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She was already flying, heart in her throat, feet no longer on the ground, careening out of Earth Realm into the unknown.
* * *
The detonation blewshards of brick and glass into the room. Fire followed, swelling into fury around him. Westvane felt the heat, endured the burn, smelled his singed feathers beneath the lashing flame. His back to the explosion, he stood firm, his eyes trained on Truly.
Her trajectory was true.
His throw pinpoint accurate.
In full flight, arms and legs wheeling, her back to the portal, she reached the threshold. She yelled his name, eyes wide with incredulousness and a healthy amount of rage. Like any warrior, she didn’t want to leave the fight… or her comrades behind.
He understood the instinct. Welcomed the news she’d come fully into the fold. No longer disbelieving, she’d accepted him and Montrose. No doubt in her scent. No shying away from the truth. No more resistance to the idea magic existed and that she played a key role in their kind’s survival. That, however, didn’t mean he’d permit her to be anywhere near the battle.
Her welfare was too important. Giving Truly time to grow into her power — into who and what she would become — was paramount. More important than his own survival.
She’d be angry when he caught up with her on the other side of theEcotone. But at least she’d be alive. He could handle her temper. What he couldn’t do was complete his mission with her dead.
With a murmur, Westvane conjured his weapons. Black flames engulfed his right hand as lightning sword formed. Smoke swirled around the other, the shield solidifying in front of him. Feet planted, fighting stance set, he watched Truly sail through the open doorway. Only then did he turn toward the battle. Weapons raised, he snarled at the armed men advancing on the building with guns raised. Aggression rolled through his veins. His eyes began to shimmer. The ravening luminosity washed into the street, striking at the contingent who were approaching with one mission in mind — the annihilation of Magickind.
As one, the men hesitated, stutter-stepping at the sight of him.
He bared pointed canines, raised his sword and —
“No!” Montrose roared behind him. A desk went flying, flashing through his periphery as the gargoyle rolled to his feet. “The door! Westvane, the —”
His focus flicked to where Truly had exited. The door expanded. The frame contracted. A loudpop!rippled a second before the glowing panel whiplashed, closing with a snap. The slam reverberated through the office. The light-filled seam sealed and went black, disappearing into thin air.
His heart contracted.
“No,” he whispered as realization struck.
He’d miscalculated. His plan possessed a fatal flaw. One he hadn’t considered.
Truly couldn’t control her magic. As a Door Master, portals opened upon her command, but once she walked through, a door did what it had been designed to do — close in her wake, preventing others from slipping into theEcotonebehind her. She wasn’t strong enough yet to hold a portal open. Hadn’t learned the necessary tricks of her trade.
His hand flexed around his sword hilt. Goddess forgive him. He should have known. Should have anticipated and planned in accordance with the information available. If he had, she wouldn’t now be in Azlandia — little more than a sitting duck without him to protect her.
The realization unleashed his rage.
Westvane turned back to the armed men crossing the sidewalk. He would kill them all. Eliminate the threat. Level entire buildings. Leave no trace of his enemy. Only then would he turn his attention to the new problem — getting across theEcotonewithout Truly’s help. He refused to leave her there: alone, vulnerable, easy pickings for a queen who would stop at nothing to see her dead.
18
ROTTEN LUCK
Pinwheeling across Montrose & Brim, Truly revolved into an uncontrollable flip in mid-air. A high-pitch whine whistled in her ears as she flew over the magical threshold. White fog swirled into a thick soup, blurring her view into Earth Realm. She lost sight of Westvane as high velocity blew her hair around. She clawed for a handhold, but found nothing but the air, her field of vison sheeting bright white.
She screamed for Westvane and Montrose.
They needed to reach the portal she’d opened. She couldn’t leave either behind, stranded in Earth Realm, alone inside M&B with bombs exploding and a militia beating down the door.
Spinning through the air, Truly searched for a point of reference. Something to grab, the door frame, a ledge, something, anything to stop her flight into the murk. Soft as silk, wispy tendrils brushed over her skin, pulling at her limbs, drawing her backward, sending her tumbling toward darkness.
The haze thickened into milky shadows.
The outline of the door tunneled. Flames sparked around the frame. As fingers of fire licked over the seal, Truly grabbed for the handle. Her fingertips brushed against the warm surface. The door slammed closed. Her mind screamed as she cursed between clenched teeth. Without meaning to, she’d closed the portal, walling off Westvane and Montrose’s only avenue of escape while madmen attacked with rocket launchers, armored vehicles, and automatic weapons.
The realization ripped through her. Her friends were in serious trouble, and now, so was she.
