Verin grunted; he sounded impressed.
“But without that destruction spell, we've got nothing,” I concluded.
“You said you need a dark spell?” Darcraxis lifted a brow.
I gaped at him. Could it be that simple?
“Was that Darcraxis?” Torin asked.
“Yes,” I whispered to Torin. Then I asked Darc, “Do you think you can cast a spell like that? Your Darkness isn't essentially evil.”
“No magic is essentially evil, my fire.” Darc grinned. “It's all in the way you use it. What we need is a spell to destroy other spells and if any magic can do that, it's God magic. Especially if my spell is cast against one crafted by a Shining One. We are the creators of their race, their world, and their magic, after all. What you create, you can also destroy.”
“Tell him to get his ass to Onyx!” Torin shouted loud enough that Darc heard.
Darcraxis grinned—a little eagerly—and got to his feet. He headed toward the door.
“Darc!” I called after him. He turned to look at me. “Don't blow yourself up.”
“I will endeavor not to.”
Chapter Forty-Six
While Darc and Torin worked with Quinlan to make the M-Bombs—I'd relented and given them the name I refused to give them before—I searched for a song that would heal Slate's heart if it needed some help. The process involved scouring my iPod while drinking vast amounts of coffee at the dining table, a pair of earbuds in so I wouldn't disturb the men in the living room nearby. I finally decided on a couple of options then joined the rest of the team to finish planning.
We had called Cerberus in. Mainly because I knew he would never forgive me if I left him out of this battle. He'd been pretty pissed as it was; I'd taken too long to contact him evidently. He should have been consulted from the very beginning, especially since his “expertise” would be “invaluable” when dealing with Zone security.
Whatever. He just wanted to fight Gargo again.
“Where's Luke?” Cerberus asked as I plopped into a chair next to his.
“We didn't call him,” I said. “We don't need him for this.”
“But you need little boy blue over there?” Cerberus waved a hand at Verin.
Verin glowered at him. It was a deadly glower that made Cer clear his throat uncomfortably. I blinked; that was a first. Usually, Cerberus reacts to aggression with more aggression. It's his default setting.
“According to two seers—one who died to give us the message—we do,” I said as I eyed both men.
“You're taking your Shining One soldiers, right?” Cerberus asked me.
“Actually, we need to talk about that,” Banning jumped in. “Too large a presence might prevent Gargo from coming out to face us; too small and he might simply sic his Gargoyles on us.”
“The Gargoyles are being forced to serve him,” I told Cerberus. “They know he isn't Slate, not entirely, but they can't overpower their God.”
“This sounds familiar,” Cer huffed.
“Yes, it's one of Gargo's advantages and we need to counter it in the same manner as the last time,” Declan declared. “If forced into a battle, we try to incapacitate without killing.”
“How many Gargoyles does Slate have?” Cerberus asked me.
“I'm not sure; hundreds.”
“Then take a hundred soldiers,” he suggested. “It'll look like you've underestimated them, but one Shining One knight is easily worth five Gargoyles.”
“Don't ever repeat this to Slate, but I agree. And your advice is sound.” I scowled. “But, just to play Devil's Advocate, will it be overkill? All those magic-users could wind up getting in our way.”
“Better overkill than under,” Gage said grimly.
“True.” I glanced at the others. “Anyone have something to add?”
“How about three magic bombs and a God-killing dagger?” Darcraxis asked as he strode into the room with Torin.
“They're done?” Declan jumped up to take a look.
“You made magic bombs? As in; those things that we specifically destroyed all evidence of? The weapons that could change the face of Beneather warfare; those bombs?” Cerberus stared at me in much the same way that I'd stared at Torin when he'd first made the suggestion.
“Yeah; those bombs. I was getting to that part.” I grimaced. “After we remove Gargo from Slate with the dagger, we're going to throw the dagger in a steel box with a bomb. It should destroy his soul. I know it's a risk but we're out of options, Cer.”
“Fuck me,” Cerberus groaned and thumped his bulky body back in his chair. He ran a hand through his short, deep-brown hair. “I don't know about this, El. And why the fuck did you make three if you only needed one?”
I looked at Darc for the answer.
“Just in case,” Darc said as he handed the satchel of bombs to Declan, who was staring into the bag with a wary but curious expression. “And isn't three the charm?”
Declan took the bag and opened it to show Gage. Gage wouldn't even touch the leather, he just leaned over the top and peered in as if the bag were full of deadly snakes. Come to think of it, he'd probably be less wary of the snakes.
“We didn't choose that number idly,” Torin protested. “If we only need one, we can use one of the remaining bombs to destroy the other. But if we do need more than one, we'll have two spares.”
“But you're definitely destroying the remainder either way, right?” Cerberus pushed.
“Definitely. We won't risk keeping one any of them.” Darc shifted his stare to Verin. “I hope you understand how much trust we've placed in you by sharing this information.”
Verin inclined his head.
Cerberus snorted. “He wouldn't be able to form enough words to explain a magic bomb anyway.”
“I can speak, Cerberus,” Verin asserted derisively. “I just refuse to waste breath on useless chatter. Or barking, in your case.”
Gage burst into laughter as Cerberus grimaced at the Dragon. Verin's eyes twinkled but he didn't insult Cer
