When Darkness Ends (Guardians of Eternity #12)(86)

“Not me,” he instantly denied. “Another male broke her heart.”

There was a long pause. As if she was deciding whether or not to believe him.

Then she gave a shake of her head, clearly dismissing Lise and her abused heart.

“She said—”

“Now isn’t the time for this discussion,” Cyn broke in, already knowing where the conversation was headed.

Eventually he would reveal that she was his mate.

But not until they’d managed to deal with the crazed magic-user.

He wanted lots of time and maybe Fallon handcuffed to the bed when he shared the news.

She studied him with a wary expression. “Cyn.”

“Since I wasn’t invited to share your bath, I need a shower,” he abruptly announced, latching onto the first distraction that came to mind.

“Wait.” Her wariness deepened. “I think we should—”

His words were abruptly interrupted by a clang of bells that echoed through the room.

Cyn winched, his sensitive ears ringing. “What the hell?”

“My bowls,” she muttered and headed out of the room before he could halt her.

Cyn cursed, swiftly chasing after her. “Where are you going?”

“The alarms have been tripped,” she said without slowing. “That means someone’s entered the Oracles’ cave.”

He darted across the hall and into the opposite room. While he’d been hoping for a distraction, this wasn’t it.

“Wait.” He managed to catch her arm and spin her around to meet his worried scowl.

She made a sound of impatience. “What’s wrong?”

Wrong?

Was she kidding him?

His chest still hurt from the blast he’d taken from the damned magic-user.

“The last time the alarms were tripped we were nearly killed,” he reminded her in dry tones.

A shadow briefly darkened her eyes as she recalled her terror when he’d been knocked unconscious, but her expression remained grimly determined.

“I’ll be careful,” she said, lifting her hand to lightly touch his cheek as he scowled at her in frustration. “I promise.”

“Damn.”

Loosening his grip on her arm, Cyn followed her hurried steps to the bowls that were vibrating from the force of the bells. Thankfully the noise came to an end as Fallon gave a wave of her hand.

In the blessed silence they knelt beside the nearest bowl, Cyn’s muscles clenched as he prepared to knock Fallon out of the path of danger.

Ignoring his tension, Fallon waved her hand over the bowl, using her magic to guide the images from one end of the massive cavern to the other.

Cyn remained on alert, even when it appeared there was nothing to see beyond the Oracles resting in their various caves. He didn’t know much about magic, but he was sure that it didn’t accidentally set off alarms.

At last Fallon pulled back her hand and the image floating in the water settled on a narrow tunnel at the back of the cavern.

“Look,” she breathed.

Cyn deliberately leaned so he was between Fallon and the bowl, his gaze narrowing with fury.

“Druid.” The word came out as a curse. Silently he studied the cloaked figure that was once again skulking through the shadows.

This time, however, he wasn’t pausing to strengthen his previous spell. He was, instead, heading into a dark cavern that held an ancient altar in the center of the floor.

Fallon grabbed Cyn’s arm, peeking over his shoulder as the druid moved to place a bowl on the flat top of the altar.

“He has the blood for the sacrifice.”

Cyn surged to his feet. The druid wasn’t there to lay another layer of magic.

Time had just run out.

“He’s getting ready to start the spell,” he growled, glancing toward the ornate clock on the mantel and doing a swift calculation. “Bloody hell.”

Fallon straightened, her expression troubled. “Cyn?”

His gut twisted with fear. “It’s still an hour until daylight there.”

She bit her bottom lip, as if she were holding back her instinctive protest.

“You intend to travel to the Oracles?”

He shrugged. “We have to stop him from casting that spell.”

“But we don’t know how.”

Cyn might not be capable of halting magic, but he was a master at putting an end to his enemies.

“Oh, I know how.”

She blinked in surprise. “You do?”

Cyn bared his fangs. “The druid can’t perform magic if he’s dead.”

Chapter Twenty

Magnus studied the breech.

Was it real or merely another part of the complicated illusion?

He ignored the three men draped in heavy cloaks. Instead, his gaze lingered on the ragged edges of the rift and the abrupt change from sunny meadow to a dark, craggy landscape with a distant stone castle in the background.

It had to be real.

An illusion would never be so sharply defined. It would have faded from one scene to another.

Even as he came to his decision, the stupid gargoyle was waddling to stand at his side.

“Do you want me to turn them into newts?” he demanded, pointing a claw toward the robed men who seemed unaware of the breech.

“No.” Magnus shot the gargoyle an annoyed glance. “You’ve done enough.”