Stolen Fate (16 page)

No wonder Carthe was hoping to destroy the covenant and find new followers. He hoped to revitalize his afterworld with the power of mortal belief. At least, it was the only explanation Ian could think of.

“To the left,” Fiona said. “In the direction of the building on the hill.”

They set off toward the hill at the edge of town, upon which sat a white stone monstrosity in better condition than the rest of the buildings. There wasn’t much cover, but they did their best to stay in the shadows of the buildings.
 

Halfway to their destination, they passed several souls wandering a side street. They were dressed in ancient clothing, robes that fell around their shoulders and laced leather boots. The souls turned to stare, but unlike the gods, weren’t concerned with defending the afterworld.

When they reached the edge of town, Ian halted with the rest. A field of grass separated the edge of town from the hill. Up close, it looked more like a manmade mound upon which the city’s finest building had been constructed. A long flight of white stone steps climbed the side of the mound to the portico and great double doors.
 

“We should skirt around the edge,” Ian said.

“Aye.”

“Agreed.”

They raced across the field, heading left when they reached the bottom of the mound and circling the base. There were no stairs at the back, nor had there been any on the side of the mound.
 

Silently, they climbed to the top and pressed themselves against the edge of the building between the windows. The structure was built in a style Ian was certain hadn’t been common thousands of years ago, but then, gods weren’t bound by technology as mortals were.
 

“We’ll go through the window,” Karrem said.
 

Fiona looked over. “But the noise.”

“Not a problem.” Karrem touched the glass, and it dissolved.

Ian’s brows rose. So Karrem had hidden talents.
 

One by one, they climbed through the window into a wide hallway. It was flagged with white stone and had barren walls. Everything in this afterworld was white and barren, Ian realized. Whether it was natural or a product of neglect, he couldn’t tell.

“To the left,” Fiona whispered
 

Ian followed, fighting the pull of dozens of other precious artifacts, focusing instead on the call of the book that Fiona also felt.
 

When he heard voices, he pulled up short, breath held. The others followed suit.

“Destroy it now!” a harsh voice echoed through the hall.
 

“We wait for Celiae!”

They hadn’t destroyed it yet? Ian’s muscles would have sagged in relief had he not been so tense. They listened for a minute longer. Ian desperately tried to pick out voices.

Fiona held up her hand, three fingers raised. He agreed. From what he could hear, there were only three gods within.

But they were
gods.
More powerful than any of their party by far.
 

“Ready?” Loras mouthed.
 

He nodded, his eyes on Fiona, then became invisible. He crept toward the open door on silent feet. If he could just get in and snatch the book, the others wouldn’t have to act as backup. Fiona would be safe.

Their odds against three gods were terrible, especially since Vivienne would have to stay out of the way so as not to be killed. She was their only way out.

He braced himself and stepped into the room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Fiona’s heart thundered as she watched Ian disappear. She squinted, hoping to see him go into the room, then realized how stupid she was being. He was invisible.

But she was so damn scared for him. The seconds ticked by like hours. Her palm sweated around her sword hilt and she shifted her feet.

A shout sounded from within. She sprang into action, sprinting for the door, the others on her heels.
 

She skidded into the room, taking in the scene in a glance. Three gods grappled with the air, no doubt grabbing an invisible Ian. All three of them were on him. There was no way he could hold onto the book.

She sprinted toward the closest one, a slender, black-robed figure near the back of the room. She plunged her sword into his back.

He stumbled away, releasing an invisible Ian. Karrem and Loras attacked the other two, slashing their weapons at the gods, who turned to fight back.

The god she’d stabbed turned to her. Tattoos covered his face and hands, black ink and white skin making the acid-green eyes glow. The book was clutched in his hand.

She thrust her sword again, this time into his chest. His mouth gaped, fury and shock lighting his eyes.
 

“Who are you?” The words gurgled from his sagging mouth. He raised his hand. A ball of glowing light formed in his palm, something hotter than fire. The heat of it blasted her skin, though it was nowhere near her.

Oh shite.
Fiona jerked her sword free and swung at the god’s arm. Too late. The ball of plasma flew free, aimed straight at her.
 

Pain. A huge force knocked her to the side. She crashed to the marble floor, falling as the god did, her eyes locked on his face. He crashed to the ground, his eyes closed and a gaping wound in his chest from her sword.

Fiona scrambled to her feet and spun around, terrified that she was correct about what had knocked her aside.
 

Ian lay sprawled on the marble, his sword on the ground a few feet from him, his invisibility fallen away. His handsome face was pale, his eyes closed. She raced to his side, dropped to her knees next to him.
 

“Ian!” She shook him.

His eyes popped open and he shook his head as if to clear it.

“I’m fine.” His voice was rough, pain in every syllable.

She patted her hands over him, feeling for injuries as she glanced over her shoulder at the fray behind her. Loras and Karrem fought two gods, while the one she’d felled was prone on the ground. Vivienne was hurtling toward them.
 

Fiona turned back to Ian. At his side she found a great hole in his sweater and a segment of burned flesh. It was blackened and raw looking.
 

