A Clash of Storms (A Shade of Vampire #50)(19)

“I take it you didn’t learn your lesson from the first time we met, Druid.” Azazel said, grinning, after several seconds of deafening silence. “Have you come for another serving? I didn’t get to do much damage, since you and your accomplices ran off and jumped into the river, but I’m more than happy to finish the job now.”

“You caught me off guard back then,” Draven replied bluntly. “I’ve come a long way since. In fact, I’m just about ready to tear your head off your shoulders and rid this world of your pestilent existence once and for all.”

Azazel scoffed, then slithered toward him, fingers twitching at his sides. Whatever the Druid had in mind, I hoped he had a contingency plan, because the Prince of Destroyers looked like he was ready to drive a fist through his chest.

“Is that so? Why don’t you give it a try now, then? Or do you want me to go first?” Azazel hissed, then put his hand out.

His fingertips lit up as he conjured a large, green fireball, which he threw at Draven with a roar. The flame shot right through Draven, cutting my breath for a second, until I realized that the Druid wasn’t actually there.

He was projecting himself, with an impressive level of detail.

Azazel blinked as the green fireball flared out into thin air, leaving behind a wisp of black smoke. He cocked his head to one side, squinting.

“You’re not here,” he muttered.

“You’re not so dumb after all,” Draven shot back with a smirk.

“Come say that to my face, little Druid.”

“Oh, but I will. You see, I’ve learned a lot since we first saw each other,” Draven replied. “I can lock on to your presence and project myself with great accuracy.”

“Yes, parlor tricks at best.” Azazel chuckled mockingly.

“You say that now…” Draven’s projection suddenly multiplied, and Azazel found himself surrounded by twenty images of the Druid, each crystal clear and impressively realistic. I understood then that Draven had found some wicked spell to clone himself. “But let’s hear your thoughts later on,” he added.

“Coming to see me, then? Shall I get the tea ready?” Azazel muttered, his hands balling into fists.

“Don’t bother, Azazel. I’m not coming for tea. I’m coming for you.”

That said, all twenty projections of Draven vanished at the same time, leaving Azazel on his own in the middle of the terrace. None of us said anything for a while, watching silently as he struggled to get his temper under control. Draven seemed to have really gotten to him, worse than anything we’d managed to accomplish up till now.

Azazel turned around to face us, his face ashen, his eyes yellow and filled with rage. His lips were pressed tightly together as he slithered toward us and put one hand out, his fingers moving in a circular pattern.

I looked to my left and saw a new glass bubble being woven where Abrille had been kept. Threads of clear glass twirled until they formed a compact sphere with a wide opening in the front, hung from the same black iron hook. Azazel then looked at Abrille, who was still lying on the floor, finally breathing without any restraint. He made a swift gesture with his hand, and Abrille was immediately pulled into the sphere by an invisible force, the glass sealing itself around her.

Upon realizing she’d been shoved into another bubble, the Nevertide Oracle burst into tears, desperately punching and kicking as the clear liquid surrounded her. She gagged and coughed several times until she got readjusted to the strange, vision-inducing water.

Azazel then looked at us, one corner of his mouth pulled up.

“Well, at least now I know why you’re all in such a good mood,” he said slowly, his tone cold and cutting through my bones. “Whatever hopes you have, I suggest you abandon them. A little Druid and his silly magic tricks will not bring me to my knees.”

He moved toward the staircase opening in the floor at the northern end of the platform, and glanced over his shoulder before he went down.

“This world is mine,” he added.

Phoenix, Vita, and I glanced tentatively at each other after he disappeared. Draven had gotten Azazel so mad that he’d postponed whatever punishment he’d had for us, forcing him to leave the platform and probably put pressure on his Destroyers.

I had a feeling he was going to ramp up his defenses below. But brute force wasn’t going to be a problem for our allies. They’d spent their whole lives fighting treacherous incubi and Destroyers. They were all ready to slash down anyone who stood in the way of our freedom.

My main concern at this point was Jovi. I knew he’d be in touch as soon as he got Nova out, but he faced plenty of dangers in the process. I was worried sick, and each minute that passed seemed longer than the one before.

“Now what?” Phoenix asked, looking around.

“I guess we wait some more,” I replied, a hint of sarcasm in my tone. There wasn’t much else to do until someone got us out of the glass bubbles.

I decided to distract myself by analyzing the platform, its open spaces and weak points. All of Vita’s visions pointed to a massive fight here, on top of the castle. The least I could do was take in all the details and use them later in my fight strategy. Because I knew that once I got out of this damn bubble, I would dive directly into combat.

I stretched my legs and arms, taking deep breaths and scanning the area, preparing for my imminent release.