Page 122 of Inflamed By an Incubus

Until he spoke.

“Drystan is here.”

“Drystan,” Fenix murmured, a name he had never thought he would hear someone involved with the mages say, not without him prompting them. He looked over his shoulder at Hartt and the elf’s violet eyes shifted to meet his. “Did you see a male who looked like this?”

He flashed the portrait at Hartt and the male shook his head. “We found only servants and clones, and none of them looked like him. I was worried he got away, but the clones had dark blond hair. Not white like your mage.”

Fenix turned the picture towards Archer. “What about you? Slaughter anyone who looked like this?”

Gods, he hoped the male hadn’t.

Archer scowled at him. “No. I sensed the same energy as what is in your curse. I was following it and it led me here.”

Fenix didn’t like the sound of that.

His gaze leaped back to the kid. “Where is he?”

Something caught his attention and he glanced there, frowned as the shadows seemed to shift and blur behind Evelyn as she turned away from Archer to look at Fenix. He realised too late what was happening.

The shadows parted and Drystan seized hold of her arm.

His words echoed in the air as he disappeared with her.

“Right here, and now I am gone.”

Chapter 36

Rage burned up Fenix’s blood as Evelyn disappeared, fear sinking icy claws into his heart to squeeze the breath from his lungs. Archer’s wild, dark eyes fixed on the spot where she had been and his features twisted with the fury that Fenix could sense in him, anger that told him that he wasn’t the only one blaming himself for her abduction.

Fenix seized the servant by his coat and leaned over him, shook him hard as he growled, “Where would he have taken her?”

It had to be far away, because Fenix couldn’t sense them in the vicinity and he figured that if they had moved to another location within the stronghold, Archer would have been there in a flash.

Archer.

He looked at the male. “You tracked her to Rosalind’s house. Can you track her now?”

Before the warlock could answer, the scrawny lad trembling in Fenix’s grip muttered a word.

“England.”

Fenix’s gaze shot down to him as shock swept through him.

“England.” He stared at the male, reeling as one possible location hit him, and didn’t dare to hope he was right. He glanced at the others as he thought about the country house he had scouted and how many mages and servants he had sensed inside it, and then looked at Archer. They could do this. He shoved the servant away from him and straightened. “I think I know where Drystan took her. There was an estate. I went there to find him, but I sensed too many mages, far more than I could handle alone. Mages weren’t the only people there either.”

His focus edged towards Mackenzie and she stiffened as their eyes locked, revealing that Hartt hadn’t told her about the country house yet. Fire lit her irises, making them glow, and her expression hardened as she took a step towards him.

“Phoenixes. They have phoenixes there, don’t they?” She looked ready to seize hold of him and shake an answer out of him as he had with the servant, so he nodded. She pivoted to face Hartt, her voice gaining pitch. “We have to go there.”

“We will. But you need to be calm, Mackenzie. You have to keep your head.” Hartt reached for her, his handsome face soft and violet eyes laced with concern, and she wrenched her arms away from him before he could touch her to calm her.

The air around her shimmered and the temperature in the room rose.

“Now. We have to go there now,” she barked.

“I’m staying,” Archer said and Fenix glared at him, because he had been counting on having the warlock at his side during the fight. They needed him. The male swept his arm around, drawing Fenix’s gaze to the rows of bookshelves crammed with rolled parchments and ancient tomes. “There’s information here for the taking and I need to gather it before anyone else can get their hands on it. Archangel are on the verge of dispatching a team here.”

“It can wait.” Fenix turned on him, pressure building inside him as he considered saying what was in his head. The part of him that wanted to keep the warlock at a distance and continue hating him warred with the part that kept pointing out what a valuable asset the warlock was and that they needed him in this fight. In the end, that side won. “We can’t do this without you, Archer. I think you proved that here. We’re strong, but you… we need you.”

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