“My mate.”
“Ah, the Halfling.”
How did Asher know what Maggie was? Suspicion rode him, but Gideon pushed it aside. He’d deal with that all later. Right now, he just needed to get Maggie back safe and sound.
“The vortex, Asher,” he snapped impatiently. “Can you trace it?”
“A vortex, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you try to follow it back to the origins?”
“Yeah, Mikhail did, but he said there’s too much interference. And I tried to jump into it right after them, but it snapped shut before I could get inside.”
“Hmm.”
“That all you got?” Gideon demanded, growing more desperate by the second.
“Where?”
Gideon gave him the coordinates, not caring that he’d just willingly revealed the location of his home to one of the most dangerous, sketchiest demons Hell had ever spat out.
Before Gideon could end the call, Asher appeared a few feet away.
“I think Mortika? may be involved,” Gideon began, but Asher held his hand up to silence them. He began pacing through the area, scowling in concentration, just as Mikhail had.
Gideon held his breath, aware everyone else present was doing the same. At length, Asher stopped on the exact spot the portal had opened up.
He stood, utterly still, arms out, palms up, face turned to the sky for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he turned to Xander and Gideon, his expression grim.
“Mortika? might be involved as you suspect, I can’t say, but he doesn’t have the power to open a vortex. Especially not one this powerful, and not one on protected land.”
“Then who?” Xander snarled.
Asher’s gaze went back and forth between Gideon and Xander. Gideon could see the gleam in the mercenary’s eyes, but he didn’t care. He’d pay any price to get Maggie back. And he knew Xander would do the same for Kyanna.
“The one who took your mates will make a fierce enemy.” He paused, as if considering how much it would cost for him to burn that bridge.
“Who is it?” Niklas pressed.
Asher met his steady gaze dead on. “Ash?ek.”
“He was already our enemy,” Niklas pointed out. “Or rather, Sebastian’s. That bastard’s had a hard-on for Sebastian since day one. Won’t be happy till Sebastian’s head is mounted and hanging on the wall of his trophy room.”
“Yes,” Asher replied. “Well, he wasn’t my enemy. And if I help you, he will be.”
“Can you find the origins of the vortex or not?” Xander hissed, clearly out of patience.
“I already have.” Asher considered them in turn. “How badly do you want them back?”
“Anything,” Gideon whispered hoarsely. “I’ll do anything to get her back, promise anything.”
“I don’t have to ask about you, do I?” Asher remarked with a sly grin, turning to Xander.
“In a heartbeat,” Xander said anyway.
“State your terms,” Asher prompted, all business now.
“Take us to our mates,” Gideon blurted. He had to get to Maggie, had to make sure she was okay. From his peripheral vision, he saw Xander nod agreement.
Asher’s eyes turned pure bottomless black; not a speck of white remained. An ancient, aged scroll appeared before Gideon. A blood contract. An identical scroll appeared in front of Xander.
“My terms now. Someday, I’m gonna ask a favor of you. From both of you. This will be your second, Xander. You’re both gonna give me exactly what I want, no qualifications. No questions asked.”
A heavy silence fell over the group. Niklas and Xander both glanced warily at each other. Mikhail’s frown deepened. Gideon had always wondered why the mercenary had never tried to collect on the outrageous contracts Lucifer had taken out on the Fallen.
Now, he understood.
Asher was collecting debts. And whatever he intended to cash them in on was far bigger than anything he stood to gain by currying favor with the Dark Prince.
Gideon was too worried about Maggie to care. Conjuring a dagger, he slashed his palm and slapped his bloody handprint to the ancient parchment. From the corner of his eye, he saw Xander do the same.
“Agreed,” they echoed in unison.
The ancient parchment absorbed the blood, sucking it up like a living thing, then vanished.
“Take us to our mates,” Gideon demanded once more.
“Just remember what you’ve bargained for,” Asher said, and his smile made Gideon’s blood turn to ice in his veins.
“Master,” the Charocté called from the dungeon hallway.
Stolas growled low in his throat at the interruption. The red-haired Halfling flopped limply beneath him. He’d had her but a week, and already she’d lost her spirit. “I told you I didn’t want to be bothered,” he roared, glaring over his shoulder toward the door.
“Apologies, master. But Dimiezlo insisted you would want to know.”
Cursing, Stolas rose from the pallet on the floor, the Halfling he’d been mating forgotten. He conjured himself clean and shimmered straight to the Great Hall. Dimiezlo was waiting.