We stepped into the circle as the noble took a spot in the very center, which was free of any design. He closed his eyes, opened his palms, and the symbols around his feet began to glow. He lifted his hands, pulling the light from the symbols higher and higher until it covered us. The ends of my hair lifted. Every fine hair on my body rose as though we were standing in the middle of a flat field in a lightning storm. The light grew so bright, I shielded my eyes, experienced a second of weightlessness, and then the light dimmed and the hum of power diminished.
The first thing I noticed was the air. It was cooler and cleaner, smelling less of tar and dirt. The sounds of Telmath were but an echo, a dim reminder in this quiet place. I opened my eyes to see we were no longer on the ledge at the terminal but standing in an enormous stone plaza flanked by colossal stone bdings.
The City of Two Houses.
The circle was just inside of the main gate. Twelve feet thick, three stories high, and built from one enormous slab of rock. The noble ushered us out of the circle. The plaza was several blocks in size and four main roads branched off from this centralized area. Regal, official-looking buildings claimed the prime real estate around us, and off the far end of the courtyard was a ramp that led to a building of black marble with a pair of thick pylons framing a tall rectangular opening. Like a temple straight out of ancient Mesopotamia.
There were palaces, temples, and beautiful outdoor spaces all crammed onto the plateau. The size, scope, and grandeur caused a shiver to scatter down my spine. The insignificance it inspired was nothing short of severe.
I drew in a deep breath, focusing on my purpose rather than feeling like the fish out of water that I was.
“Wait here.”
I turned to see the noble once again close his eyes, open his palms, pull the light from the ground.
Then in a bright flash he was gone—no doubt back to the terminal—leaving us alone.
A few figures crossed the plaza and came and went from buildings.
“How long do we have to wait this time?” Rex said with a groan.
“Not long at all,” came a voice embedded in my memory.
A slight tingle crept down my spine.
Oh yes, two months might have passed, but I remembered that voice well. The raven-haired noble who had lit a fire under my ass, made me angry enough with those words to fight back, one who had taken my kid to safety while I killed his political opponent and brought darkness to the city of Atlanta.
His voice breezed through my head, amused … intrigued. I turned, slamming a hard block over my mind and putting a smart look on my face. “Carreg.”
He leaned casually against the rock wall behind us, arms folded over his chest, in a crisp white shirt and loose black pants that pooled at his feet. Some sort of medallion hung from a chain around his neck, no doubt exclaiming his station as a royal and Lord Lieutenant of the House of Astarot. It looked official anyway.
His full lips curled with a hint of amusement, and his classic, angular features were wrapped in smooth olive skin and a deceptively calm demeanor. A satin-black eyebrow lifted. I caught sight of those unique irises—midnight blue shot with silver flecks, like stars in an inky night sky.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit … Detective?” He pushed off the wall as his words slid through his lips like the purr of a predatory cat. The calm he exuded was not the easygoing, friendly type—it was of one who knows his power, his strength, the pull he has over others. One who knows his abilities are without question.
“We need to get inside, to see the Abaddon Father. Look, I know this is going to sound insane, but his life is in danger and my sister, Bryn …” Oh hell, the whole thing sounded crazy to me, so I could only imagine how this was going to sound to Carreg. But I drew in a deep breath and continued. “She’s being controlled by the spirit of a jinn hybrid who wants to assassinate the Abaddon Father. If we can get inside, into his room, we can stop her before she can.” I paused, surprised I could talk amid the hammering of my pulse. “Please, Carreg. I swear to you this is real.”
His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. If Carreg had political reason to wish the Father dead, then there was no way in hell he’d let us inside. He’d simply let things play out and refuse us. But if it worked in his favor, or if he thought it might in the future, then he’d help us.
Carreg took a step closer to me, gazing down at me with such intensity that I wanted to step back. Subtle notes of sage and cedar wafted around me. I could feel a light push at my mind, but I kept him blocked. He smiled at that.
“You are changing,” he said quietly, as though we didn’t have an audience. “And the Abaddon curse for blood …”
I drew back. It wasn’t something I’d thought on for quite some time, certainly not now. But if this was what he wanted to know, I’d play. Anything to get inside and stop my sister. “If you’re asking me if I’ve been going around drinking blood … not happening and don’t have the urge to … Looks like that nasty trait didn’t pass to me. Anything else you want to know?”
Carreg had been curious before, when he found out that I’d been injected with not only the DNA of an Elysian Adonai but that of an Abaddon as well. The House of Abaddon was cursed with the need for blood to sustain them. Astarot, however, was cursed with a need for, as Carreg had put it:
“Interesting indeed,” he remarked, stepping back as another noble approached, hands tucked behind his back, dressed in a flowing robe of black and gold.
“I see you have off-world visitors, my lord.”
“Hmm,” Carreg said by way of an answer. “They claim the Father is in danger, Matsul …”
Matsul blinked. Then he threw back his head and laughed. My hope dropped like a stone. Shit. They weren’t going to listen. Panic had me glancing around the plaza, wondering where the Father slept, wondering how to get to him on our own. I looked at those who passed by and wondered if Bryn was already here, or if she’d come barging through the gate at any second.
“You’re not seriously thinking …” Matsul said, drawing my attention back to him and Carreg.
Matsul scowled down his aquiline nose, looking from Carreg to us. “The Father has no enemies. He is too old and has remained in a state of sleep for centuries. His very existence is a miracle and I can assure you, there is no one who wishes him harm. He is loved by all.”
“You forget,” Rex spoke up. “He made enemies while he was alive. He killed hundreds of jinn, slaughtered those he thought might rebel agains him. Without trial, without evidence …”
Matsul went to reply, but Carreg stopped him. “Perhaps there is merit in what they say. Come with me.”
Matsul gasped. “This is an Abaddon matter, not dependent on Astarot commands.”
A silky chuckle breezed through Carreg’s lips. “I believe the Father’s life is at risk. Houses do not matter in this. Now, you may accompany us, or you may stay here gaping.”
Red filtered through Matsul’s skin as Carreg strode away. But the noble followed us across the plaza and toward the black marble temple in the distance.
Thank God we were finally moving.
Carreg led us up the wide ramp to the temple. The black marble pylons loomed above us, the marble so smooth and polished, it looked like glass. The rectangular opening that led inside, however, was flat and dark and intimidating as hell. Statues of winged creatures similar to griffins lined the ramp on each side and were carved from gray stone with flecks that reflected the violet glow in the high cavern ceiling above. I craned my neck up to see more soaring columns and balconies with sheer curtains waving gently.
The walls of the temple were so thick that we walked for several steps in total blackness before the space opened up into a large chamber lit with strange bluish fires in wall sconces. The floor was also made of black marble, flawless and polished to a mirror shine. The columns inside were painted in bold colors, scenes of battles, heroes, and animal-headed, winged gods.
Matsul caught up with Carreg as we slowed, and together they led us down a long corridor. It was a maze, the temple leading into courtyards and other buildings, down long, echoing halls, through chambers, past the curious stares of nobles and the stoic faces of guards.
It all passed by in a blur. Until finally we stopped in front of a wide door with two guards—nobles; not the
