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Azlandia help her. There was more?
She raised a brow, telling him to continue without saying a word.
“A third travelled with them.”
“A third?”
Pushing away from the tree trunk, Priestly walked toward her. She sidestepped, letting him pass as he gestured to a set of tracks on the ground. “By the scent of it… a gargoyle.”
“Male?”
“Yes.”
Her head snapped toward Ipsalar and the House of Scholars. Eyes on the jade dome in the distance, she put two and two together. “Did they split up? Or is the witch in Ipsalar? Are she and Westvane —”
“The gargoyle went into the city,” Priestly said, pointing to the lone set of tracks on the trail that disappeared over the bluff edge. Turning the other way, he pointed to a depressed patch of grass near the base of the cliffs. “Westvane and the Door Master went back to Earth Realm through a door.”
“So, out of reach for the time being, but…” she trailed off, turning all the information over in her mind. The trio had travelled together, in Earth Realm and across Azlandia. Each protecting the other, forming an alliance of some kind. Stood to reason, if she threatened one, the other two would come running. “Find the gargoyle. Tear Ipsalar apart if you have to, Priestly, but find him.”
Boots planted at the trailhead descending into the valley, Priestly glanced at her over his shoulder. “And when I do?”
“Bring him to me,” she said, voice soft with the threat of violence. “He’ll make excellent bait.”
One way or another, she’d sink her nails into the new Door Master.
After that, she’d turn her wrath on Westvane.
Priestly was right. She never should’ve honored her father’s dying wish. Last requests belonged to fools, and compassion was a waste of time. Keeping Westvane alive had been a mistake. Pure folly, an error in judgement she would rectify in one of two ways. Either she’d recapture Westvane when he returned to Azlandia after neutralizing the Wendigo. Or she’d get him by setting a trap. One baited by an injured gargoyle in need of immediate rescue.
Either scenario would work.
All she need do now was wait to see which one the universe granted her. A queen, after all, required her pleasures, and the manner in which she eliminated enemies had always been her preferred form of entertainment.
42
BAD MOJO
The trip across theEcotonewas uneventful. No sea serpents this time, just vast stretches of open water and distant mountain peaks as she crossed the expanse between the Mirror Kingdoms. Soothing air currents tugged at her. Pure energy enveloped her, stroking along her spine, soothing cords of frayed nerve endings. Sore muscles relaxed. Jumbled thoughts aligned into a focused stream as she pictured the inside of her house.
Holding the image of the old Victorian inside her head, she allowed a door to form in her mind. Sparks flew. An archway streamed into view, following the curve of a round-topped door. Relief winged through her as she pushed the door into Earth Realm open and stepped over the threshold, back into the hallway inside her new home.
With a long exhale, she stood still, both feet rooted to the floor, feeling the relief. Huge, crystal-laden chandelier sparkling above her head. Wood paneling of the entryway polished to a high shine. Familiar area rug underfoot.Details— all the little details came to her, making the safe landing on her side of theEcotoneseem like a miracle.
Particularly since she hadn’t known if she was going in the right direction.
All she’d done was picture the house, hoping to land somewhere she recognized. TheEcotonehad done the rest, directing her path, sending her where she wished to go — home.
Right into the clutches of a scowling Earl.
Truly sighed. Shit. She’d forgotten about Earl. How the Mantipede slipped her mind, she didn’t know. The creepy-crawly half of him was difficult to forget… and even harder to ignore.
“Hey, Earl.” Moving out of the vestibule, Truly strode into the central corridor.
“Where have you been?” Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, Earl tapped a number of his feet against the wooden floor. “Thought you’d be back for supper. I’ve been waiting two days.”
“I ruin the soufflé or something?”
The sarcasm didn’t go over well. It never did with Earl.
