Page 148 of Time's Fool

“He’s trying to save his woman,” the dhampir said, and looked at Kit. “Whatever happens, Morgan dies. We are clear on that?”

“With pleasure,” he snarled.

“All right, then,” she got up. “Let’s go distract some people.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Gillian couldn’t see much past the portal. It had sped up and was rotating so quickly now that she only saw the battlefield in glimpses. But she spied Mircea behind the ring of witches, along with a tall auburn-haired man she didn’t know.

They had been attacked by half of Morgan’s coven, but must have dealt with them, because they were alone now. She didn’t see Kit, but she knew he was out there somewhere. He was no longer in thrall, as her dear “sister” needed every bit of her power to attempt to wrest the staff away from Gillian.

Not that Gillian understood what her plan was, even should she obtain it. Morgan had said herself that she needed a Great Mother to wield it. Without Gillian’s cooperation, it was a useless piece of wood, and yet she seemed determined to take it from her.

But Gillian was determined, too—to end this. She didn’t know how to kill someone who was already dead, but she did know that Morgan would never stop otherwise. Defeat her here and she would only be back again—and again, and again, until she figured this out. It had been her one purpose for centuries; she wasn’t going to give it up now. And if she could make one demonic ally, she could make more.

But she didn’t seem to have expected Rilda’s unfinished portal system that, as yet, went nowhere.

But it worried her. She kept looking at it, perhaps because it had sucked down every spell and hex she’d tried so far, none of which had seemed to affect it in the slightest. Any magic that went into it only fed its insatiable appetite.

Possibly because it ran through the ley lines, the rivers of magical power that connected worlds and was said to have once been the highway of the gods. Gillian didn’t know whether the old stories were true, but she did know that the portal’s energy dwarfed their puny human power, and even the staff bucked and reared like an out-of-control horse whenever it came too close. She didn’t see how it could not tear apart anything that entered it, spirit or otherwise.

She and Morgan were dancing on the edge of an abyss that could consume them both at any moment, but neither would back away.

Gillian because she couldn’t, and Morgan, with her goal so near, wouldn’t.

Or perhaps she couldn’t, either. Her eyes were mad things, almost inhuman, as was her strength. She nearly wrenched the staff away, but Gillian wasn’t fighting fair and stomped on her foot, hard enough to hear her howl over the winds and the thrum, thrum, thrum of the portal.

Mistress Gillian.

The words were as clear as if someone was standing beside her, only no one was. Except for Morgan, who looked too power drunk at the moment to be capable of speech, especially in such measured tones. Gillian twisted away, only to have the woman grab her around the back and continue clawing at the staff.

Mistress Gillian.

“What?” she snapped, staring about. And almost taking a fall for it, as Morgan wrenched the staff hard to the left, got her foot between Gillian’s, and attempted to trip her up and throw her to the ground.

Gillian stomped on the woman’s toes again instead, and wrenched back, knocking her head into Morgan’s face and then spinning to try to force her into the great maw as it passed. But it was rotating so quickly now that she missed, and Morgan grabbed the end of staff, laughing and spinning them around and around as if not understanding the danger. Or no longer caring.

“How are you this strong?” Gillian yelled.

“I stole some of the demon’s power, when he wasn’t looking. Enough, perhaps, to do what you won’t!”

“Or to be ripped apart for your trouble! The staff was made for the fey, not for us. You said it yourself!”

“Yet you wield it. If you can, so can I!”

She let go abruptly enough to send Gillian staggering, then jumped on her back, pummeling her with her fists.

The voice came again. It is Mircea, and I am speaking to you mind to mind. Please do not be alarmed; it is an ability that comes with my kind, although I have it more than some. Nod if you understand.

Gillian nodded, although she didn’t understand anything. Except dropping to the ground on her back, stunning her unwelcome passenger, then rolling when Morgan let go and getting her fist in her face. She got up and staggered away, shaking her head and trying to clear it, while the mad woman scrambled back to her feet.

My companion and I are going to try to drain Mistress Morgan of enough blood to allow you to overcome her, Mircea said. But she is shielded, and the portal you have opened to keep the other witches at bay is difficult to focus through. But we will try.

Do not give up.

Gillian almost laughed at that, at how little he seemed to understand. She hadn’t summoned the portal to keep Morgan’s coven back, although that had been a useful side effect. It was supposed to be her tomb.

The vampire might not want to risk killing her, but Gillian had no such qualms. Yes, it would alter history in unknown ways, but Morgan was about to change it more! There was only one way this ended, and they were running out of time.

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