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She sucked in a breath. “I see it.”
“Reach out. Push through. Open it up, Truly.”
With an invisible hand, she prodded the edges. A strong wind blew through her mind, then gusted into the room. The icy chill clawed at her ponytail, whipping it across the back of her neck. Goosebumps rose on her skin. Westvane’s heat retreated. She felt the weight of his hands, but the warmth… his heat no longer touched her.
Startled, Truly opened her eyes.
His fingers flexed on her shoulders. “Look.”
She followed the tilt of his head. Her gaze tracked left and…
“Oh my God.”
The door she’d seen in her mind now stood open on the other side of the room. Floating above the floor near the far wall. Tangible. Touchable. Unmistakable. As solid as Westvane. As plain as the nose on her face.
“It’s real.”
“Yes.”
“I did that.”
“Yes.”
Wonder filled her. “I’m a Door Master.”
“Was never in doubt.” Lifting his hands, Westvane let her go. “Well done, princess.”
His praise made her smile.
The corners of his eyes crinkled.
Amazed by the sight of the door, Truly pushed away from the wall. “Let’s go.”
“About time,” Montrose said. “I told you th —”
“Move. Now,” Westvane growled, cutting off the gargoyle.
Truly didn’t argue. Pivoting toward the door, Truly hopped over an overturned chair, and dodging the lights dangling from the ceiling, ramped into a run. She heard the guys roll in behind her. Felt the thump of their footfalls on sagging floorboards, but something else, too. The building vibrated. A loud screech walked shivers up her spine. An engine roared. Steel groaned. The security wall ripped in half as it was yanked from the front window and door.
A thin, whistling noise tore across the shop.
Westvane cursed.
Montrose shouted, “Get down!”
Halfway to the magical door, Truly looked behind her. All she saw was Westvane. A fierce expression on his face, he closed the distance. Rough hands grabbed her. His wings came around her, protecting her as he lunged for the portal she’d opened.
A missile slammed into the shop.
The front of Montrose & Brim exploded.
A fireball raged into the room. Shrapnel blew inward as heat licked over her skin. One arm wrapped hard around her, Westvane stumbled sideways. The smell of burnt feathers and singed skin bubbled into the air.
With a snarl, Westvane spun into a quick rotation. Truly held on, trying to look past his wings, desperate to oriented herself. She didn’t get the chance. One moment, he carried her. The next, he threw her, hurling her toward the portal ten feet away.
She yelled in protest.
Too little, too late.
