Page 60 of Legacy of Chaos

She could picture him in the shower, soaping up, scrubbing his chest as bubbles ran down his hard-cut abs and then lower to his—

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Oskar said, “but we’re getting close to the nano injector. Keep an eye on the monitor.”

Glad to have something more to do than fantasize about Stryke in the shower, she leaned forward in her seat, so close to Oskar she could smell his musky aftershave.

Stryke smelled better. Like dark chocolate and the smoky diablo peppers that grew in the blood-fed fields along the shores of Sheoul’s River Scaldera. Her mom had brought some home once, and Cyan had never forgotten the spicy tingle in her nose. Stryke’s scent caused a spicy tingleeverywhere. Not that she should be thinking about what he smelled like or where he made her tingle right now.

Returning her attention to the monitor, she watched the craft’s powerful light sweep along a massive drill casing. Oskarkept the craft steady, flipping switches, pressing buttons, and steering with practiced hands.

“You got to hear all about me and Stryke,” she said to him. “What’s your story?”

“Don’t got one,” he said, shooting her a sideways glance. “I’m human, but I work for anyone who pays me, and Stryke pays well.”

“I do,” Stryke interjected. “I’m willing to pay for quality. I want the best people in every field.”

“And you always get them, don’t you?” she said.

“No,” Stryke replied, surprising her. “Not always. Some people won’t work for a demon no matter the pay.”

“And what? Your sparkling wit and charm don’t win them over?”

He laughed. “That,” he said, “has never happened. I have neither sparkles nor charm.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered, and Oskar snickered. “There!” She pointed at the screen. “I see some glyphs.”

Oskar shifted a lever, and the pod came to a gently rocking standstill. “I got a temperature spike,” he said calmly into the microphone, clearly not speaking to her. “Are you reading—?”

“We’re reading it,” Stryke answered.

“A five-degree spike isn’t unusual,” Taran said. “But we’re seeing spikes of twenty degrees a half mile to the south.”

Cyan tuned out the chatter, trusting that Taran and Stryke knew what the data meant. Her job was to analyze the fractured spell and repair it.

She reached deep into the center of herself, into what her people with the gift called herquanimas, the part of the soul that could connect with the energy around it, including that from other dimensions. According to her people, everyone, including humans and animals, possessed aquanimas, but not everyone could access it. And yet, it was the access point for all magicaland supernatural abilities, an organ unseen but capable of great power. Like the heart, except that it circulated spiritual energy instead of blood.

Warmth pumped through her body as her mind grabbed the glyphs and replaced them with a new weave, one that would spread a protective web extending from the man-made components of the rig across the floor of the ocean. The web, if woven correctly through the nanotechnology, would act as a butterfly bandage across the widening fissure through which Sheoul’s realm was leaking.

One of the glyphs, frayed at the edges, got a quick patch job. But another, a broken link, was nothing but shreds. She replaced it, but she didn’t spend extra time smoothing the edges. The tech who had placed the weave before her had been good at his craft, every element of the spell precise and clear.

She was a little messier, preferring to get the rough draft done before going back to strengthen and polish it.

Power flowed through her hands and fingers as she used them to shape and form glyphs while trying to ignore the occasional bumps of ocean currents against the craft.

Then the submersible rocked hard, nearly knocking her against the wall. “Hey, do you mind—?”

“More heat blooms to the south.” Taran’s voice stuttered over the connection. “I think you guys should hurry.”

“This isn’t something that can be rushed,” she said irritably. She might be efficient under stress, but she was also grumpy as hell. “Your other guy might have been able to—”

The sub rocked hard, tossing her and Oskar around in their seats, held in only by the harnesses.

“Shit.” Oskar flipped switches and cranked levers as an alarm screeched.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she threw a glyph into the weave. Just a few more…

“Get out of there!” Stryke shouted, and her heart leaped into her throat. Stryke was not one to panic. “Hurry!Go!”

“Massive heat signature moving toward you,” Taran barked. “Oh, man, it’s big. Get up here. Get up here now!”

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