Page 43 of The Aether

Lifting a brow, he faced Sebastian. “At times. Where’s Mack?”

“Upstairs.”

“She had no inkling of tonight’s events, either?”

“None. And she’s disturbed by the fact.” Baz twirled a hand around. “I’m assuming we’re safe in this fortress of yours?”

“For tonight, according to Beastie. Who the hell knows about tomorrow.” Lifting his phone, he waved it toward the sideboard. “Pour us a dram while I make this call, won’t you?”

Trevor picked up on the second ring. “What’s going on, man?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

Damian sighed heavily as he accepted a glass of brandy from Sebastian. “An Arcane Devourer who refuses to stay dead.”

“I’m not even sure what that is.”

“Essentially an energy vampire who thrives off the chaos he creates. The bastard has nine lives, and it seems he’s set his sights on my daughter. His goal is to live forever.”

“Why the hell would he want to? Isn’t one lifetime enough?”

With a short laugh, Damian said, “I tried to tell him that living this long has its disadvantages.”

“So you want me to come there? Should I bring Simon?”

“Just you for now. Your brother can remain in the dark for a bit longer.” Setting down his glass, he strode to his ceremony room and waved a hand to open the door. Once inside, he retrieved a spell. “I’ve got an incantation for you to get through my wards. When it arrives, commit it to memory and burn the paper. You’ll have less than five minutes. Understood?”

“Yes.”

As soon as he hung up, Damian snapped his fingers and woke the writing tools on his mother’s old secretary. The pen scratched out the words needed to bypass his magical security system. Finally, it dropped to the polished wooden surface.

A wave of his hand dried the ink.

“Make a copy, then deliver yourself to Trevor Blane. The other is to be delivered to Alexander Castor,” he instructed the parchment. “If you aren’t destroyed within five minutes of receipt, self-destruct.”

Both sets of instructions rolled themselves tightly and disappeared in a light puff of black smoke.

“That’s Harry-Potter level, right there.”

In his distraction over Morcant and getting his new Sentinels here, Damian had momentarily forgotten Sebastian. Nodding, he said, “I suppose it is.”

“Does anyone really know what you’re capable of, Dethridge?”

“It’s doubtful.”

“How do you suppose Morcant found your estate?”

“Josie. He arrived not long after her.”

Dark brows to his hairline, Sebastian looked disconcerted. “They’re in league together?”

“No. A magical marker in her bloodstream allows him to track her. I thought we’d taken care of it after the last incident, but it appears it still works.” Expression grim, he shook his head. “Beastie said we need to let Josie bleed. I don’t know what the hell that means.”

“If she bleeds out, the tracker will too, correct?” Sebastian asked, looking thoughtful.

“In theory. Every drop of her blood would need to be removed. It could stop her heart.”

---