“The fey have been chasing Sally since the gargoyle removed the illusions wrapped around her music box.”
Levet lifted his hands. “Hey, do not blame me.”
“Odd,” Styx murmured.
Roke shook his head. “No more odd than the Miera demon who attacked us.”
Styx’s eyes narrowed. “Did you say Miera?”
“Yes. He attacked us twice. The second time he nearly killed me,” Roke admitted in bleak tones. It was his inability to destroy the bastard that had allowed Sally to be put in danger. “Do you know who he is?”
Styx grimaced. “There’s a missing Oracle who has been killing the fey.”
Oracle?
Well, shit. That would explain the creature’s strength if not his weird-ass powers.
“Brandel?” Levet abruptly asked.
Styx nodded. “Yes.”
“Bah.” The gargoyle wrinkled his snout. “I knew he had been to Canada.”
Roke made a sound of impatience. “What does this Brandel have to do with Sally?”
“Actually, we were hoping you could tell us,” Styx said.
“He wanted the box. Or at least that’s what he claimed.” Roke hissed in frustration. “I no longer know if it’s Sally or the box that everyone is trying to get their hands on.”
“It all has to be connected,” Styx said, his brows furrowed.
“I don’t care,” Roke snapped. “I just want Sally.”
Styx nodded in ready agreement. “Levet, get the imp.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sally stood in the middle of the sun-drenched field, completely disoriented.
Okay. Just a second ago she’d been in a dark desert surrounded by angry vampires. Then she’d released her spell and there had been a swirl of dizzying colors. And then . . .
Then she was standing in this meadow that was filled with buttercups and daisies and tiger lilies along with lilac bushes to add to the dazzling display. Overhead the sky was a clear, impossible blue with an occasional bird casting a shadow over the endless fields.
Where was she?
And more importantly, where was Roke?
“Hello?” she called, taking a hesitant step forward. The movement abruptly drew her attention to the fact that the itchy blanket had been replaced by a flowing satin gown in a pale ivory.
The spaghetti straps allowed the warm sun to stroke over the skin of her shoulders while the lace around the hem tickled the tops of her bare feet. She might have appreciated the beautiful garment if she hadn’t been worried how she’d acquired it between one heartbeat and the next, and who had placed it on her naked body.
As it was, she held the music box in a death grip and took another step forward.
“Roke?” she called.
There was no answer beyond the rustle of the breeze through the flowers, but suddenly she caught the scent of a rich full-bodied wine.
It was intoxicating.
“Is someone there?” she called out.
Without warning a marble grotto appeared in the center of the field.
Built of white marble it had fluted columns and a dome roof that glittered gold in the sunlight.
Sally gasped, stunned by the magic that sizzled in the air.
She’d never felt anything so raw, so . . . primal.
And more disturbing, it was stirring a thunderous reaction deep inside her. As if a dam had suddenly burst to release a flood of magic she never knew she possessed.
Blessed goddess. What was happening to her now?
Still trying to process the tidal wave of magic, Sally was distracted as a shadow appeared between the columns of the grotto.
Crap. There was something coming.
That couldn’t be a good thing.
Barely daring to breathe, she watched as a tall, elegant form stepped from between the columns, moving down the steps with a liquid grace.
Sally blinked. Then blinked again.
He was . . . beautiful.
Staggeringly, breathtakingly beautiful.
Wearing a robe of purest white, the stranger had long hair the color of spun gold held from his face by a narrow band of silver studded with priceless gems. His eyes were faintly slanted and the color of polished amber flecked with jade. His skin was unblemished and so silky smooth it didn’t look real, while his lips were sensuously carved and tinted the shade of ripe strawberries.
He moved toward her with such a regal air she nearly curtsied, his gaze skimming over with a clinical curiosity.
As if she were a wild animal that strayed into his fairy-tale land.
“Ah, Sally,” he murmured, his voice brushing over her like velvet. “At last.”
He knew her name. How?
Sally licked her lips, trying to think beyond the magic bubbling through her.
“Who are you?”
“Sariel.”
Which told her precisely nothing.
“Where am I?”
He seemed to consider. “A difficult question.”
Sally grimaced. The fact that Sariel didn’t have a straightforward answer wasn’t comforting.
“Not usually.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “The place does not matter.”
“Fine.” Obviously he wasn’t going to answer the question. Move on. “How did I get here?”
“I called and you came.”
“How?”
He smiled. “Your powers grow with every passing hour.”
She frowned. “You’re saying I brought myself here?”
“Of course.”
She had a flashback to magic that seared through her just as the swirl of color had engulfed them. Was it possible that she actually created a portal that had brought her here?
She was shaking her head before the thought could fully form.
“That’s impossible.”
The amber eyes continued to study her, his exquisite face impossible to read. Had he never seen a witch before?
“You’ll discover nothing is impossible once you’ve fully embraced your birthright.”
Embrace her birthright?
She didn’t know what that meant and she didn’t care.
All she wanted was to be away from this too-perfect place and in the arms of her mate.
“No,” she denied. “Where’s Roke?”
“The vampire?”
“Yes.”
He paused, the magic thickening in the air. “Your portal sent him to the King of Vampires,” he at last said.
Sally released a shaky sigh. Relief was flooding through her at the knowledge that Roke was safe, even as she tried to wrap her brain around the idea she’d created a portal that not only sent Roke to Chicago, but brought her to this place.