Blaise turned around slowly in a way that said he was using his dragon-sight to feel the aether. “Well, this wasn’t what I had planned.”
“What?” Urian’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You weren’t wanting a trip to Halloween Town? I’m so disappointed, Blaise. Was hoping to get my Jack Skellington underwear signed.”
Falcyn scratched at his whiskered cheek. “So how’d we get here?”
“Not sure. I was aiming for the parlor of the Peltier house.” Blaise screwed his face up. “Epic fail. Not even sure where we are.”
Urian let out a long, tired breath as he surveyed the twisted landscape. “I think I know. But you’re not going to like it. I sure as hell don’t.”
Medea pursed her lips. “Try us.”
Urian glanced around at a place where he hadn’t been since his marriage to Sheba. Gods, he hoped he was wrong. But yeah, this looked like the realm Ruyn used to party in for shits and giggles. “Myrkheim.”
Blaise made an expression of exaggerated happiness. “Oh goody! The borderlands where heathens go to rot! Just where I wanted to build my vacation home! Where’s a lease? Sign my scaly ass up!”
Medea rolled her eyes. “What’s Myrkheim?”
Falcyn laughed bitterly. “Guess the Daimons don’t spend a lot of time here as it’s not really part of your mythology. It’s a nether realm. A holding ground if you will, between the land of light and dark where the fey can practice their magick.”
“Whose feyfolk?” she pressed.
Legitimate question, Urian supposed, as there was a lot of fey in the world to go around.
Falcyn sighed. “At one time, everyone’s. But nowadays, it’s mostly reserved for Morgen’s rejects. And some other IBS-suffering bastards.”
“Yeah, okay … So what’s the—” Before she could finish her sentence a bolt of light shot between them, narrowly missing her.
In fact, it only missed her because Falcyn deflected it. “Stray magick. You have to keep your head up for it. If it hits you, there’s no telling what it might do. Could vaporize you. Turn you into a toad. Or just ruin your chances for children.”
Which was why Ruyn liked to play here. Bastard lived to play dangerously.
Medea’s eyes widened as she watched it explode and morph a tree not far from them into a chicken that screeched, then dove under the ground to burrow like a frightened rabbit. “That happen a lot?”
Falcyn nodded. “’Round here? Good bit.”
“Great. Anything else I should watch out for?”
“Yeah,” he said bitterly. “Everything.”
Blinking, she met Urian’s gaze. “Joke?”
“Falcyn has no measurable sense of humor. At least none that we’ve identified to date.”
Blaise braided his long white hair and secured it with a leather tie he’d unwound from his wrist. “Well, Max said that Falcyn wasn’t always the pain in the ass we know him as. But I can only speak about the last few hundred years. And he hasn’t changed as long as I’ve known him.”
“Not helping, Blaise,” Urian said drily.
He spread his arms wide to indicate their surroundings. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not real good at that. Tend to fuck up all things whenever I try to help.”
“And Merlin chose you for a Grail knight. What the hell was she thinking?”
Blaise hissed. “We don’t talk about that out loud, Falcyn! Sheez! What? You trying to get me killed?”
Falcyn shot a blast of fire at the sky. “Still trying to figure out how we got here … and why. ’Cause let’s face it, we didn’t get sent here for anything good.”
“Was hoping you wouldn’t notice that.” Blaise cleared his throat. “Way to harsh my zen, dude.”
Falcyn rolled his eyes at Blaise. “You need to stop hanging out with Savitar. I hate that bastard.”
“You hate everyone,” Blaise reminded him.
“That surfboard-wielding bastard I hate most of all.”
Blaise arched an inquisitive brow. “More than brother Max?”
Falcyn growled. “Are we going to argue inconsequentials or look for a way home? ’Cause I just tried my powers and they didn’t do shit for getting us out of here.”
Cringing, Blaise rubbed nervously at his neck. “Mine either, and I was hoping to keep you distracted so that you wouldn’t beat my ass over this situation.”
Falcyn glanced to Urian. “What about you, Princess Pea? You got anything?”
“Besides a throbbing migraine? No. My teleportation isn’t cooperating either.”
They all looked at Medea.
“Really? If mine were working do you think I’d be here, listening to the lot of you? Promise, I’d have vanished long ago.”
Blaise sighed. “I think I saw this movie once. It didn’t go well for the people as they turned on each other and it involved chain saws … and a whole lot of blood.”
“But was there silence? That’s the real question.”
Urian snorted at Falcyn’s irritable comment.
Worse?
There was sudden silence. It echoed around them with that eerie kind of stillness that set every nerve ending on edge. The kind that radiated with malevolence because it was a portent.
The men drew together to stand with their backs to each other so that they could face and fight whatever threat was coming for them.
Suddenly, a bright light flashed near them. One that momentarily blinded Urian with its intensity. The mist solidified into a tall, lanky male with brown hair and red eyes.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me …
“Don’t you ever die?” Urian asked as he saw the demon Kessar.
How many times were they going to kill this bastard and have him come back?
Raking a sneer over the demon dressed in black-on-black designer snobbery, Falcyn glanced to Urian. “So, Slim, who is this designer asshole?”
The demon quirked a grin at Falcyn’s question. “That’s Mr. Asshole to you, dragon.”
“Sure, punkin. Whatever floats your shit.”
Medea poked Falcyn on the shoulder before she rose up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “You might not want to antagonize him.”
“Says the woman who knows me not at all. Trust me. I’ve pissed down the throats of monsters that make this posh-boy look even lamer than what he is. On my scared-o-meter, he doesn’t even move the needle.”
Kessar smiled grudgingly. “Which is why you’ve held your dragonstone longer than any other dragon in history. Now be a good boy, hand it over.”
Falcyn snorted derisively as he raked a less-than-impressed stare over him. “Uh … hell to the no.”
A slow smile spread over Kessar’s chiseled features but didn’t quite reach his red eyes. “Give us the stone and I’ll tell you how to save your sister.”
Urian froze at those words. While it was true that the dragons had dozens of siblings, there was only one sister he knew they actually cared about.
The same one he did.
“My sister’s dead. And if you pull a Narishka on me, I swear, demon, I’ll eat your heart for lunch and burp it for dessert.”
“I don’t know what Narishka did, but your sister was turned to stone. So while she’s not technically living, she’s not exactly dead, either.”
“Blaise? Did you know about this?”
“No. I was told she went down fighting against Morgen.”
Urian listened intently. Were they or were they not talking about Xyn?
Medea placed her hand on Falcyn’s forearm in a comforting gesture before she leaned against his back. “Kessar is a treacherous bastard. Don’t trust him. He wouldn’t know the truth if it bit his furry little ass off.”
She was right about that. It could be a trick.
Urian held his breath.
Falcyn curled his lip. “So posh-boy’s the gallu leader the Sumerian gods turned against. Bet that ruined your day, huh?”
Kessar sneered. “You should know, son of Lilith.”