get rid of.
But then he realized that after a suitable time of mourning he would once again be expected to remarry.
It was far better to keep the one he had . . . only slightly modified.
With one burst of power he’d crushed her mind, leaving her locked in a deep coma. Then he’d placed her in a distant hospital. Unfortunately he had to make the occasional visit to keep his in-laws from complaining.
Now he walked straight across the library to pour himself a large glass of whiskey. He needed something to rid himself of the stench of antiseptic and fading flowers.
“Wait.” Draining the fiery liquid in one gulp, he abruptly turned his head as he heard the unmistakable sound of retreating footsteps. He glowered at the fairy who was clearly attempting to slip away unnoticed. “Where are you going?”
Yiant licked his dry lips. “I must return to my Court. It is a feast day.”
Anthony rolled his eyes. “Every day is some ridiculous feast day among the fey.”
“Traditions are important to us.”
“Not as important as keeping me happy,” he reminded the fool.
Yiant looked petulant as he straightened the thick folds of his elaborate robe. “What do you want of me?”
“I need you to remain here for the next few days.”
“Why?”
Anthony leaned against the edge of his desk. “I might need to travel.”
“What of my people?”
“They’ll no doubt survive without you sitting on the throne and basking in your own importance,” he mocked.
The fairy visibly restrained his temper. A wise choice. Anthony was at the end of his considerable patience.
“I will at least need a few changes of clothing.”
Anthony swiveled to touch a button that was hidden beneath the lip of his desktop. There was a faint creak, then a hidden door slid open to reveal a narrow staircase.
“I’m sure Keeley left his belongings behind. Feel free to use whatever you want. He won’t be needing them.”
Yiant grimaced, but the reminder that Anthony had just destroyed the imp who’d been locked in Styx’s dungeons, had him grudgingly heading toward the secret passageway.
“As you command.”
Waiting until the door closed behind the fairy, Anthony left the library and headed down to the tunnels hidden beneath his estate.
Halting at a thick, wooden door, he carefully unwrapped the layers of protective magic. It took nearly half an hour before he was able to enter his inner sanctum, and another half hour before he was safely sealed inside.
Only then did he light the candles that revealed the vast, cavernous room.
Dug deep into the limestone, it was larger than a football field and in the center was a ring of standing stones. Towering nearly a hundred feet high, they were precisely spaced with lintel stones that connected them at the top.
Even at a distance Anthony could feel the power that radiated from the circle. He smiled as he moved forward, intoxicated by the pulses of energy.
This was the true magic.
A mystic power that came from the earth.
Nothing at all like the vile, unholy powers that the demons used.
Such toxic magic had to be purged from the world, along with the creatures who spread their infection among humanity like a disease.
Stepping between the stones, he entered the circle. He grimaced as he realized the usual sense of peace that entered him in this place had faded since his last visit. For centuries the powers of the druids had been used to create harmony. It wasn’t intended to become a weapon.
An unfortunate sacrifice necessary for the greater good, he assured himself, stepping to the center of the limestone floor where he’d placed his wooden altar where a small fire was burning.
Anthony offered a small prayer before he was peering into the dancing flames.
There was no heat, no sound from the fire. It simply floated above the altar, feeding off the spell he’d cast months ago.
Leaning forward, he opened his senses, allowing the magic to seep deep inside him.