The only problem about waiting for an “infiltration setup”? Lila might be leaving herself vulnerable to the archer— Two women materialized on the path not ten feet from her. Loreans.
One had black hair; the other was a redhead. Both were gorgeous. They wore Sorceri garb—metal bustiers, heavy gold jewelry pieces, and claw-tipped gauntlets.
Had one of them clawed the pathway railing to produce that screech? To spook me? It was working. Lila had no powers to defend herself; her only asset was her speed.
They stood in front of a shimmering portal. On the other side was a huge stone keep. Silken material lay pooled on the floor, as if the Sorceri had tossed it through the rift.
Wait . . . that was Lila’s pink chemise! How had they gotten it from her apartment?
The redhead raised one gauntlet, rapping her claws together. In a sinister voice, she said, “This is the part where you run.”
On it! Lila whirled around, her full skirts whipping from the movement, and darted away.
Sorceri couldn’t trace—teleport—and could never outrun a fey like Lila. If she could reach a group of mortals, the pair would back off.
Her updo came undone. Were her ears visible? She swatted her hair off her face.
Midstride, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. Lost them! Just over a footbridge was a ramp to the main park. She could already hear guests laughing— Her stomach lurched, her feet suddenly above her head. She was tumbling down an embankment. How? She’d never seen . . .
SPLAT.
She landed face-first in a shallow retention pond. Spitting mud, she scrambled to get free, but the muck sucked off her shoes and coated her gown.
The Sorceri strolled to the bridge, laughing as if this was all good-natured fun. The black-haired one said, “Good one, sis. Making the path appear to move. Didn’t you pull a similar illusion when you crashed Rydstrom’s car?”
The redhead chuckled. “It never fails. Why do people always think what they see is real?”
They’d distorted Lila’s vision! She clawed at the embankment, but her bare feet caught in her skirts like spinning tires. She fell on her face again.
Ugh! Swiping filth from her eyes, she snapped, “You’ll do this with security cameras around? Have you lost your minds?”
“Of course not,” the redhead said. “I’ve made this all invisible.”
Just as Lila got loose and tensed to flee, the black-haired female said, “Climb to this bridge, fey. Come stand in front of us. Without making another sound.” Her words were laden with sorcery! A mind-controller? Lila fought to repel the command but found herself climbing toward the Sorceri.
When she stood before the two females, the black-haired one said, “I’m Melanthe. This is my sister, Sabine.”
Sabine created an illusion out of thin air of a girl who looked exactly like . . . Lila. “I’d say this fey is our bounty.”
The infiltration! They were about to put her in Abyssian’s castle. Sooner rather than later, N?x?
Sabine erased her illusion. “We’ve caught ourselves Hell’s Most Wanted.”
“So here’s the situation,” Melanthe said to Lila. “My beloved husband, Thronos, and I are the rulers of the Vrekener clan. I’m sure you’ve heard of us.”
Vrekeners were winged demons, fanatical about morality. Angel lore was based on them. What was a sorceress doing as their queen?
“Well, Thronos and I kind of trespassed in Pandemonia. A scoch. I’d call it trespassing-ish. And we might’ve brought to hell an entire population of angels. Ish.” Melanthe continued, “But if I turn you over to Abyssian Infernas for a bounty, then he probably won’t unleash his demon legions to destroy my people.” She placed one hand protectively over her belly. “So you are going to be our ace in the hole. As a matter of fact, let’s just call you Ace from now on.”
Sabine said, “We’re about to cash in on you, Ace.”
“Nothing personal.” At Lila’s ear, Melanthe added, “By the way, N?x had a final message for you: Never trust a Valkyrie. Now, sleepwalk, Ace.”
Lila resisted, but sleep overtook her.
FIVE
Sian could perceive any entry into—or exit from—Pandemonia. A portal had opened, in his own throne room no less. Kari’s scent emanated from there.
He traced to the room. A pink garment lay on the floor. He snatched up the tiny piece, shuddering at the silk against his palm. The chemise was similar to the shift he’d once stolen from her.
Was this a jest? He turned to face the portal. Dropped his jaw. On the other side, in some distant realm, was . . . his mate.
Though mud covered her, Sian could tell her fine-boned features and full lips were the same. Which meant she would be breathtaking when not filthy.
Eyes closed—would they be mismatched again?—she stood motionless between two Sorceri females. Was she bespelled?
The black-haired sorceress pressed one claw from her gloves against Kari’s jugular. Most likely a poisoned tip. The Sorceri were known toxinians. Some poisons could kill even an immortal.
Sian grated, “You have my attention.” He eased closer to the portal. Damn it, a one-direction rift. He couldn’t simply snatch Kari.
He tried to read the Sorceri’s thoughts, but the females had blocks in place. “Who are you?” He probed Kari’s mind as well, yet even in this stupor, she maintained her own blocks.
The black-haired female gazed up at him, and a tremor passed over her, no doubt at Sian’s horrifying appearance. “I’m Melanthe, queen of the Vrekeners. And this is my sister, Sabine, queen of Rothkalina.” The redhead gave a careless wave.
“You have a lot of bloody nerve contacting me.” The Vrekeners were the ones who’d invaded his realm! He’d get to that soon enough. For now, his eyes couldn’t stray from Kari.
The tips of her pointed ears poked out from her mane of damp brown hair. So she was fey once more. As before, she stood a little over five feet. Her mud-coated dress revealed the same willowy figure.
He hadn’t expected a replica.
When he realized he was gripping that pink chemise, he used magic to make it disappear to his chambers. “What is wrong with your captive?”