Page 91 of The Aether

Narissa positioned herself a few feet from the wall, and Damian placed his hands on her shoulders to amp up her abilities.

“Do you need to sing to draw out the Siren, or are you able to channel her without? I can conjure earplugs for both Jordan and I to fight the sound.”

His comment was not to insult her, but to protect both Jordan and himself from the highly seductive song that could lure them under her spell. If she unintentionally trapped them, Damian would waste precious minutes fighting free of her mesmerizing draw.

“No, sugar. I’ve been around long enough to figure it out. My mama taught me the right way.”

“Okay, go.”

Her tentacles emerged, tearing through her slim black pants, shredding the material in the process. But Narissa had been prepared for that too, and new material grew from the old, preserving her modesty. With the added limbs, she drew power from all the elementals surrounding her, Damian included. Once she was amped up, he backed away, prepared to storm through the opening she was about to create.

His first sight of the other side sent him into overdrive, and he plunged through the rest of the debris like a supercharged bulldozer. Bricks and chunks of cement flew around him, and those fast enough to duck saved themselves the pain of being struck. The sound of stone on metal clinked and pinged in the air.

After an initial head count, he realized Alastair was missing from the group, as was the sword needed to decapitate Morcant once and for all. The bastardwoulddie today. Damian would make sure of it.

“Let my daughter go, Thywyll, or I’ll inflict suffering on you in ways that make Genghis Khan look like a fucking kitten.”

With a knife inches from her throat, Morcant’s mouth stretched into a grotesque smile. “When I kill her, you’ll not be able to touch me.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Do it and try me.”

A flare of fear filled the other man’s eyes, and he glanced around wildly as if expecting backup.

“Is now the time to tell you the Authority isn’t coming to your aid?” Damian taunted, slowly skirting the half circle of his gathered team.

Tucking his hands into his slacks, he sauntered forward, appearing as casual as a tourist on a Sunday stroll through the park. He didn’t fool anyone. Neither did he care to. Containing himself was key. He’d yet to meet his daughter’s wide-eyed stare, fearing he’d lose control if he did.

“He can’t move, Papa,” Sabrina said calmly. “He’s frozen like everyone.”

Pausing, he turned back and noticed that although the Sentinels could move their eyes, that wasallthey could do. He frowned his confusion and faced his daughter. “Your doing, Beastie?”

She shifted her head slightly. “Theirs.”

Following the direction of her gesture, he saw Alastair, Castor, and Ronan bent over the figure of another person. The lines around Al’s mouth and eyes were tight as if he were struggling not to give into deeper emotions. With Morcant present, Damian’s guess was likely spot on.

“Why did they freeze everyone?”

“Because of the bombs,” Castor called back. “We couldn’t take the risk of another going off.”

“And why is this place not a pile of rubble?”

“Ask your kid.”

Damian looked closer. The strain of her stance was getting to her. Hands in the air, fingers spread wide, she appeared to be holding up the world. Finally, he understood.

“Beastie, I’m going to take the magical weight from you. When I say, you can relax, all right?”

“No, Papa. If I let go, the building will fall down.”

“Even if I take over?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Tell me what you propose we do, my dear.”

“Ronan and Uncle Alex need to let them go.”

He shot a look at the two men in question. Ronan shook his head and pointed to Morcant, who held the knife to Sabrina’s throat. If they restored time, the Arcane Devourer would kill Damian’s daughter. If they didn’t, they risked catastrophic consequences. Time should never be suspended for this long.

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