It could have killed him. She shook the fear away and scrambled toward the fallen god. She grabbed at the book still clutched in his hand. His grasp tightened and his eyes blazed. He was healing from his wounds and would be on his feet any second.
 

She plunged her sword through his neck. She left the blade protruding from his flesh and grabbed the book, then scrambled back to Ian’s side.

Vivienne fell to her knees next to them and reached for their hands. “Come on!”

She gasped, then reached for Vivienne’s hand. Within a second, they were back in Lea’s office. The colorful book-lined shelves were such a contrast to Dalen’s paleness.

Vivienne returned to the fray immediately, leaving them in the silent office. No doubt Lea was far back in the cavernous, library-like space.

Fiona cupped Ian’s face in her hands. Gods, he was so beautiful to her. So reckless. She kissed him hard, then pushed him away. She knew she was risking everything with her career if she lost him. But she didn’t care. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being sent back to that stone box.

“Go! Use your invisibility.” Her voice rushed out of her, desperate.

He staggered slightly, his face pale from the pain. He flickered in and out of sight, too weak to fully utilize his power.

“Run.” Her heart felt like it was trying to tear itself away from her body.

“I’ll see you,” he said, his eyes dark and deep, then he turned. He was through the door and out of her sight before the sob broke from her chest.

Vivienne appeared with Karrem and Loras.

“Where is he?” Loras demanded.

“Long gone,” Fiona lied. Oh gods, she had to buy him some time.

Karrem charged out of the room, Loras on his heels.
 

Nay!
Fiona ran after them, rounding the corner in time to see a dagger strike Ian in the back. He was nearly to the end of the hallway, but Karrem was too fast. He threw another dagger and Ian stumbled. Fell to his knees.
 

“Nay!” she screamed.
 

But it did no good. Loras and Karrem were upon him, grabbing his arms and hauling him to his feet. Blood dripped to the floor.

Fiona watched, helpless, as they dragged Ian down the hall.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Three weeks later

Prison for Magical Deviants, Immortal University

Edinburgh, Scotland

Rough hands shoved Ian into his cell. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind him, the footsteps of the prison guard echoing down the hallway. Ian dragged a hand down his face, sighing disgustedly at the feel of the grit on his skin. The prison guards had just escorted him back from construction duty in Moloch.
 

Building the cathedral in hell had been worse than ever since he’d been thrown back in here three weeks ago. His brief taste of freedom—and having Fiona—had only served to highlight the misery of the prison.

There’d been no retrial when he’d been captured after the assault on Dalen. They’d simply pulled the daggers from his back, patched him up, and thrown him back in the cell. He’d managed to slip the collar back around his neck in the infirmary. To his knowledge, no one had noticed that it had ever been gone, so Fiona shouldn’t take the blame.

It was the least he could do for her. She’d tried to free him.

If she’d tried to visit him while he was down here, he had no idea. Hell, visits probably weren’t even allowed.

He sat on his bed and pulled the dirty boots from his feet. Another endless day of mortaring stone and then breaking it down again. Compared to the exhilaration of being with Fiona, it was an exercise in utter misery.

The lock on his cell door creaked. His head jerked up. No one should be turning that lock until tomorrow morning, when he’d head back to Moloch.
 

An unfamiliar guard walked in and shut the door behind him.
 

“Who the hell are you?” he asked. But even as he said it, his skin prickled.
 

It couldn’t be.

Green magic swirled around the figure. When it dissipated, Logan stood inside his cell.

Hope flared in Ian’s chest. “How the hell are you here? Warding spells bar you from the campus.” As a god, Logan wasn’t allowed on the campus of the Immortal University. In an attempt to maintain peace between the afterworlds, the university sometimes made decisions that the gods didn’t like. Hence the need for the spell that banned them from the grounds unless they were granted permission to be there.

Logan grinned. “Not pleased to see me?”

“Aye.” Ian strode to his friend and hugged him, clapping him on the back. “But how the hell did you waltz right in here? You aren’t allowed on the grounds.”

“I have a little trick up my sleeve.”

“Trick? Why the hell did you no’ use that trick a hundred years ago to get me out of here? I took the fall for us back then.”

Guilt flashed in Loki’s dark eyes. “I didn’t have it then. In fact, I only recently obtained it.”

Ian frowned. “The trade with the god? That was about getting me out of prison? I thought you planned for me to escape after I retrieved the book.”

“You’re right. I hadn’t intended to come here.” Loki looked around the small stone cell, his brow furrowed with distaste. “I wanted the charm that gets me past the university enchantments for other reasons. But my damn conscience kept tugging at me.”

“You do have one, you know, no matter how much you might protest.” And Logan always did protest. True, he did whatever the hell he wanted and his own endgame was always of the utmost importance, but whenever he’d been given an opportunity to do right, Ian had watched him take it.

“Thinking of you still in here, after all these years.” Logan shook his head, regret plain on his face. “You saved my life when we first met, and again when you took the blame for what happened at the museum. And you’ve kept my identity a secret. I should have tried harder to do something sooner. To get you out of here. We were partners.”