“Tilting the scales.”
“Scales?” Levet scratched his stunted horn, clearly baffled. “What scales?”
“Those.”
Cassie pointed her hand to the center of the room where the combatants had cleared a space for the two females who stood face-to-face.
Although they were nearly obscured by the shimmer of combating energies, there was no mistaking the Dark Lord with her deceptively girlish beauty and her shadowed aura, or Abby, who was bathed in a soft glow, her eyes as brilliant as sapphires.
“Abby.” The gargoyle gasped in distress as the Dark Lord lifted her hand and bolts of lightning shot toward the Phoenix, knocking her backward. Abby grimaced in pain, but with grim determination she forced herself to step forward, continuing to surround the Dark Lord in the power of the goddess. “Non.”
With a flutter of his wings, the gargoyle abruptly charged forward, using his small stature to dart between the legs of the demons who were too busy to take notice of him.
“Levet . . . wait.” Cassie straightened, her breath squeezing from her lungs at the fear she’d just sent the precious little demon to his death. “Crap, crap, crap.”
“Don’t fear.” The female demon reached to pat Cassie on the back of her leg, the pulse of her power a tangible force. “I will protect him.”
Cassie glanced down at the unpredictable creature, not entirely reassured by her promise. “Why?”
She flashed a smile filled with anticipation. And sharp teeth. Yow.
“Because I am not done playing with him yet.”
“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. . . .”
Shakespeare’s words ran through Levet’s mind as he narrowly avoided a spear that nicked the top of his wing.
He’d been convinced that nothing could be worse than to be condemned as a useless lump of stone and left to rot in Styx’s garden. After all, he’d spent his considerably long life attempting to become a fierce warrior who would at last impress his brethren.
Now he realized that being a part of the battle was no better.
Not because he feared he would be killed.
Death was death. Inevitable, even to immortals.
No, what he feared was failure.
He’d always been the smallest, the weakest, and the least likely to become a hero. Even his magic was pathetic, if he was being perfectly honest.
How could he possibly be expected to “tip the scales”?
Taking a kick to the head and having his tail stepped on more times than he could count, Levet at last reached the center of the room. He skidded to a halt at the edge of the energy field that surrounded Abby and the Dark Lord like a bubble, the electric prickles crawling over his skin as the evil deity sent another bolt of lightning into her slender opponent.
“Abby,” he cried out, close enough to see the blackened burns that seared her fragile skin.
She turned her head, looking every inch the Phoenix with her brilliant blue eyes and fierce expression.
“Levet.” She frowned in bewilderment, then doubled over as another bolt struck her in her stomach. “Stay back,” she gasped.
“Non.”
Darting forward, Levet abruptly found himself dangling off the ground as someone grabbed him by the horn and lifted him upward.
“Dammit, gargoyle,” a familiar voice snarled.
Levet was spun to meet a pair of furious silver eyes set in the face of a pirate.
Dante.
He wiggled, even knowing it was futile. Dante was like any other vampire.
Arrogant, annoyingly strong, and stubborn as a damned mule.
“Let me go,” he commanded.
Naturally Dante ignored him, his expression so brittle that Levet knew it would take very little to shatter him.
“This isn’t the time for your foolish bravado,” he snapped. “Abby’s fighting for her life.” His gaze compulsively shifted to where his mate was bravely ignoring her grievous wounds to straighten and send a pulse of light toward the Dark Lord. “She’s fighting for all of us.”
Levet grasped the vampire’s wrist, knowing he was teetering on the edge as he watched his mate being brutalized.
“Listen to me, Dante. I was a part of the vision.”
He scowled, reluctantly returning his attention to the gargoyle dangling from his hand. “What vision?”
“Cassie’s vision.”
“The prophet?”
“Oui.”
“Shit.”
“Let me go, Dante,” Levet softly demanded. “Abby needs me.”
The scowl remained. “If you—”
“I know,” he interrupted, sensing the electricity building in the air. The Dark Lord was about to strike again, and there was no guarantee the Phoenix could survive another blow. “I’m here to help.”
Without warning, he was lowered back to the ground, Dante’s face white with fear. “Save her,” he pleaded.
Levet nodded, forgetting his own doubts as he turned to step through the shroud of energy.
It no longer mattered what his purpose was, so long as he faced it with his head held high and his wings undrooping.
That was surely the definition of a hero?
He took another step forward, his skin crawling at the volatile power that slammed into him.
Mon Dieu.
He staggered to a halt. How could Abby bear the crushing pain?
Suddenly sensing his presence, Abby turned to regard him with unearthly blue eyes. “Levet?”
Before he could reassure her that he was there to help, he was distracted by the lightning bolt that sizzled past his horns.
“What’s this?” the Dark Lord mocked, her eyes pits of crimson flame and her body surrounded by a black aura. “Have you come to be squashed, little bug?”
“I . . .”
His courage threatened to crumble. He was a little bug. A foolish little bug with delusions of grandeur.
Then, his glance skidded toward the battle that raged just beyond the bubble. He flinched at the sight of the warriors who fought. And those who’d already fallen. They didn’t care if he was tiny, or if his wings were too frilly, or his magic as fickle as a fairy whore. They were sacrificing everything to halt the dark tide. How could he do any less?
He stiffened his backbone. Hero, Levet. You’re a hero, not a bug.
“Well, gargoyle,” the Dark Lord drawled. “Has the cat gotten your tongue?”
Levet tilted his chin. “I have come to kill you.”
The crimson eyes narrowed. “Is this a joke?”
Levet felt Abby place a hand on his wing, the warmth of the goddess surrounding him.